Refueled XLVII

The HOTv logo gives way and the camera cuts to the inside of the Best Arena, signaling the beginning of Refueled 47 and the go-home show for ICONIC.

Joe Hoffman: Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Refueled! I’m Joe Hoffman and I’m joined, as always, by “Big Buff” Benny Newell, and-

Benny Newell: AAAAAAND I’m six sheets to the wind, Hoffhole, workin’ on my seventh, DRINK!

Joe Hoffman: Par for the course for you, Benny. Let’s kick it over to Brian McVay for the introductions.

The shot cuts to Brian in the ring, mic at the ready.

Brian McVay: The following contest is a singles match, scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…

The lights dim. The arena quiets. A chill moves through the air… and “I am the COOL” by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins explodes over the speakers. 

~I’m the one your mama warned you about 

~When you see me, I will leave you no doubt 

~I’m the coolest man that ever walked this earth 

~I’ve been the coolest since the day of my birth 

~I AM THE COOL. 

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

Brian McVay: …from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 229 pounds…”COOL” CANCER JILES!

Joe Hoffman: We’re starting things off tonight with a bit of a grudge match. “COOL” Cancer Jiles taking on his former eGG Bandit cohort and mentee of-sorts, “The Watson Mill Kid” Zeb Martin.

Benny Newell: At least Jiles isn’t looking like a morose motherfucker anymore. Let me know when he starts hitting more than a thousand words in his promos again.

Joe Hoffman: What?

Benny Newell: DRINK!

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. The Watson Mill Kid steps out from behind the curtain and marches down the aisle, keeping his eyes locked on Jiles in the ring.

Brian McVay: And his opponent! From Comer, Georgia, weighing in at 235 pounds…”THE WATSON MILL KID” ZEB MARTIN!

Zeb climbs the apron and wipes his boots before ducking underneath the top rope. He doesn’t forget to give his corner audience a nod, but he is absolutely all business tonight. Brian McVay exits the ring and Matt Boettcher calls for the bell.

Joe Hoffman: Zeb’s shown a little more fire in recent weeks than we’ve normally seen from him. If you remember, Benny, the last time Jiles and Martin fought was five weeks ago at Refueled 42, with Zeb picking up the win in convincing fashion.

Benny Newell: Yeah, because the Postmaster General Jiles mailed it the fuck in. Maybe he’ll, I dunno, TRY this week.

The ex-Bandits move to the center of the ring, Jiles with a bit of a swagger, Martin with determined steps. The two former friends start jawing back and forth a bit when suddenly, Zeb pops Jiles square in the jaw, which elicits a roar from the crowd!

Joe Hoffman: And Zeb Martin fires the first shot!

Benny Newell: Well well well, looks like someone gave the lil’ country boy some piss and vinegar.

The Maestro staggers back a few steps but Zeb stays on him, firing off some bar room punches that drive Jiles back into the corner. Boettcher admonishes him for the closed fists so he switches to booting Jiles in the stomach. With Jiles reeling, Zeb grabs his arm, looking for an Irish whip, but instead he pulls him forward, wraps his arms around him, and launches him over his head with a big belly to back suplex! The Commander of COOL crashes to the canvas and Zeb immediately drops an elbow right to his chest, then goes for the cover!

ONE!

TW-Kickout!

Joe Hoffman: Nearly a two count there. Zeb’s gonna have to stay on him, but this approach is a smart one.

Benny Newell: About time the kid got some hair on his balls. We have our war hero, Steve Solex, to thank for helping make a man out of him. (Pause) I wish he was out here with us right now.

Joe Hoffman: (muttering) Not me.

Benny Newell: What the fuck was that, Joe?

Joe Hoffman: And back to the action we go!

Zeb’s up to his feet first and lays more boots to Jiles, then hauls him up to his feet. The crowd starts clapping, getting behind this newfound, aggressive side of the Comer native, but their cheers turn sour once Jiles wrests himself free from Zeb’s grasp and throws a thumb to his eye! Now it’s Boettcher’s turn to warn Jiles about an illegal move, but the Maestro ignores him while Zeb cries out and tries to regain his vision.

Jiles throws some stiff knife-edge chops that blister Zeb’s chest, then he hoists him up and connects with an inverted atomic drop! One clothesline later and now Zeb’s the one flat on his back. Jiles looks down at him, smiles, and scrapes his boot across Martin’s face, adding insult to injury before making a cover.

ONE!

Zeb throws a shoulder up IMMEDIATELY and Jiles elbows him in the face while some in the crowd boo the cheating.

Joe Hoffman: Well in the battle of these two fan favorites, it’s pretty clear who the majority is siding with tonight.

Benny Newell: Yeah, the quasi-pussy boy. Look, I don’t like either of them, and I hope the eGG Bandits stay dead, but Jiles is always gonna take a shortcut whether these people love him or not.

Both men are back to their feet and Jiles quickly rakes his hands down Zeb’s back, causing him to arch his back in pain. He bounces off the ropes, looking to connect with a running face buster, but Zeb side-steps the attempt and pushes Jiles back toward the opposite ropes. Jiles on the rebound and Zeb catches him with a thunderous spinebuster! The Blond Bandit not named Bobby Dean hits the mat hard and Zeb sprints to the ropes, looking for something big.

Joe Hoffman: Oh no, what’s he going for here?

Benny Newell: An early death? 

Zeb scales to the top turnbuckle, gets his balance and leaps, connecting with a single-leg kneedrop! Jiles reacts like he’s been shot and Zeb hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THREEENOOOOOOO!

The crowd groans as Jiles kicks out but Zeb’s feeling it now. He yanks the COOL one to his feet, crosses his arms into a straightjacket position and lifts him up high!

Joe Hoffman: He’s looking for the Hook, Line, and Sinker!

Benny Newell: Send me a postcard from the hospital, dumbfuck.

Jiles frantically starts kicking his legs above Zeb’s head, which puts the youngster off balance. He manages to get his feet back down to ground and wriggles free of Martin’s grasp, and once he stands up…

Joe Hoffman: OH! COOLYMPIAN YOLJK! A faceful of mist to Zeb Martin!

Matt Boettcher has to swivel out of the way to avoid getting hit, so he doesn’t see Jiles kick Zeb square in the balls. But he does turn around in time to see him roll Martin up in a schoolboy!

ONE!

Zeb’s frantically fighting!

TWO!

FEETONTHEROPES!

THREE!

The boos start in immediately as Jiles quickly high-tails it from the ring, forcing Boettcher to leave with him to raise his hand.

Brian McVay: Your winner of this match: COOL CANCER JILES!

Joe Hoffman: Cancer Jiles nearly falling victim to the Hook, Line, and Sinker, much like Doozer did, but manages to weasel his way to victory with the aid of the ring ropes.

Benny Newell: Hey, maybe Zeb can get his drink spiked again this week and forget this ever happened. Wouldn’t be so bad, right?

Joe Hoffman: I’m not going to dignify that with a response.

In the ring, Zeb gets to his feet and glares at Jiles, who has a big shit-eating grin on his face. The Maestro makes his way to the back and Refueled goes backstage.

We cut backstage where Blaire Moise is standing by with the Son of Scions, Sutler Reynolds-Kael. The son of Max Kael has a leather jacket beneath which he is wearing a Mike Best t-shirt while a drab smirk is dragged across his face. 

Blaire Moise: I’m here with Sutler Reynolds-Kael who was supposed to have a match here tonight but due to unfo-

A finger moves to Blaire’s face causing her to stop mid sentence as Sutler’s dark eyes stare into her own. Pulling the finger from her face Sutler gently grabs her wrist and moves the microphone toward his mouth.

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: Hi, I’m afraid I have to stop you Blaire Moise, I feel like you’re about to ask a bunch of questions that I don’t really feel like answering. I’m going to do us both a favor and cut right past the pillow talk if you don’t mind. 

He shifts turning his eyes toward the camera as his smirk remains affixed in place. 

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: A week ago I was booked out to face Doozer, one of the sycophants that likes to lap at my Grandpa’s heel. See my Grandfather, Lee Best, wanted to test me after he saw me DOMINATE that Marquis of the Mudshows, Darin Matthews. See it’s all well and good that I could beat some Indy Circuit 90 year veteran who still manage to be greenier Jatt Starr’s pap smear but this is High Octane Wrestling and I’m a third generation Championship stock. Lee wants more out of me.

The smirk disappears as Sutler shakes his head, a crooked smile taking up residence where the smirk had left. 

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: Then I get a message on Monday saying the match is cancelled, Blaire. Cancelled. Why? My opponent’s schedule had to change. Enjoy the week off. Gee, thanks, Grandpa, sounds wonderful. Blaire, winners don’t take weeks off, LOSERS take weeks off. Every week I don’t get a match, Blaire, is a week I’m not climbing the rankings, it’s a moment I’m not getting closer to the LSD Championship. Or the World Championship. I’m not getting one step closer to the Hall of Fame or to setting any records. I’m not happy about it, Blaire, but.. Hey, what can you do?

He looks over at Blaire, winking before there seems to be a flash of inspiration in his eye. He turns back toward the camera, his crooked smile stretched out into a full, pearl toothed grin.

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: Now my dead was a piece of shit, he said a lot of dumb stuff but occasional he said something that stuck with me. One of those things was that you should always pick your enemies before they pick you. So I’m putting the Roster on notice, you know, like every young hot shot does, right? ICONIC is coming up and I’m looking for a fight! Grand Dad, you pick someone for me to face.. Or I’ll find someone. 

Brushing his curly dark hair back a palpable aura of smugness rolls off the young man. He cast a glance at Blaire once again before brushing past her with a look of disgust.

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: I can’t believe I used to jerk off to you.

We are left with Blaire looking shocked and a little disgusted before cutting away.

The scene opens in what looks to be everyone’s worst fears. The dreaded mansion that we don’t mutter in this god forsaken world. It appears that we are at Hollywood’s mansion and obviously not backstage at Refueled. No one is really sure how this footage is being broadcast right now but nevertheless it is. Hollywood was always intuitive. Speaking of which, we finally see him as the camera cuts to his bedside and we see a pretty battered and bruised Hollywood. In fact, the man looks more defeated then the New York Jets right now and that was very telling. Hollywood sighs as we get a close up of his battered face. Hollywood is able to sit up in his bed and it didn’t look like anyone else was around. Hollywood looks directly at the camera. There was no smile on his face. There was no light in his eyes. He simply stared like a broken man for a few minutes. These moments felt like a lifetime as the awkwardness starts to set in for those that are watching, assumably. Hollywood then takes a breath before speaking. 

Brian Hollywood: I can’t begin to describe my last year here in the land of High Octane. It has certainly been a roller coaster of a year for me. But honestly what’s left for me to do?

Hollywood pauses as he lets that very question out to the rest of the world. The former highly regarded Executive looks defeated and looks like a man who’s ready to cash in the rest of his chips and call it a day. That very question almost sounded like the beginning of a retirement question as we all know how those go. Still…something was bugging this troubled man. 

Brian Hollywood: It seems that no matter what I do, no matter what I try and change, the end result is always the same. It’s like I’m haunted by something. A very pale ghost. A ghost..a shell of the msn I once was screaming at me. And up until recently, the screams were faint. That is until I’ve been surrounded by nothing around me the last week. Nothing but silence. Like a silent night. It’s those nights were all told to really heed. I chalked it up to paranormal bullshit. Something I just never bought into. 

Hollywood pauses once again. It was difficult for him to grasp what he was trying to say. It was like he was pondering this all week. He didn’t have anything else to do anyway. Lying away recovering from his recent injuries. Someone knew exactly where to injure him. But still…there was the question of what was eating away at him. 

Brian Hollywood: Like I was saying..I don’t buy into the nonsense. I don’t buy into any nonsense. But the screams got louder until I had no other choice but to listen to them. I didn’t like what I was hearing either. All this year has been for me has been a nightmare. A gigantic setback that no matter what I did the cog on the wheel led to the same place for me. I don’t like being a cog. But in the land of HOW that’s how it can feel sometimes. You’ve gotta know how to maneuver it and you’ve gotta know how to navigate through it. I once was able to do that. Freely with no problems. I never worried about the consequences because I was virtually untouchable. What happened to me? What happened to that marvelous miracle of the man I once was? I’m not talking about any Harrison miracle either. Definitely don’t buy into that bullshit. But I digress. Something was missing. No matter what I did. Something always stopped me. Whether it was Matthews or the Best Alliance I just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have the answers. Until now. 

Hollywood pauses again and this time he seemed more affirmative in his speaking as he spoke with more fluency and confidence. 

Brian Hollywood: No the honest answer was that those weren’t valid reasons. None of it was. The honest answer was that I was the one who had failed ME! The screaming couldn’t have been much louder than that! Basically myself was screaming back to me that I had failed myself! I had insulted everything that I once was! I was helpless. I was laying here as I heard the constant anger and belittlement of myself and there was nothing I could do. Forced to listen and it made me feel like shit. Knowing that I was once great..hearing this man shouting back to me that I was better than this. That I had started to find myself again and then that failed once I lost the tag titles. But then I had found it again after I beat Jiles only to get beat down and end up here. I get it now. I really do….and now there’s only one thing left for me to do….

And here it was as Hollywood hung his head. This was the moment of truth as Hollywood had seen it. Screamed at him in broad daylight and there was no question what he had to do next. Was this honestly the end? Was this the last chapter written in his illustrious career? Until then, Hollywood slowly lifts his head up as he all of a sudden rises from the bed..not as injured as we were previously led to believe. There was light in his eyes again…only this time…it was that long lost look that was now flaming through his eyes. The look of a man once previously believed to be gone. Hollywood shakes his head as he addresses one more thing. He stares deeply into the camera as it zooms in close to him. 

Brian Hollywood: The answer is that I received the message loud and fucking clear! And of course I’m talking to my unknown assailant who thought it would be wise to attack me from behind! The only thing I have to say is this….I got your message….and I’ll fucking see you at ICONIC!!

Hollywood pushes the camera away as he’s able to get up and clearly walk away on his own power as he drops that bombshell of a response to whoever it was that assaulted him as his future bid clearly established that he’s far from done in HOW as the scene slowly fades to black and we head to our first commercial break.

Back live and we cut back to the Hall of Fame announce team….

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s next match up will feature Darin Matthews taking on HOW’s newest signee, Hannibal Frost.

Benny Newell: Fuck Frost.

Joe Hoffman: Huh? You don’t even know the man.

Benny Newell: Hoffman, I know two things.

Joe Hoffman: And they are?

Benny Newell: One, I’m almost out of fucking Jack.

Benny says as he downs his drink.

Joe Hoffman: And the second?

Benny Newell: Second, you don’t demand to see GOD on your first fucking day. He better be glad GOD didn’t bottomline his ass. This Fisher Price fucks think they can do whatever they want when they come into the big leagues. Disrespectful!

An electric guitar tremolo picks it’s way through the PA system, before erupting into “Out of My Way” by Seether. Hannibal Frost pushes out from behind the curtain and steps to the top of the entrance ramp, gauging the crowd reaction. 

Joe Hoffman: HOW’s newest recruit looks ready for action and from the reaction from the fans they want to see what he can do.

Benny Newell: What he can do? I’ll tell you what he can do Hoffman, and that’s take the bottle of lube and shove those pamphlets he threw away that GOD provided him straight up his ass!

Bryan McVay: Introducing first, coming to the ring from Memphis, Tennessee, and weighing in at 220 pounds….he is….HANNIBAL! FROOOOOOOOOSSSST!

With a satisfied nod, he continues down the ramp, pointing a finger at one of the cameramen near the ring apron. The camera guy apprehensively steps forward, only for Frost to stuff a ten dollar bill in his cowboy hat and wedge it on the man’s head. With a reassuring pat and a thumbs up, Frost turns around and rolls into the ring and leans against the nearest turnbuckle while acknowledging random members of the crowd.

Joe Hoffman: Hannibal seems to be vibing well with the fans.

Benny Newell: Vibing? These idiots probably think he’s the guy from Silence of the Lambs. DRINK!

The lights dim as the opening chords to Aloe Blacc’s “The Man” queue up and blare over the arena speakers.  Suddenly, a spotlight shines down on both Meredith and Darin Matthews.  

Benny Newell: This fucking guy. Fucking drink!

Decked out in his 97Red Robe with Black Collar, Matthews takes a deep breath raising his arms in the air while Meredith makes his introduction:   

Meredith:  Introducing the man ailing from The Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri.  Tonight he weighs in at lean, mean 223 Pounds.   He is the man known as the Pinnacle of Pro Wrestling, The Artiste of Atlantic City, The Messiah of Missouri Valley, your Tyrant of the Territories and your future HOW World Champion:  DAAAAAAAAAAAARIN MAAAAAAAAAAAATHEWS!!!!   

Matthews spins around and throws his robe off.  Meredith collects his robe while Matthews charges towards the ring, handing out high fives along the way.  

Joe Hoffman: Zion looking to bounce back from his loss to Sutler Kael.

Benny Newell: The only thing that will be bouncing is Zion’s head against the fucking mat.

Matthews climbs up the top turnbuckle basking his glory, taken back by the loud cheers from the crowd tonight.  He smirks before he flips off the top turnbuckle.  He looks intently at his waiting opponent.

Joe Hoffman: Zion looking confident, maybe even cocky.

Benny Newell: I hope he broke his ankle on that landing.

Hortega makes his way over to Frost and begins to check HOW’s newest recruit before he makes his way over to Matthews and does the same and signals for the bell.

Ding. Ding.

Joe Hoffman: And here we go…..

Matthews and Frost come out of their respective corners and Frost shows a shine of sportsmanship by extending his hand and Matthews gladly accepts before the two circle one another.

Benny Newell: What the fuck did I just see?

Joe Hoffman: It’s called sportsmanship Benny.

Benny Newell: Never heard of it. I thought Frost was trying to tell Zion to put the lotion on the skin or he gets the hose again.

Joe Hoffman: Will you stop.

Benny Newell: Only if I can eat his liver with some fava beans and a nice bottle of Jack.

Benny does the tongue sound effect.

Joe Hoffman: Chianti.

Benny Newell: Candy?

Joe Hoffman: It’s Chianti.

Benny Newell: No, I’m pretty sure the coke I snorted off of that hooker was named Candy.

Hoffman groans as Darin and Hannibal lock up. The rookie and former ICON champion not giving an inch as once tries to out power the other.

Joe Hoffman: Frost showing incredible strength by keeping Darin stationary.

Frost musters enough strength to lean Matthews back a bit and sweeps the left leg of his opponent and reaches down to grab the ankle and Darin kicks him off.

Benny Newell: Zion on his back again. Typical.

 Frost kips up and makes his way back to the downed Matthews, but the former Tag champion trips Hannibal up and goes for a quick pin, but Frost kicks out before the count of one and the two men quickly get to their feet before staring each other down.

Joe Hoffman: Round of applause from this audience.

Benny Newell: Fuck a round of applause Hoffman. I want another round of drinks!

The two begin to circle once more and as Darin makes the first attempt to lock up, Frost ducks under and lights Darin’s chest up with a seething chop as soon as he turns around.

Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Frost follows it up with a right kick to Darin’s though and then a left kick to the other thigh. Frost drills Darin in the gut with a spin kick doubling over the former ICON champion allowing Frost to hit a snap suplex. Frost rolls on top of Matthews, but instead of going for a cover he rolls all the way to his legs and tries to put on the ankle lock once again.

Joe Hoffman: Frost trying for that ankle lock again. He wants Darin to tap out tonight.

Benny Newell: Won’t be difficult since Zion taps to everyone.

Matthews is able to break free by kicking off Frost once again, but the rookie is tenacious as he pops back up and heads towards Matthews who waits for him and kicks him in the knee dropping Hannibal to the mat. Darin pulls Frost to his feet and goes to whip him into the ropes.

Joe Hoffman: Reverse!

Frost reverses the Irish whip and as Darin bounces off of the ropes he ducks down looking for a back body drop.

Joe Hoffman: DDT!

Matthews has a counter of his own as he spikes Frost on his head before going for a cover.

Uno.

Dos.

NO!

Frost kicks out and Darin spin two his feet and waits for Frost to sit up before delivering a buzzsaw type kick to the side of his head.

Joe Hoffman: Frost’s eyes look like they have rolled to the back of his head.

Benny Newell: That’s how Candy’s face looked after I got done with her. DRINK!

Matthews goes for a cover.

Uno.

Dos.

Tre…..

NO!

Frost pops his shoulder up.

Joe Hoffman: Near fall there! Frost popped the shoulder up in time.

Benny Newell: The only things I pop Hoffman are bottles, wood, and cherries. DRINK!

Matthews gets to his feet and reaches down picking up Frost, but Hannibal drills Darin in the back of the head with a jumping enzuigiri causing the Tyrant of Territories to fall through the ropes and onto the floor.

Joe Hoffman: Matthews got hit with the Cold Truth, but I don’t think Frost meant for him to fall through the ropes.

Benny Newell: Then tell Frosty the Snowman there to defrost his ass from the canvas and throw Zion back into the ring.

Hannibal slowly starts to get to his feet as Hortega begins his ten count.

Uno.

Dos.

Tres.

Cuatro.

Matthews begins to stir on the outside.

Cinco.

Seis.

Darin gets to all fours.

Siete.

Ocho.

Darin is to his feet and leaning onto the edge of the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Darin better get back in or he’ll be counted out.

Nueve.

Die……

The count is broken up by Hannibal Frost as he jumps from the top turnbuckle looking for a diving clothesline as Darin rolls back into the ring.

Benny Newell: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Hortega begins his count once again as Darin shakes the cobwebs out.

Uno.

Dos.

Joe Hoffman: Frost had the match won, but he got overzealous.

Benny Newell: Overzealous? Let’s call it like it is Hoffman, he’s fucking stupid.

Tres.

Cuatro.

Matthews rolls out of the ring and picks up Frost and delivers a Russian Legsweep onto the edge of the ring.

Cinco.

Darin hops onto the apron and jumps and lands chest first onto Frost as the cold air escapes his lungs.

Seis.

Siete.

Darin begins to lift up Frost.

Ocho.

Darin rolls Frost back into the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Both men are back into the ring and Matthews looks ready to finish Frost off.

Darin hooks him for the Ratings Spike, but Frost pushes him off and hits a drop kick staggering Matthews across the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Some major force behind that dropkick.

Frost rushes at Darin looking to hit a jumping clothesline, but Matthews catches him and tosses him behind him and unbeknown to him, Frost lands on the middle turnbuckle. Frost leap frogs over the turned around Matthews looking for a facebuster, but Darin sniffs it out at the last second and is barely able to counter it into a Northern Lights Suplex.

Joe Hoffman: OH MY! WHAT A COUNTER!

Hortega sees Frost’s shoulder hit the mat and he slides into position.

Uno.

Dos.

Benny Newell: Kick out Frosty!

Tres!

Benny Newell: FUCK!

Matthews sits up and looks exhausted after a hard fought victory and slowly makes his way to his feet as Hortega raises his hand in victory.

Bryan McVay: And your winner by pinfall, DARIN! MATTTTHHHHEEEEWSSSSSS! 

Joe Hoffman: Matthews with a hard fought victory here tonight…..what’s this????

Darin makes his way over to Hannibal and extends a hand. Frost accepts the show of sportsmanship and Darin says some words of encouragement to him before raising the rookie’s hand to the HOW crowd.

Joe Hoffman: What a great show of respect by these two after a grueling match. Tough loss for the debuting Hannibal Frost, but he showed he has the skill to hang with a former ICON and Tag champion in HOW.

Benny Newell: He only has the skill because of the magician’s magic hat Hoffman. 

Matthews and Frost continue to stand in the ring as we cut to the backstage area.

The shot goes backstage.  The corny 50’s television theme music begins to play, and seated behind the #1 Dad’s desk is none other than Steve Solex.  However, this is the current Steve Solex.  The war-hero, Joe Bergman nemesis, equal rights loving Steve Solex.  Solex is shown with a gold letter opener in one hand and an envelope in the other.  The music fades as the scene zooms in.  Solex does not look amused, not one fucking bit.

Steve Solex: This pussy ass gold letter opener.

He looks down at the opener in disgust, and chucks it behind him.  It sticks dead in the wooden wall behind him.

Steve Solex:  This is much better.

He wields an Army issued bayonet and quickly slices the top of the envelope, and pulls the letter out.

Steve Solex:  Well, shitbags.  Welcome to a new episode of Leave it to Stever!  It’s been quite a while since I’ve sat here behind this desk. The fuckin’ #1 Dad headquarters.  Let’s go ahead and take a question!

Insert the fake audience applause; the sound of which causes Solex to wince.  Solex’s tone is more annoyed than the corny tone he used to take on this segment.

Steve Solex:  Our first question comes from…well, shit.  Joe from Nowheresville, Fuckstown, U-S-MOTHERFUCKI-A!  Joe asks, “Steve.  I’m scared.  I’m frightened.  I’m terrified.  I’m literally shaking in my boots!”  Oh, this is just good shit.  I know this is Bergman, I just fuckin’ know it.  “I just have one question, Steve.  Blah, blah, fuckin’ blah.”

Solex tosses the letter behind him.

Steve Solex:  Look, Joe.  I know it’s you, ya’ dipshit.  And I don’t need a fuckin’ 97Red Alert to prove it. I know you expect to walk out of ICONIC as the winner, but I have to tell ya, Joe.  That’s just not gonna be the case.  You can sick your ball kickin niece, daughter or whatever the fuck Barbie is, after me and attack me while I’m down and out…from a Zeb Martin dick kick, that he will undoubtedly pay for later on down the line. And you can crush nine-thousand cans of PBR with your hand like your Danny fuckin’ Hodge squishing apples with his bare hands to try and send some weird intimidation tactic my way…but I know the truth Joe.  You’re fuckin’ scared.  It’s always been that way.  You saw the greatness that I was, and you were scared out of your motherfuckin’ shoes.  You saw the man behind the Dad, and that man scared the ever living shit out of you.  I can’t say that I blame ya’, Bergman.  I mean, I am one bad mother fucker after all.

The crowd boos.

Steve Solex:  I claimed your territory Joe, just like the bigger dog always does.  I took your bullshit Section 214 and I made that shit popular.  The fans fuckin’ loved it Joe, and you just couldn’t handle that a military rebranding of your “people” was more popular and loved than anything you’ve done in HOW.  Being associated with me Bergman…that’s your legacy, Joe.  But it’s not what you’ll be remembered for.  You’ll be remembered for the time that Steve Solex mopped the fuckin’ floor with you at ICONIC 2020.  Bet on that shit, Joe.

The scene fades as the crowd boos wildly.

We cut to the ring where a red carpet has been placed across the canvas floor. There are two chairs sitting in front of a television and a PS5 is hooked up to it, which is additionally hooked up to the big screen, as cords run up the rampway.

Benny Newell: What the fuck is going on here? Get this shit out of the ring!

Joe Hoffman: I don’t know what this is but I’m sure Conor Fuse has something to do with- wait, I’m being told we are going backstage right now to find The Vintage!

Benny Newell: Great, just great…

The scene switches to Blaire Moise, racing towards Conor with a cameraman. The Vintage is walking down the hall, sporting green Adidas track pants and a green hoodie. The hoodie is up, covering his face although Moise can tell from the body language it’s clearly The Gamer.

Blaire Moise: Conor, Conor… what’s going on? What do you have planned at ringside?

Fuse turns around. His face is covered but he greets the interviewer warmly.

Conor Fuse: Hi Blaire. Planned? I have something planned?

Blaire Moise: There’s a video game setup inside the ring. You had nothing to do with this?

Conor Fuse: I don’t know what-

OOOOOOHHHHHH, Beg Motherfucker, Beg!

The scene cuts to inside the arena, where we see The Hardcore Artist flaked by Frankie the Cameraman and his two new hockey buds dressed in their #6 red hockey jerseys making their way onto the stage. Scotty has a mic while they walk down.

Scottywood: I’d like to play a game, Conor…

Boos reign in from the HOW faithful as The COO ignores them. He continues towards the decked out ring.

Scottywood: This is the go home before ICONIC, the biggest night of the year in HOW and I thought we’d have a little fun before I slaughter you in this very ring. A friendly wager of your video gaming skills for the right to pick the stipulation of our match.

Benny Newell: This is a genius idea!

Joe Hoffman: Two minutes ago you shit all over this thing but now that you find out it’s SCOTTY’s idea for the PS5, you’re cool with it?

Benny Newell: I wasn’t shitting on anything. This is amazing!

Joe Hoffman: [Heavy sigh] Why do I bother.

The cameras switch to Fuse and Moise.

Conor Fuse: Whatever. This is ridiculous… even I know it’s no time to play video games. I’m going to kick this prick’s ass once and for all!

Fuse nods to the interviewer and makes his way towards Gorilla. The fans give a cheer as the camera follows Conor all the way out.

Joe Hoffman: I have never seen Fuse so angry before!

Benny Newell: Well, Scotty keeps on beating the dude to a bloody pulp!

Joe Hoffman: That’s not exactly true. Conor got him a few weeks ago.

There is no theme or entrance video to play The Green One’s arrival. Instead, Conor marches down the ramp in a huff, trying to hold it together.

Scottywood: Easy… don’t blow a FUSE there! You lay one finger on me during this game and I tear this contract right up!

Scotty’s two goons step in front of The Hardcore Artist as Conor enters the ring. Although Fuse’s face is still very much in the shadows of his hoodie, you can tell he’s pissed off.

Joe Hoffman: I don’t know how I would restrain myself!

Scottywood immediately flips his opponent a controller.

But Fuse isn’t buying it.

Joe Hoffman: I wouldn’t touch him, Conor. Unfortunately, that man DOES have the ability to rip up the contract! The contract HE came to YOU with in the form of a hockey puck. None of this makes any sense!

Benny Newell: Mind games, you idiot.

Scotty simply directs Conor to the LCD television screen with a smirk on his face. The PlayStation loads the latest version of NHL ‘20 which also loads on the big screen for the fans to witness. The Hardcore Artist has chosen his team, the New York Rangers. Conor… is not paying attention to the game.

Scottywood: [Off mic] You’re going to play. You’re going to play or you don’t get the match.

Fuming under the hoodie, Conor turns to the television and chooses the New Jersey Devils.

The game begins…

And yet, through the gameplay, Conor can’t help but spend more time looking at Scottywood.

Joe Hoffman: Focus, Conor. Focus on the match!

Benny Newell: What match!? The video game!? This OCD punk-ass kid can’t do two things at onc-

Benny’s already eating his own words. Fuse scores a goal 30 seconds into the game. Scottywood looks at The Vintage like he got lucky.

Until Conor scores another goal, this time ten seconds after the puck drop.

Scottywood: Whatever. Wait until Artemi Panarin gets going.

Joe Hoffman: Who?

Benny Newell: Probably some shitbag- oh, wait, was that guy on Scotty’s team…!?

It doesn’t matter. Conor scores a third goal… this one coming with him barely looking at the contest. The fans are loving it on the big screen, realizing Conor’s skills are elite. Scottywood might be a good player too but no one can tell when compared to The Vintage. Fuse skates circles around Scotty’s NY Rangers and for those who would be paying extra close attention, Conor has the Devils fourth line out there…

It’s still difficult to see The Gamer under the hoodie but, as he stares down his ICONIC opponent and looks back at the screen one final time…

Joe Hoffman: GGGOOOOOAAAL! What a spin-o-rama by Conor Fuse!

Benny Newell: Shut the FUCK up, Joe! Since when do YOU know hockey!?

CRACK!

Scotty’s had enough. He puts his foot right into the TV!

Benny Newell: YES! To hell with this shit! This was a terrible idea to begin with. ALL CONOR’S IDEA!!

Joe Hoffman: Scottywood has snapped! He’s destroyed the entire set!

Benny Newell: CONOR HAD CHEAT CODES!

Joe Hoffman: How did he have cheat codes!? The Vintage was barely focussing on the game and destroyed Scotty 4-0 in less than 2 minutes.

Fuse watches as Scottywood continues to kick at the television. Scott snatches the PlayStation, throws it onto the ground and then takes his barbed wire hockey stick…

Whack, whack, whack.

Benny Newell: I bet you this is giving Conor PTSD!

Joe Hoffman: Enough already!

However, as the camera zooms in on Fuse, he leans idly in the corner of the ring, watching this take place. Then he asks for a microphone and in a huff, walks directly towards the HOW Hall of Famer. Conor demands Scotty’s attention and gets it.

Conor Fuse: So you said I can’t lay a hand on you while we played, right?

Scotty smiles and gives no reply as he extends his arms to the side, egging Fuse on as his two goons stand behind him. The COO just stares back into Fuse’s hoodie, coldly.

Conor Fuse: Well, it’s game over… and I won.

Fuse pushes his hoodie back to reveal he has TWO black eyes, likely from the beating at the hands of Scottywood last week!

Joe Hoffman: Jeez…

Fuse’s expression grows intense.

Conor Fuse: You see what you did to me? Again, buddy, I don’t know what your problem has been with me but you picked the WRONG fight. ICONIC. “The Vintage” Conor Fuse against High Octane LEGEND Scottywood. I feel like this NHL battle was meaningless, Scotty… because you and I were always going to pick the same stipulation.

Fuse takes a deep breath and then screams into his upcoming opponent.

Conor Fuse: A HARDCORE MATCH. Switch the ring ropes to barbed wire for all I care! I want whatever YOU want. Make it all happen! I beat you in my game… AND to add INSULT to INJURY, now I’m gonna beat you at yours!

Joe Hoffman: A hardcore match!?

Benny Newell: A HARDCORE MATCH WITH BARBED WIRE ROPES!! IT’S OFFICIAL, CONOR’S LOST HIS FUCKING MIND!

Breathing heavily, not backing down from the Hall of Famer, Conor looks at Scottywood’s hockey stick.

Conor Fuse: Hit me.

Scotty has a look on his face, wondering if there’s an ulterior motive. Conor ensures him, there isn’t.

Conor Fuse: Hit me.

Scotty grips the hockey stick, readying for a shot.

Conor Fuse: I SAID HIT ME YOU STUPID, 8-BIT, OVER-THE-HILL JACKA-

Joe Hoffman: Scotty goes to whack Conor… BUT CONOR DUCKS! Fuse flies off the ropes and levels Scotty with a flying forearm shot!

The crowd erupts as Conor picks up the barbed wire hockey stick and drops both of Scotty’s goons with hard shots as they roll out of the ring. Fuse then lifts The Hardcore Artist up and plants him in the center of the ring and RIGHT ON THE BROKEN TV with the tilt-a-whirl DDT, PWN’ed.

Joe Hoffman: What’s he doing now!?

The Vintage slips out of the ring, grabs a chair and immediately jumps onto the apron and then onto the top rope…

Benny Newell: LOOK OUT SCOTTY-

SMACK!

Joe Hoffman: Conor with a frog splash, putting the chair BETWEEN both him and Scotty!

Fuse is rolling around on the canvas, gasping for air as Scottywood is out, blood trickling from his forehead, likely from the DDT on the broken LCD television! Conor glances over to the side of the ring, the one area that hasn’t been touched yet where the apparent ICONIC contract sits. Fuse crawls over to the contract, struggling to move. With some of Scotty’s blood on his own chest, he takes that blood…

And signs his name on it with his left index finger.

Benny Newell: Is that even legal!?

Joe Hoffman: I thought you said Conor was an idiot for demanding a hardcore match! What does it matter to you if the contract is legally signed or not?

Benny Newell: Yeah… um, FUSE IS AN IDIOT!

The Vintage rests against the turnbuckle as EMTs make their way down to check on both men.

Joe Hoffman: This is madness! We are in for a WAR at ICONIC! Conor wants to make a name for himself and Scottywood plans to finish The Gamer for good! We’ll be back after this!

The show cuts to a commercial break..

World Championship Match
Dan Ryan ©vs. Michael Lee Best©

LSD Championship Match
Steve Harrison vs. Hughie Freeman vs. Jatt Starr vs. Lindsay Troy©

Singles Match
Steve Solex vs. Joe Bergmen

Hardcore Match
Conor Fuse vs. Scottywood

Singles Match
High Flyer vs. John Sektor

Back live, and backstage, the legendary coke-fiend HOW reporter Brian Bare can be seen holding his ear piece as he stands next to John Sektor. Sektor is clad in his wrestling attire, one half of the World Tag Team championships gripped over his shoulder as he rolls his shoulders and sniffs the air. Brian glances at Sektor and gives a nod as he gets word from the production truck. 

Brian Bare: Folks as you can see I’m backstage with one half of the Tag Team champions, The Gold Standard, John…Sektor. John, soon you will be competing in the main event against the undefeated, Steve Harrison. Firstly, I gotta ask, even as a Hall of Famer and veteran of this sport, you must be feeling some kind of pressure heading into this match, knowing that you are competing against a man who has yet to be beaten? 

Sektor smirks and shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders calmly.

Sektor: Nope. No pressure. Why would I feel any pressure? I have nothing to lose. I damn sure don’t have anything to prove. Harrison, on the other hand, has everything to lose. And he still has plenty to prove. All the great wrestlers have big runs of success at some time or another. Eventually, it comes to an end and it’s a real kick in the dick when it does. You get so used to winning that when you finally lose? You don’t know how to cope or process it. You go from feeling immortal, to very, very human. 

Sektor remains calm and matter-of-fact. 

Sektor: I’m sure most people are expecting me to lose tonight. The smart money would be on Harrison, right? Right, Bare?

Bare looks uneasy and unsure how to respond, but Sektor’s Cuban eyes are burning into his skill and soon force him to answer. 

Brian Bare: Well, yeah, I guess..

Sektor: Wrong!

Sektor curls his lip with disgust.

Sektor: The fucks the matter with you? You’d honestly bet against John Sektor? You’d bet against the man who ended Professor Keller’s unbeaten run? The only man to tarnish our World champions win/loss record since we turned the lights back on? You’d bet against the Machine, that ripped through this company for years as World and Icon champion, headlining pay-per view after pay per view and finding a way to win each and every fucking TIME? 

Brian Bare: Well, when you put it like that..

Sektor: See, I think everyone has been swept away by the numbers that Harrison has produced. Sure, he looks incredible. Fine, he hasn’t lost. But who has he beaten? More importantly, who hasn’t he faced? He sure as fuck has never wrestled the most gifted technical wrestler of all time. The Ring General. The Standard Bearer. Simply put, he has never wrestled anyone with the qualities that I possess, but tonight he will. 

He let’s that final statement digest for a second as he straightens his back and smiles.

Sektor: Tonight, we get to find out just how good the so-called Miracle Man really is. If he wins? Then he deserves all the hype. But mark my words, I am going for the throat tonight. I may have had only five minutes to prepare but I’m turning it up a notch tonight and I am going to give Harrison the match of his life. When it’s all over, win or lose my sights will be fixed on Iconic. 

Sektor turns his head and glares into the lens of the camera.

Sektor: Jack Harman. High Flyer? You represent a part of wrestling that I have always detested. You are nothing more than a cheap circus act who has made a career for himself by being no more than a glorified stunt-man. The World of wrestling has heralded you as a legend but I think you’re one of the biggest insults to this industry, like, EVER. A fucking joke. Not even a funny one. The ones that leave you sighing and wishing you’d never heard it because you end up depressed by just how anti-entertaining it is. 

Bare grimaces. 

Sektor: When Lee told me I was facing you at Iconic? I laughed. I thought he was joking. A good old Lee Best ribbing for his pal John Sektor. ‘No, seriously Lee, quit joking around, who you really got for me?’ Turns out it wasn’t a joke. I actually have to share a ring with you, and whilst it still sickens me to my stomach, the prospect has come to grow on me. Because now we have a clash of styles, and I have the opportunity to prove to the World that technical wrestling will always reign supreme over cheap pops and comic book violence. I will win. You will lose and I hope that you do the right thing and finally fucking retire because I’m sick of you stinking up our company. You’re trash, kid. And in case you forgot, I’m in the waste management business.

Brian Bare: Wow, John..

Sektor: Shut the FUCK UP, Brian!

Sektor grits his teeth and points a warning finger at the tip of Brian’s nose. He begins to whisper, in a gruff and intimidating throaty voice.

Sektor: You bet against me, remember?

He leans in a little closer, so that Brian can practically smell what he had for lunch.

Sektor: One more word, and I will crack your skull on live television so that your family has to watch you bleed from your ears. 

The color drains from the reporter’s face as Sektor slowly lowers his finger and looks back at the camera.

Sektor: I’m done fucking around boys and girls. 

With that, Sektor gives Brian one last glare which causes him to look away and cower. Finally he marches out of sight as the scene cuts back to ringside.

The scene switches to the Hall of Fame announce team at ringside, ready to call the main event match of the evening.

Joe Hoffman: John Sektor, prepared as always, not only for his match tonight against the undefeated “Miracle Man” Steve Harrison, but for the legendary Jack Harmen at ICONIC.

Benny Newell: Pfft, “legend.” Legend where? Not here, where it matters. Here he’s been all flash and no substance, and even the “flash” is questionable. John Sektor’s the legend, Hoffhole, and he’s gonna dispose of Harmen, AND Harrison, just like he did Eric Dane.

Joe Hoffman: I wasn’t questioning John Sektor’s credentials at all, Benny. As for tonight’s match, and the ICONIC one, well, we’ll just have to wait and see.

Benny Newell: Already made my ICONIC bets with my bookie, DRINK!

Suddenly, the ominous, opening chords to “Put ‘Em in the Grave” by Jedi Mind Tricks blasts through the speakers. The High Octane Faithful were expecting either “Dirty Deeds” or “Take the Money and Run” to cue up, so this is a welcome surprise. They rise to their feet with a raucous ovation as the new LSD Champion, Lindsay Troy, walks out from the back, that shiny belt around her waist.

Joe Hoffman: Well it looks like the main event is going to be put on hold for just a few minutes, as our new LSD Champion is in the house!

Benny Newell: UGHHHH we were almost there, we ALMOST got through the whole show without having to fucking see or hear from this old broad.

Joe Hoffman: Benny, really, show some respect…

Benny Newell: Oh, like I fucking care, DRINK!

Benny starts double-timing the shots as Troy stops on the ramp, unhooks the title, and holds it up amidst the pyro blasts! She then slings the title over her shoulder, walks down the ramp and enters the ring, where Brian McVay graciously hands over his microphone.

Lindsay walks to center as her music dies down. The fans, however, don’t settle so quickly. LT takes a moment to soak in their appreciation before lifting the mic up.

Lindsay Troy: Thank you. 

She tries to smirk; it’s much more of a smile, though.

Lindsay Troy: This has been-

“I Want It All” by Queen immediately starts playing, because if you thought you were going to get A Nice Thing, rest assured: the Best Alliance is surely going to ruin it. Instantly, the fans start booing and Troy rolls her eyes at the interruption, her moment as a new champion ruined.

Benny Newell: AAAHAHAHAHAHA, this is PERFECT! Who wants to hear from creaky ol’ LT? GIVE ME JATT DIRECTLY INTO MY VEINS.

Joe Hoffman: This is absolutely disrespectful, but why am I not surprised?

The Sovereign of Starrgentina doesn’t appear on the stage, however. Instead, the HOTv lights up and there he is, backstage, in all his HD glory. The HOW Tag Team Championship rests on his left shoulder, partially covering his royal blue t-shirt with “StarrSek Industries” in yellow lettering.

Jatt Starr: Well, well, well! It looks like the HOW gods were smiling on you last week! Mikey Best’s little trollop got herself the LSD Championship. 

The Starrabian Knight gives Lindsay Troy some sarcastic applause.

Jatt Starr: I could congratulate you, but I won’t. Of course, I have to wonder at how our one-on-one match suddenly became a “menagerie a four.” Did you feel that threatened by the Ruler of Jattlantis that you offered to tongue the prunes of your paramour’s daddy? Or were you willing to open the back door for Mikey?  

The smile that the Queen was wearing earlier now transforms into a smirk.

Lindsay Troy: Now now, Jatt, BEST not to question the “infinite wisdom” of HOW’s Uncle Junior. And why are you so pressed about my sex life? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re a little jealous.

Benny Newell: What the fuck is she talking about? Jatt Starr has never been jealous of anyone or anything in his entire life. HE RULES AN ENTIRE NATION, FOR LEE’S SAKE.

Joe Hoffman: Benny, you know as well as I do that Jattlantis is not a real place.

Benny Newell: It absolutely is, just because it’s his creepy apocalypse bunker doesn’t mean it’s NOT REAL. 

Jatt sneers at the remark, then immediately waves it off.

Jatt Starr: Whatever, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. Instead of just ending you, I have to now contend with The Miracle Whip and the Irish Dingleberry. And since the announcement, the HOW Classic has now been named the UNDERDOG in the match! I should be the flipping favorite! And I have made a list of items on why.

The Sovereign of Starrgentina reaches down and puts on reading glasses before picking up a large stack of papers. He begins reading.

Jatt Starr: Number one—-

“Take the Money and Run,” by the Steve Miller Band starts up and Steve Harrison walks out from the back with a mic in his hand. The music going off cuts off Jatt Starr’s mic so nothing can be heard any longer from him, but he is still on screen going on and on.

Joe Hoffman: And now, it seems, we have three. 

Benny Newell: You wanted to talk about disrespect, Joe? THIS is disrespect! What is the first reason?! Now I’ll never know!

Steve pauses to take in the loud boos and jeers coming from the crowd, soaking it in like it’s nourishment to his soul. He takes a few more steps and stops to look at Lindsay Troy, who’s becoming more and more annoyed by these interruptions. He waves at her with a grin on his face. 

Lindsay Troy: Whatever bullshit you’re about to sell me, con man, I’m not buyin’.

Harrison chuckles and taps the mic to make sure it is working.

Steve Harrison: Lindsay Troy everyone. Don’t worry I dont have any age defying cream to sell you tonight.

Steve begins sarcastically clapping like Jatt did just minutes ago, but the crowd begins chanting for LT and clapping for her. On the HOV, Jatt Starr flips a page and continues talking to the camera.

Benny Newell: Now Jatt’s onto page two!? Someone fix the goddamn audio.

Steve Harrison: These stupid trolls…never letting The Man of Miracles finish a sentence. I was going to say…

The crowd starts heckling Steve again with loud ‘you suck’ and ‘LT is going to kill you,’ chants. 

Steve Harrison: I WAS GOING TO SAY…I am going to give you some credit, mom. You have been in multiple battles recently and have now won MY LSD Title. I am slightly impressed that you continue to fight through all the injuries and one-night stands to now carry a title.

Lindsay Troy: Yes yes, blah blah, I’m a big whore. Did you and Stay-Puft up there get together before the show and compare notes? This is all very monotonous and sad.

Steve Harrison: I have always been one for the classics, if the shoe fits wear it, right? I am not here to entertain you, are you bored? Do you need a nap? I hear people at your age need a few naps a day to function.

Lindsay Troy: Oh I know you’re not here to entertain me, Steve, because you’re not very entertaining at all. In fact, I think the only thing I’m going to find entertaining the rest of the night is watching Sektor turn you into a bloody stain on the mat.

The crowd cheers at that prospect. Steve shakes his head angrily at Troy’s comment and frowns, feeling disrespected by her. The cheers then die away, turning to loud murmurs, like something is going on in the stands.

Steve Harrison: Ah, just do it, I cannot stand this shit any longer.

A confused expression crosses the LSD Champ’s face when suddenly William Morris, Steve Harrison’s bodyguard, jumps the guardrail from behind Troy. He grabs her legs and drags her under the rope and tosses her head first into the ring post. 

Benny Newell: BOOM, OFF THE UPRIGHTS!

Joe Hoffman: We saw Steve Harrison’s mountain of a bodyguard last week, and now he’s out here making his presence felt by brazenly attacking the LSD champion! 

Benny Newell: Yes, and I love it, Joe, DRINK!

Troy bounces off the steel post and Morris grabs her by the throat and choke slams her onto the side of the ring. Harrison starts laughing as he begins walking down to the ring. Morris rolls Troy underneath the bottom rope and stares down at her. Steve gets to the ring and starts slowly climbing the ring steps and puts the mic to his mouth.

Steve Harrison: I want you to pummel her in the stomach, Will. I want that injury that Dan Ryan gave her to be worse.

Morris nods and begins beating Troy in the stomach over and over again. The LSD Champ tries to fend him off, but since she just had her bell rung she isn’t able to put up much of a fight. Steve finally enters the ring and looks back to see that Jatt Starr is still on the big screen going over his list of reasons on why he is the favorite.   

Steve Harrison: Has that fat fuck been talking this whole time?

William looks up from the beating and shrugs. He gives one last elbow to Lindsay’s stomach and stands up. He kicks her towards the ropes and Steve walks over to him and pats him on the back.

Steve Harrison: Good work, pal, Miracle Enterprise compliments you on your skills.

The Suplex Saint walks over to LT, grins down at her and shoves her outside the ring. He picks up the LSD Title and stares at it, then lifts it to the air as the crowd boos him loudly. Harrison tosses the title outside the ring at Troy, who is slowly getting to her feet. Before she can even think about making a move back to the ring to get at Harrison, four EPU guards storm down the ramp. Two grab her by the arms, one grabs the LSD title, and the other stands between her and the ring. Troy looks PISSED as she’s manhandled out of the ringside area, but still manages to flip Harrison the bird on her way out.

Steve Harrison: I am happy that unpleasantness is done. Look, I have learned this is how you get ahead in HOW. I am just doing what NEEDS to be done and everyone knows that The Miracle Man is the uncrowned LSD Champion. If I can get some sort of advantage by injuring Lindsay then I will take it and can someone please tell Jatt that we cannot hear him. At this point he is just listing off his favorite meals at Cracker Barrel.  

Harrison turns his back from Jatt and starts laughing to himself.  

Steve Harrison: Tonight I don’t get to WIN that title though. Tonight is all about John Sektor and I proving to each other who is better. I will make you eat your words of disrespect towards me, John. Hit his fucking music and get him out here, I am raring to go tonight and when it is all over he will be begging me to join his Social Security Stable.  

Harrison tosses the mic to the floor and William Morris leaves the ring and sits down in a nearby chair to watch the match and hopefully keep any interference from The Best Alliance away.

Sektor makes his way out, eyes locked on Harrison in the middle of the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Should be a good one here!

Sektor rolls into the ring, looks at The Miracle Man and the referee, Matt Boetcher calls for the bell.

DING DING DING

Joe Hoffman: Two technicians at the top of their game, squaring off…

Harrison and Sektor lock into a grapple. Both are evenly matched despite Sektor being a few inches shorter than (one of) the #1 contenders to the LSD Championship. Eventually, Harrison works Sektor into a headlock but the Hall of Famer pushes off and sends Harrison into the ropes.

The only problem being… Harrison keeps the hold and bounces into the ropes with Sektor. Back to the middle of the ring they go, still with The Miracle holding onto John Sektor’s head. There seems to be no escape as the man from The Best Alliance tries to break free but can’t do it.

Joe Hoffman: Is Harrison schooling Sektor here? He’s got that hold applied as well as I’ve ever seen!

Benny Newell: Both men are gearing up to beat the piss out of their opponents at Iconic, Joe. Harrison has his game right now, Sektor will pick his up.

As Newell makes that comment Sektor takes hold of Harrison’s waist and lifts him in the air. John backdrops The Miracle Man as they fall to the mat… and yet, as they rise…

Joe Hoffman: Harrison STILL has the headlock wrenched in!

Harrison hammers Sektor’s head with his free fist. It’s back to square one for the veteran as he’s stuck in the headlock. One half of the tag team champions tries to push off but can’t do it. He tries to lift Harrison once more… but Harrison keeps his weight low to the ground upon sensing the backdrop was coming this time. Finally…

Joe Hoffman: Sektor breaks free, bounces into the ropes… HARD KNEE to the stomach by Harrison!

In a hurry, Harrison lifts Sektor and connects with a snapmare suplex! Then a belly-to-belly suplex! Then a belly-to-belly OVERHEAD suplex!

Joe Hoffman: Usually it’s Sektor with the suplexes but right now, it’s all Harrison!

Sektor, however, shows his resilience and gets to his feet. He eats a forearm shot, another forearm shot… and a third for good measure. Harrison Irish whips Sektor into the ropes, lowers his head…

Joe Hoffman: And that’s the first mistake by The Miracle Man! Sektor falls to the mat and drills Harrison across the face with a forearm shot! Here come the suplexes by Sektor!

Double underhook suplex. Running release overhead suplex. And then, to one-up his opponent, an overhead belly-to-belly suplex that may have gained more distance than Harrison’s!

Joe Hoffman: Sektor’s right back at it. He peels Harrison off the canvas looking for some kind of arm bar… and it’s reversed into a deadlift by Harrison and a German suplex into a pin!

ONE.

TWO.

KICKOUT.

Benny Newell: A move like that would probably put Hughie Freeman down, definitely old woman Troy! But Sektor? You have another thing coming!

It seems like Harrison knew he wouldn’t get the pin, either. Steve’s right back on his feet the moment the kickout takes place and drops an elbow into Sektor’s chest. The Miracle drags Sektor to his knees and then rifles a hard kick across his chest… once, twice, three times. Harrison bounces off the ropes…

Joe Hoffman: Into a sitdown spinebuster slam by Sektor! And NOW Sektor applies the arm bar!!

Wrenching back on the arm of Harrison, the LSD contender cries out as he looks towards the ropes but realizes he’s too far away. However, since it’s in the early stages of the submission, Harrison thinks he might have a chance to use Sektor’s momentum to his advantage. As the tag team champion is pulling back as hard as he can, Harrison rolls to the side of the arm bar and tries to hook Sektor’s legs.

ONE.

TWO.

KICKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: OH Harrison ALMOST had him!

Sektor falls to the corner while Harrison takes hold of his right arm. Trying to shake off the pain, he looks up and sees Sektor coming.

Joe Hoffman: SNAP POWERSLAM BY HARRISON!

ONE.

TWO.

KICKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: For the third time in the match… it’s JUST not enough to put Sektor away!

Benny Newell: Try harder, Harrison!

Hoffman brushes off that stupid comment by Newell and continues to call the match. Both men get to their feet and both men decide to lock into a grapple once more.

Joe Hoffman: Harrison has Sektor in the headlock!

But it’s almost as if Sektor baited Harrison into doing so because he finds the ability to slip out easily this time, get behind Harrison and drop him on his head in a snapdragon!

Harrison hits the mat in a THUD, making the fans in the front row gasp at the noise. Sektor walks over, looks down at his opponent and shakes his head.

Joe Hoffman: Sektor is hoping to lock in… oh my God… yes, he has a camel clutch applied to Harrison!

Dead to rights in the middle of the ring, there’s nowhere for Harrison to go.

Joe Hoffman: The undefeated streak might be over!

Benny Newell: All good things come to an end, Joe! All of them! Even Scott Stevens’ virginity has to end one day!

Joe Hoffman: Uhhh, he has a kid- you know what, why am I acknowledging this!?

Harrison waves his hands around, trying to find a way out of the hold but John Sektor has it locked in, sitting as far back on Harrison’s back as he can. Steve is trying to move, trying to do anything…

Joe Hoffman: How long can Harrison last! It looks like he’s going to tap…

Harrison, indeed, raises his right arm and is about to smack it against John Sektor’s leg…

But stops himself right before he does.

Instead, Harrison balls his hand into a fist and tries fighting the pain. Sektor, meanwhile, sits back even harder. Perhaps, too hard.

Joe Hoffman: It’s a miracle!

Harrison slides forward and breaks free as Sektor falls on his ass! However, Harrison’s in a lot of pain right now and only Sektor’s pride was hurt, allowing Steve to wiggle out of the hold because of John’s own desire to inflict even more punishment. The tag team champion walks over to his opponent and wants to apply the move again.

Joe Hoffman: ROLL UP BY HARRISON! He was playing possum!

ONE.

TWO.

KICKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: Almost had him!

Benny Newell: Shut up with this “almost” bullshit. I’m fine with both of these guys fucking drilling each other but let’s not feed any egos when NO ONE HAS WON the match!

Harrison uses the ropes to get to his feet. You can see the pain he’s going through because of his back. Sektor, on the other hand, shakes his head, stunned the Hall of Famer allowed himself to be so vulnerable too many times in this contest.

Sektor charges at Harrison… and Harrion drops the ropes on him. Sektor lands on the apron. He receives a few shots to the side of the head by Harrison and then The Miracle Man tries to suplex Sektor back into the ring.

It’s blocked.

Attempt x2.

Blocked.

Attempt x3.

You guessed it, blocked.

Joe Hoffman: Sektor suplexes Harrison up and out of the ring, off the apron and both men CRASH to the floor on the outside!

Replays show Harrison’s feet meet the barricade and almost take out a fan. The impact has both wrestlers down. It takes a while but, eventually, Sektor is first to his feet. With the referee at a count of “SEVEN”, Sektor snatches Harrison and throws him into the ring. Once Sektor enters between the top and middle rope… he’s met with a stiff kick to the side of the head from Harrison!

Harrison pulls Sektor up by his hair and then connects with a northern lights suplex into a bridge and a pin!

ONE.

TWO.

KICKOUT!

Benny Newell: Sektor has already lasted WAY longer than he needs to in order to take down High Flyer at Iconic! The cardo is there, John! Way to go!

The Hall of Famer takes deep breaths, however, as he pulls himself vertically. Harrison is spinning his wheels on what to do next.

Joe Hoffman: Harrison HAMMERS Sektor with a right hand! Sektor returns it with a right of his own!

The two go back and forth until Harrison knees Sektor in the side of the head. It wasn’t the Enlightenment setup move he’s known for but it looks like a variation of it. Steve follows this by bouncing into the ropes and dropkicks Sektor’s shin! The Miracle looks to put this match away and he reels Sektor in for another suplex…

Joe Hoffman: Sektor breaks free! He pushes Harrison to the ropes and crushes Harrison with a running forearm smash!

Sektor hurls the LSD contender into the corner and then comes charging in with a shoulder block! Harrison wobbles out of the buckle and Sektor chop blocks Harrison to the mat!

Joe Hoffman: Oh, we could see it…

Benny Newell: The Sektor Stretch!

Joe Hoffman: The Dragon Sleeper is applied! Harrison has nowhere to go! The streak could be over!

Harrison’s trying to break free… the camera catches the back of his head, locked into the arm of Sektor, as Steve’s eyes dart around the canvas, looking to see how far away the ropes are!

It’s equal distance between all ring ropes… meaning Harrison’s dead center in the middle of the squared circle.

Joe Hoffman: John Sektor is going to make the ultimate statement heading into Iconic! He took A LOT of what Harrison threw at him but the wiley vet…

Benny Newell: I wouldn’t say it’s over yet, Joe!

Harrison tries to find his feet but Sektor has performed the move so many times he leans back further, guaranteeing no vertical base. Sektor walks the line between leaning back hard but not going as far back as possible to ensure the pressure is distributed to Harrison’s neck… and throughout The Miracle Man’s body!

Joe Hoffman: Steve Harrison may tap!

Harrison’s free hand flies around…

Benny Newell: High Flyer taps out INSTANTLY if this shit’s applied. Well done, John!

Joe Hoffman: You have to wonder what’s more important… this unbeaten streak Harrison has or to be in top form for the LSD Title!

Harrison pulls his arm up…

He holds it…

Holds it…

But, ultimately…

Tap, tap, tap.

Sektor releases the hold and falls to the canvas.

DING DING DING

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner… JOHN SEKKKKTORRR!

Joe Hoffman: I might not want to admit it but this was a hell of a contest. Sektor’s game plan was taken away by Harrison. In the end, though, the Hall of Famer gets the victory, and you gotta believe that Harrison made a business decision there at the end before the big LSD Championship match at ICONIC.

Benny Newell: The Bitch Tapped. Print the shirts and make sure to have his mug on the milk carton.

The cameras cut back to Harrison who has slid to the car corner and is propped up against the bottom turnbuckle. He is rubbing his neck in pain……but his eyes never leave the victorious HOW Hall of Famer as we cut to our final commercial break.

“I’m telling you, we won’t get caught!” 

Back live from commercial and peeking around one of the many corners backstage a pair of eyes was checking to see if the coast was clear. Stepping out into the main hallway were two teenagers who probably didn’t belong backstage at a Refueled Show. A girl and a boy. Most likely a couple that snuck in because the boyfriend wanted to show his gal a good time. She seems reluctant. 

Girl: “I don’t want to get in trouble..”

Boy: “We won’t. If they catch us we will say we’re Uber Eats looking for someone.”

Girl: “Who? And what food are we delivering?” 

Both good questions. The boy didn’t seem to care as he led them down the hallway. At times, he would peek through doors to see who was in the room. Wanting to find someone of higher celebrity, he had a plan. 

Boy: “As soon as we find Cancer Jiles and steal his underwear, we can leave.”

Girl: “Do you really think someone will buy them on eBay?” 

Boy: “Shhh someone’s coming! In here, hurry!!”

Bursting into a bathroom door, the Boy leads his girlfriend through the doorway. Instantly they run into something more dreadful than getting caught. Not even inside the bathroom, they are cut short from entry as before them stood a man hidden behind a Black Ski Mask. 

Boy: “Excuse you! Ohhh H- H- Hey there…”

Behind the mask, the eyes were piercing and intense. There was a reason to be concerned as the boy catches a glimpse of something else in the bathroom. The man in the Ski Mask shoves the boy back out into the hallway. 

Ski Mask: “Shhhh..”

A whispered noise signaling them to keep quiet. Something they both could agree too because they didn’t want to be caught. The man in the Ski Mask casually leaves and cuts down another corner before disappearing. The boy’s girlfriend looks petrified as she hugs against her boyfriend wanting to leave. 

Girl: “We need to leave. We’re gonna get arrested!”

Boy: “Be quiet. I want to check this out.. I seen something else inside.”

Slowly the boy pushes against the door to the bathroom. Not rushing to see inside but knowing he had to look. 

Girl: “What is it? What did you see?”

Boy: “I think it was…”

Finally taking a final deep breath, he steps through the doorway. Prepared for what his head was telling him, he lays eyes on the scene.

Boy: “Blood.”

There on the floor, leaned between a bathroom stall and a urinal was a man covered in blood. Soaked as if he had taken a bath or been on the receiving end of a swirlie. The boy stared with eyes wide opened and as his girlfriend screamed like a horror queen, he recognized the unconscious and crimson covered face of the body. Not that you needed confirmation because in blood on the floor near him, a name was written in blood. Like someone took up finger painting. The name read. 

DARIN

Boy: “We need to get help.. Hey. Hey! We need to find help! GO!”

His girlfriend in tears tries to calm down. She backs out and turns down the hallway, away from the direction the Ski Mask wearing assailant went. Her cries for help were loud as she hurries down the corridor. The boy turns back to the body. The second left behind in consecutive shows.

The crowd is buzzing from the footage they just seen on the HOV but their focus quickly snaps to attention as the music hits the PA System…

HALLLLLLELUJAH!

HALLLLLLELUJAH!

HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! 

HALLEEEEEEEELUJAH! 

The catchy but vaguely off putting groove of Hanzel und Gretyl’s “HELLAlujah” begins to slap over the sound system, heralding the arrival of the SON OF GOD, Michael Lee Best. The record setting World Champion and Hall of Famer steps out slowly onto the stage, making his way toward the ramp.

Joe Hoffman: In lieu of a regularly scheduled fourth match tonight, folks, we’ve been informed by Lee Best himself that his son, the HOW World Champion, will be coming down to address the upcoming World and ICON Championship match at ICONIC. 

Benny Newell: About time he fucking talked about it. It’s the most heatless main event of all time, Joe! How do you go from literal murder to literally not showing up on television for practically two months? This is embarrassing. 

Joe Hoffman: Whether I agree with it or not, Benny, Michael made it very clear that he wasn’t going to pander to the High Octane fans this time around, and that he was going to let his work speak for itself. Barring the brawl at the end of last week’s show between Mike Best and Dan Ryan, these two have hardly acknowledged one another in front of a camera for going on two months now. 

Climbing up the ring steps, Michael Lee Best ducks into the ring and takes the microphone from Bryan McVay, staring out into the crowd. He tucks the World Championship smugly over his shoulder, as he addresses the fans directly. 

Mike Best: So here we are. 

Softly nodding his head, Michael drowns out the vague yelling of “MURDERER!” from a few sections of the arena. 

Mike Best: Two weeks out from the biggest pay-per-view of the year, with one of the biggest matches in HOW history, between two of the biggest stars in the history of professional wrestling, competing for the two biggest championships in existence. The fate of the Group of Death, the ICON Championship, and potentially the future of HOW itself rests on one match, and you wanna hear something funny? I’ve done dick all to promote it. Because fuck you, that’s why. 

The champion smirks, as the booing of the crowd drones in just like he’s expecting it too. The Shepherd of HOW allows the sheep to bleet their little hearts out for a moment, and doesn’t speak again until they’ve quieted. 

Mike Best: A little over a month ago, I killed a man on live television. Not just any man. My brother. My actual, legally adopted brother. In a literal deathmatch, on a pay-per-view that didn’t even officially sell out. So fuck you. I’m done dancing for you shitty mouthbreathers. I’m done putting my relationships and my friendships on the line for the entertainment of a bunch of fat, sentient fedoras who talk about my workrate on the Internet. I’m done destroying my own life and sabotaging my own best interests for a business that is never going to love me back. I’m the stepfather of wrestling, dickheads– you can hate me all you want, but you’re sure as fuck gonna respect me. 

He slaps his chest, eyes narrowed out at the masses. 

Mike Best: These titles we carry, these aren’t accessories. These aren’t little gold stars, or blue ribbons. These are living, breathing representations of what it means to be the goddamned BEST. These are our hearts. These are our souls. These are everything that we have worked for years to build, and to protect, and in two weeks one of us has to lose our heart. One of us has to lose our soul. So if you think this match isn’t going to live up to expectations, just because neither of us put the other through a fucking table in the buildup, you’re stupid as fuck and–

Before he can finish speaking, the lights go out in the arena, bringing a buzz through the crowd as a dual-spotlight makes an encircling pattern on the entrance area. “Daddy’s Home” by JT Music begins to blast over the speakers, as ICON Champion Dan Ryan steps out and pauses, looking into the audience. He heads down the aisle as pyro blasts behind him, the ICON Championship over his shoulder and a microphone already in hand. 

Joe Hoffman: Well, folks, it looks like Dan Ryan has perhaps taken some umbrage to something that his fellow Group of Death brother and ICONIC opponent has said here tonight, and he clearly has something to say. 

Benny Newell: Here we go, Joe. Better late than never! KILL EACHOTHER! 

Slowly, Dan climbs up onto the apron and steps directly over the ropes, getting into the ring. He towers over the HOW World Champion, standing a half a foot taller than his friend and opponent. His expression is cold, as he raises the microphone to his lips. 

Dan Ryan: No heat, buddy? Because I seem to recall a little brawl to the back last week, and I also seem to recall that you threw the first punch. Do you recall that, friend? 

A smirk on his face, Michael Lee Best doesn’t back down at all– he stares right up at the eyes of Dan Ryan and answers back, as the crowd begins to buzz. 

Mike Best: You know, I DO recall something like that, amigo. I recall a little brawl to the back too, but I seem to recall that YOU threw the first punch. How about that, mon frere? 

Both men’s fingers dangle against their championships, as each take a step forward to confront one another. They’re jaw jacking some shit back and forth off microphone, looking like they’re about to come to blows, and then suddenly… it happens. 

They both begin to laugh. 

And the crowd begins to boo. 

Joe Hoffman: Oh Jesus Christ. 

Benny Newell: WEAK ASS BOOKING. Someone get the Best Alliance down here to start cracking skulls, goddamnit! MAKE THIS MATCH THE OPENER! 

Bumping knuckles in the ring, Michael takes a step back and allows Dan his time to speak. He holds the microphone in front of his face, smirking as he looks out at the unimpressed crowd. 

Dan Ryan: I know what you all wanted. You wanted me to come out here to the ring just days after Max’s death and take advantage of Mike’s emotional state. You wanted me to acost him backstage, in the halls — you wanted me to exploit my friend for the purposes of winning my first HOW World Championship. That’s what you all wanted. These last few months, I’ve pretty much steamrolled everyone who has been put in my path. I paralyzed two Murray brothers. I paralyzed Scott Stevens. Doozer might be dead. Have you seen him? I don’t know. I saw a pair of jorts just lying in a pool of blood after the show. Maybe he melted. Either way, you people want me to do the same thing to Mike, and it’s sick. You’re all fucking sick. You all want me to do it right now, don’t you? Yeah, you do. OOOOOH, I’m gonna insult you, Mike! I’m gonna go too far! You’re gonna wanna hit me! We’ll tease a physical confrontation, get in each other’s face, security runs out to pull us apart…… COMPLETE MAYHEM. 

The ICON Champion shakes his head, taking the ICON Championship off his shoulder and holding it in his free hand. He takes a hard look at the belt, before looking back up at the crowd with resentment in his eyes. 

Dan Ryan: Yeah, well fuck all of you. You heard me. Fuck every single last one of you. I’m not your monkey, and this isn’t some sort of bullshit friendship you’re fuckin’ around with. This is a goddamn brotherhood. You understand me? It’s not a joke. You want us to go toe to toe at ICONIC with our belts on the line? That’s fine. That’s fine. But fuck your expectations. We may be the two best professional wrestlers in the entire world right now, and I don’t give a rat’s ass what order any of you shit-nosed cunts put us in. We’ll do our fucking jobs, and we’ll compete, and it’ll be the best match on the show, I guaran-fucking-tee it, but it won’t be because either of us give a flying fuck about entertaining you. It’s just gonna be because we’re that fucking good. You motherfuckers don’t deserve this match. We’re doing this in spite of you, not for you. Every last one of you. Just fuck off.

The booing is even louder now, as Dan lowers the microphone, giving a quick nod of the head over at his stablemate. Michael nods back, holding up his microphone and tagging in. 

Mike Best: It’s not fair. I know that’s what you’re all thinking. You work hard– guys like Scott Stevens and Darin Matthews and High Flyer, you bust your fucking dicks off week after week, and you want it baaaaaaad. You’re so fucking horny for the spot we’re in. The main event of ICONIC, the prestigious titles, the unending awards. And you watch Dan Ryan and I cut the strings off our backs and deny the puppeteers their show, and you fucking’ resent it. I haven’t shown up to TV in a fortnight, and I’m gonna main event ICONIC, and we’re gonna steal the fucking show. No promotion. No hard work. No entertainment for the fans, the lifeblood of the industry blah blah blah. And you guys? You’re gonna sit at home, and wonder when Lee Best decides to throw you  a mandatory title shot at me, just so you can roll the dice one more time. But let me tell you, cats and kittens, life isn’t fair. Straight up.

The fans are livid now– the hubris of the remaining two members of the Group of Death is nearly too much to measure, as Dan pats the World Champion on the back. Michael’s smirk only grows wider, knowing full well he’s getting away with this and costing them a real main event. 

Mike Best: I’m the kid in your math class who didn’t have to study, and still got As all the time. Dan Ryan is the athlete who never showed up to practice, but still hit all the home runs. We’re better than you– we’re so much better than you that I can come down here, masturbate into this microphone about how good we are for twenty minutes to end the show, and we’re still gonna sell that motherfucker out. We’re STILL gonna be the most watched match in wrestling this month. We’re STILL gonna tear the house down. Dan Ryan is my friend, and I’m not gonna pretend he isn’t just to pander to a bunch of fucking [BLEEP] in helmets who don’t understand fuckin’ sublety. And I can say that word, too, because the rules don’t apply to me the same way they do to you.  

A giant gasp from the Chicago crowd, while audiences at home wonder which of the 7 words Stevens can’t say on television was just uttered in front of a live audience.

Dan Ryan: To be completely honest, I don’t know why any of you are booing. I don’t know why any of you would act surprised at this point. I guess you’re so used to the endless train of fucknuts who come in and out of this place that you forgot. You just plain forgot. You don’t have to beg me to fight. You don’t have to beg me to compete. You don’t have to beg me to do whatever it takes to win the HOW World Championship. But excellence isn’t the song and dance you dipshits want. This, standing in the ring right now? This… is excellence. This is excellence on a level that you may never see again, a level you don’t deserve. Blow up a friendship for you clowns? Most of you, I wouldn’t even let wash my car. You people are nothing to me. Nothing.

He sneers, thinking about saying something else, then just shakes his head as the boos come cascading down on the ring. He turns to the crowd and leans on the top rope, his eyes panning around that side of the arena. He looks back at Mike, who nods. Dan waves him on to speak, then turns back, muttering under his breath, “Idiots.” 

Mike Best: Dan Ryan, good luck at ICONIC. I’m gonna beat the absolute dog shit out of you, and do everything that I can to retain my championship and become the final ICON Champion in history. Period, end of story. I’m gonna cheat, I’m gonna fight dirty, and you might have to break both my legs to keep me from getting back up, time and time again. I hope you’ll do the same. And when it’s over? I’m gonna shake your fucking hand, win or lose, as one of us is holding up those titles. Because fuck the fans, fuck HOW, and fucking the professional wrestling industry. 

In mocking fashion, he steps toward the middle of the ring and holds the HOW World Championship up in the air, like it’s some kind of a pre-fight staredown. Dan Ryan does the same, holding the ICON Championship high as smart phones come out across the whole arena. 

Mike Best: Hope you enjoyed tonight’s main event. Order ICONIC. 

He drops the microphone, flipping it casually against the canvas as it feedbacks out across the speakers. Dan Ryan smirks as he looks Mike Best in the eyes, then extends a middle finger in front of him. He holds it up in the air, and turns it toward the stage. The final image of Refueled is indeed a stare down between two champions, but somewhere Lee Best is absolutely furious. 

Refueled comes to an end. 

Instead of cutting to the credits for the last Refueled of 2020, we cut quickly to the office of Lee Best.

We see the GOD of HOW sitting behind his desk and in front of him is a monitor that was showing the footage of the show. Lee, unable to see obviously, has the volume turned up high as he listened to the whole broadcast.

As the final part of the final segment finished Lee, like almost everyone, waited to hear that something would happened.

But nothing did.

Lee turns towards where he knows his bodyguard is standing.

Lee Best: What the hell happened at the end…….did they come to blows and those fucking assholes of announcers stayed quiet? Was there shock and awe going on?

Bodyguard: They raised the belts and the show cut here…..you are live right now.

Lee cannot come up with a good reply to the finish of the final Refueled of 2020…instead he just leans back in his chair and lets out an audible sigh.

After a few moments he sits back up.

Lee Best: Well fuck……I am not even mad….just disappointed. 

Lee slowly stands up and as he does hears his bodyguard jump into action.

Lee Best: Who is it?? 

Lee instantly cowers in fear of an attack.

“It is I Grand Dad”

Standing in front of Lee is none other than Sutler.

Bodyguard: Its Sutler…..your

Lee Best: Ya ya ya….

Lee quickly stands back up and faces the direction of Sutler’s voice.

Lee Best: Look kid I heard what you said out there earlier tonight and I get it and you know what…..fuck it…..let’s add another match to the fucking card……just in case one shits the bed.

Sutler: “That is all I want…..who?”

Lee pauses as he gives it a good think….and then smiles.

Lee Best: Anyone…..and Everyone not already booked on the ICONIC Card.  Anyone that wants to step into that ring with you will have a chance. We will have ourselves a good ol clusterfuck of a multi wrestler match and the winner……well they get a prize…..and the prize will be the opportunity to name one of The DeNucci Cup groups……how does that sound?

The camera zooms into the face of Sutler and as he slowly smiles the show comes to an end.