Refueled XXV

The HOTv logo gives way as we cut immediately to the center of the ring as  “Throne” by Bring Me the Horizon blares over the PA System as Max Stryker walks out from behind the curtain as we are starting immediately with the first match of the evening.

Joe Hoffman: Nothing like getting right to it folks. I am Joe Hoffman and as always I am joined tonight by my Hall of Fa-

Benny Newell: Ya just skip all that shit Joe. Everyone knows you are only in the Hall of Fame because I carried us there. If it wasn’t for me you would be working as often as Brian Bare.

Joe can only shake his head as its obvious this will just be another one of the countless other nights where Benny’s drunken exploits overshadow his professionalism.

The camera returns focus to Styker as he rushes down the entrance ramp.  The camera pans across his back showing off the “World Class Athlete” in big gold letters as he climbs up the apron and flaunts his perfect physique towards the crowd as the boo him.  He points at his watch indicating he wants this match to start right now.

Bryan McVay:  Introducing first, from London, England…

Stryker grabs the microphone and throws it down to a chorus of boos. The Arena lights slowly begin to fade to black as ANTI-SOCIAL by While She Sleeps starts to fade in on the arena speaks, a lonely silver strobe light begins to flash in the middle of the entranceway as a figure makes his way from the back. His silhouette stands for a moment still before opening his arms up and leaning his head back as if he is on a crucifix.  Bryan McVay picks up the microphone and continues the introductions as he heads to ringside.

Benny Newell: I got the over that Stryker’s entrance was longer than this match is about to be….

Bryan McVay:  And his opponent:  from Sinaloa, Mexico; LUCIÁN SANTÁNGEL!

As he lowers his head the lights turn into a red spotlight from above the figure and we can see dressed ready for action is Lucian Santangel, As he slowly walks down the ring he looks at the crowd with an unhappy look on his face, he walks around the ring before rolling under the bottom rope. Some fans in the crowd throw streamers at him as he raises his hands once in the ring. He walks over to the comer and slumps down resting his head on the lowest turnbuckle…while Stryker motions for Matt Boettcher to get in the ring.  As the lights go up and Lucián stands up, Stryker immediately hits him with a superkick and wastes no time.  Boettcher asks for the bell and the match begins.

DING!  DING!  DING!  DING! 

Max Stryker quickly locks in the Union Jack on Stryker.   In the background, you hear two glasses hit the commentary table and clanging of ice cubes hitting the glass rims.  Benny Newell is already pouring the glasses.

Benny Newell:  As sure as I am ready to finger blast my way thru Redtube later……it is time for a drink.

We cut back into the ring where Stryker’s got the Union Jack on, when suddenly Lucián slowly slips out of the hold, rolls into the corner, creepily stands up, rolling his eyes back, then locks eyes with Stryker and mouths:  “My Turn!”

Joe Hoffman:  And Stryker just pissed of Lucián…this isn’t going to end well for him folks!

Lucián quickly charges towards Stryker and hits the Slingblade without hesitation.  He rolls Stryker on his back and rears back and stiff Fujiwara armbar, contorting Stryker and making him scream out in excruciating pain.  Lucián lets go of the hold, then locks in a Crossface Chicken wing on Stryker, contorting the hell out of him.

Joe Hoffman:  Let this be a lesson folks; never try contorting someone who hangs out with contortionists on a regular basis.

Right as Stryker wants to tap out, Lucián lets go of the hold.  He stands to his feet.  While Stryker tries to get to his feet, Lucián rushes at hit, spins around and locks in the Octopus hold really tight, forcing Stryker to fall into the ropes while Boettcher calls for the rope break.  He grabs Stryker’s hand and yanks the fingers back stiffly, slowly pulling them and popping them.  Lucián leaps back to his feet, then grabs Stryker landing a stiff brainbuster on him.    He climbs up to the top rope and hits the Corkscrew Senton Bomb on Stryker and motions for his finisher.  He yanks Stryker off the mat, and grabs him with the double underhook, motioning to towards the crowd.

Joe Hoffman:  ESPIGA DE LA MUERTE!!!!!  It’s over folks!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING!  DING!  DING!  DING!

Bryan McVay:  Here is your winner……. LUUUUUCIÁN SAAAAAAANTÁNGEL!

Benny Newell:  Winner Winner Chicken Dinner on the Entrance as the over. Pay me motherfucker.

Joe Hoffman: Benny you know darn well that High Octane Gambling has been shut down with Lee focusing on other matters.

Benny Newell: Well maybe its time for someone to step the fuck up and help him…..WINNER WINNER CHICKEN FUCKING DINNER!

Joe ignores Benny as he continues on…

Joe Hoffman: The War Games Draft Pool Qualified Lucian makes another statement tonight. Speaking of statements we heard earlier today that Mike Best is smartly staying home tonight and already made his pick, the man that qualified with Lucian at the Lethal Lottery show, Dan Ryan.

Benny Newell: Ya I had Dan Ryan at -750 as Mike’s next pick. There is NO WAY I am falling for that Linz Troy pick that Mike threw out there though……..What the fuck has she done lately?

Joe ignores Newell once again as inside the ring Boettcher raises Lucián’s hand.

Lucián then slowly gets out of the ring, and walks back just smiling sadistically at how much damage he did to Stryker as we cut away.

As we cut to the backstage area we see the blonde bombshell, Blaire Moise, standing next to a man we haven’t seen in awhile and that man’s name is Scott Stevens.

Blaire Moise: Ladies and gentlemen, my guest at this time, Scott Stevens.

There is a mixed reaction as Stevens comes approaches Blaire.

Blaire Moise: Scott, I just wanted to say welcome back.

Scott Stevens: Thanks Blaire, it feels good to be back.

Blaire Moise: Did you have any issues getting in?

Scott Stevens: The EPU guard with the rubber gloves was surprisingly gentle.

Stevens says with a chuckle as Blaire continues.

Blaire Moise: Tonight, you have a tremendous opportunity as you take on Max Kael for the LSD championship which will be hanging from a pole. Your thoughts?

Scott Stevens: Tonight is a golden opportunity for me Blaire as I once again step into the ring as a challenger for a championship belt something I thought I wouldn’t have the opportunity again.

Stevens says with an air of sorrow in his tone.

Scott Stevens: I know Max well and he isn’t going to relinquish that championship without a fight. He will take me to hell and back to make sure I have earned the right to not only have beaten the Number One Ranked Wrestler in High Octane Wrestling, but to truly call myself the LSD champion.

Stevens turns towards the camera and his expression turns serious.

Scott Stevens: Max, I know you’re expecting an easy victory tonight, but I promise you I’m here to prove that theory wrong and I’m going to bring the fight to you and win or lose you’ll know you were in the fight of your life!

Stevens says emphatically as his eyes grow wide.

Scott Stevens: I hope you’re ready Max because I’m coming for that LSD championship!

Stevens informs everyone before exiting the scene and we cut to our first commercial break.

WAR GAMES MAIN EVENT FOR THE WORLD, ICON & LSD CHAMPIONSHIPS
Captain Michael Lee Best©, Cecilworth Farthington©, Dan Ryan, ?? vs. Maximillian Kael Best©, ??, ??, ??

We cut back from commercial hearing loud fists hitting the door.

WHAM!

WHAM!

WHAM!

WHAM!

Darin Matthews:  Lee!  Open up!  LEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!   Come on!  Get out here!

The camera pans around to see Darin Matthews on his knees, incessantly knocking on Lee Best’s office door, begging in tears.  After weeks of cutting promos, doing things to impress and get Lee’s attention; Darin’s at his wits end.  He’s done everything except for gravel.  Matthews hammers his fists on the door again, whaling out in an annoyingly nasally tone.

Darin Matthews:  LEEEEEEE!  Come on!  You need me back on the roster!  I’m the most decorated professional wrestler to come in from outside of HOW.  See?!  My resume!  I brought ALL 23 of my glorious championship replicas; including the 6 most important ones to my career Lee!  See?!

Once again, the camera cuts to behind Matthews where the contents of his entire suitcase are sprawled out on the arena floor.  Championships from PWX, Boardwalk, and HOW can be seen all over the place, disorganized on the floor, almost as if Matthews threw a temper tantrum.  Tears roll down Matthews eyes as he puts his hands together begging like an insignificant plebe.

Darin Matthews:  I’M SOOOOOOOORRRRRY!  I messed up when I came back.  But I changed.  Call Mr. McMann of the SEC in MVW.  I took you for grant it after all these years, Lee.  I fought against you.  I realize your power and why I need you.  How important HOW was to my life.  I…

SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK! 

The shiny sequence of a black dress shine against the door and Matthews falls down as Meredith slaps him square in his ears, bringing him down to the floor.  Matthews lies there for a moment disoriented before getting up and shooting her a death stare.  Before he can even open his mouth, her hand shoots up.  Her tone seems firmer after the last few weeks.  Veins protrude from her forehead.  All the anger she’s bottled up comes spewing out with each word, hitting Matthews square in the heart.

Meredith:  Look at you!  You’re ruining our second chance at life.  I believe firmly we all deserve second chances.  Hell, you took a chance on this drug addicted mother trying to get her life turned around for her daughter.  But I’ll be damned if I watch you screaming in these hall ways like a spoiled brat.

Matthews rubs his red ears and rolls his eyes at her as he heads to sit down on one of the crates nearby.  He pouts as he listens, turning his back to her while she speaks.

Meredith:  I have no room to talk, but this isn’t how a professional earns their job back.  You don’t need to beg let alone.  “Sometimes you have to grab life by the horns and ride it, even if it tries to throw you.”  Seize the day.  Make your own opportunities; you know?   Do you honestly want to sit back and rely on people taking advantage of your talents and get nothing in return?

Matthews begrudgingly shakes his head as he continues to stare blankly down at the floor.

Meredith:  Of course not!  You want back in HOW so badly?  Then stop sitting back until you get the approval…

Matthews stands up and cuts her off.  His eyes widen blankly.  No gears turning or any thought churning in his brain.  Just the simple, pure delusions of grandeur twisting in his head.  His eyes twitch for a moment.  His voice sending chills down your spine with bitterness and hatred forming.  Slowly his smile twists across his face as he slowly turns around, looking Meredith blankly in the eyes.

Darin Matthews:  You’re right!  It’s time to swallow my pride.  I’ve merely only scratched the surface of the problem.  I’m not tackling the problem itself.

He slowly paces towards Meredith as she walks up towards a crate, fear sending shivers down her spine.  As he approaches her, he puts his arm around her with his expression growing more blank with each passing moment.  He sticks his arm in the air, waving it across the sky.

Darin Matthews:  It’s been right in front of my face this entire time.  I don’t need to earn Lee’s approval.  I need to tackle the problem from within.  Next week, I’ll do just that.  I’ll handle the disrespectful cunt who ruined my HOW career.  The guy who singlehandedly cast my hopes and dreams into oblivion will pay for his crimes.  I don’t need some fucking piece of paper to give me jurisdiction of my talents.  I’m the Tyrant of the Territories!  I’m the Independent Sensation.  I do as I please!  Next week Meredith, I will introduce you to the man who cast me…the greatest Work Horse in Professional Wrestling…into obscurity.  Then I will make both of our problems go away.

Matthews pulls his arm away from Meredith’s shoulder and storms off as she rolls her eyes chasing after him as we cut away elsewhere.

Andy Murray: Hello pricks.

A Scottish brogue that could really only come from one person booms around the Allstate. The camera quickly hones in on the 24K suite outside which The King of Wrestling stands with his half of the HOW Tag Team Championships draped over his shoulder, the Golden Microphone™ in his hand, and the closest thing to a grin he’s capable of mustering on his face.

Joe Hoffman: Chicago is NOT pleased to see 24K tonight, Benny!

Benny Newell: That’s because these guys keep on winning, Hoff! Everybody hates Goliath.

Joe Hoffman: This is definitely going to be one of those segments everybody loves, where these guys just pass a microphone around for 25 minutes…

Murray is flanked by his stablemates, all of whom look to be in a celebratory mood – and you already know 24K is surrounded by an impenetrable wall of private security guards. A couple of dozen bum-rushing fans couldn’t break that line even if they wanted to. Safe in this knowledge, Perfection, Mikey Unlikely, and Jesse Kendrix are all smiles beside and behind Murray, who seems to be waiting for a gap in the crowd’s noise before continuing. He soon loses patience.

Andy Murray: It would be awfully nice if you’d just shut up.

Andy knows exactly what he’s doing. The smile on his face broadens as the negativity fires up again and he holds his arms out of the side, basking in it. Though partially obscured by the belt, it looks like Murray is indeed wearing his Slayer of GoDs t-shirt again.

And yes, Mr. Newell, Lindsay Troy and Dan Ryan’s heads have been X-d over twice. 

Joe Hoffman: Jeesh, talk about petty…

Andy Murray: Last week was big for 24K. Not only did the Hollywood Bruvs put a bullet to whatever remained of the Group of Death’s B-team, but me and Beige Joseph up there did the same to High Flyer and MJ Flair’s two-week Cinderella story…

The King nods up to Section 214, drawing a cheer for Joe Bergman and his People.

Andy Murray: Turns out Eli Flair’s Dipshit Daughter and Cracked Jack still aren’t fit to run with the wolves in my division. It’s almost like somebody was saying it all along! Lads, I’ll tell you what…

Murray briefly turns to the rest of 24K.

Andy Murray: … I love being right.

And then back to the arena.

Andy Murray: And speaking of being right! Hey, Lindsay, Daniel… how’d you like your taste of the Gold life you sacks of piss?

The King looks right down the camera lens and waves, his face full of cuntery.

Andy Murray: These two dumbasses kicked Harmen and Flair to the kerb and created the Group of Death on some “you’re not pulling your weight” bollocks, and look where they are now. If I’m Mike Best, I’m seriously questioning my choice of allies here, because holy shit is the shoe on the other foot now…

He takes a moment to adjust the belt on his shoulder before pulling the Golden Microphone™ once more, preventing the crowd noise from building up again.

Andy Murray: It’s funny as fuck, honestly. LT thought a little frapp trap was going to buy her a win over one of the best tag teams on the planet, The Hollywood Bruvs, and in turn a golden ticket to come and see The King. How’d that work out for you? How does it feel to know you aren’t making the All-Star Game anymore? What’s it like to look around the Group of Death locker-room and see Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, and Dennis Rodman staring back at you, knowing you aren’t even Steve goddamn Kerr?

A little pop for the hometown sports reference – but only a little one.

Andy Murray: But that’s enough about 2020 Jack Haley. Boys…

We can see Perfection put up his finger to ‘hold on’ as he’s finishing writing down something on a business card. James then slyly hands it to a guard directly in front of him, who then hands it to a brunette closest to the suite. We can pick up the first four words he says before raising his Golden Microphone™ to his lips.

Benny Newell: Oh god, not this guy. No one cares what you have to say, douchebag!

Perfection: Call me later, darling. But hey, maybe the ‘Slayer of GoDs’…

Witherhold looks and smiles at Andy.

Perfection: Didn’t make this clear enough for you incels… shut your mouths… you low-grade Maywood trash!

The locals understand the jab and they sure as hell don’t appreciate it causing a larger roar. A beer also is flung at the suite and swatted away by a security. The normal digs for Perfection.

Benny Newell: Heh. It might be cheap, but it worked.

Perfection: Now, I want you to take a good, hard look right above OUR suite…

The camera pans up to show a large black LED screen mounted directly above the 24k luxury suite in Section 111. Gold bracketing covering the outside and cut into two areas, a smaller header display and main. Nothing is currently showing on either though. 

Perfection: As you can see, 24k has spared no expense for this glorious piece of art. I know what you dumb fucks are asking yourselves. What could we possibly put up on this display?

Bruvs skit? Frapps, strippes, percentage of obvs?

Perfection: While Lindsay and Dan are too busy fapping to frappes. While Mike Best focuses solely on himself and subsequently… I know… big fucking word for you lot!

Perfection lowers his microphone as the crowd isn’t having it. Little does he care. 

Perfection: SUB-SE-QUENTLY, turning GoD into nothing more than tin! We’ve spent eighty-four days… two-thousand-sixteen hours, for the nineteen-odd-thousand of you out there who can’t math, UNSCATHED!

Perfection gives us that trademark smirk while nodding at the Bruvs then looking at Murray before patting the Scots HoW Tag Team Championship.

Perfection: I was told GoD forming was the biggest, largest, most worthwhile moment to ever happen in HoW! I was told that was the group everyone should fear, should take heed of. Eighty-four days of WRONG! For almost three solid months GoD hasn’t dominated High Octane…. WE HAVE!

Witherhold makes a quick turn towards the sheer definition of Sport Entertainment.

Perfection: The Bruvs rebounded off having to wrestle their own… AGAIN… no easy feat, folks! Murr here has busted his ass…

James turns and faces southeast, towards Section 214 while pointing up at the nosebleeds. His solemn nature now turned to anger.

Perfection: While having to carry your sloppy asses up there in two-one-four to victory!

That gets the upper levels to really start hurling down the boos. A dismissive wave follows from Witherhold.

Perfection: Whatever, go drink another PBR, you cheap fucks.

Witherhold shakes his head and puts his finger up before motioning over towards the Bruvs and then over to Andy 

Perfection: Which of you gentlemen would love to do the honors?

Perfection turns his back to the crowd and lifts his arms up toward the display in a sign of embrace. Mikey Unlikely steps forward and pulls his cell phone from his pocket. He leans over to the mic that Perfection is holding. 

Mikey Unlikely: Bruv, I’d be more than happy to help! Let’s see here… 

We can hear Kendrix in the background. 

Kendrix: Mikey’s quite the helper! I’ve always said that! 

Witherhold completes the fantastic saying. 

Perfection: Yea, but I said it first! 

Unlikely moves through the apps before selecting one. He smiles before hitting the button that activates the giant sign. The header on the display reads: 

The Manly Man Cave (PS: It’s So Manly)

And directly under it in the main crawls large gold font:

84 Days 

Without Incident

24k take a moment to admire the beautiful addition above their suite. Collecting the Golden Mic from Perfection, Jesse Fredericks Kendrix slowly raises the mic.

Kendrix: Listen, yeah?!

Mikey holds his hands out flat by the side of his ears encouraging the divided audience to follow his tag partner’s very simple instructions. Having received a rub of his shoulders from Perfection, Jesse’s shit eating grin grows wider and wider before getting back to work.

Kendrix: It’s been 84 wonderful days since 24K broke in here, ambushed every single member of the eMpire and Industry scary Group of Death merger company and stole the show at the 400th episode of High Octane Wrestling Television. Since then 24k, like any other respectable group of manly men in this business we call professional wrestling, were expecting some kind of comeuppance for embarrassing the dominance of the pre G.o.D. merger while at the same time diminishing the hard work of every single member of the HOW lockeroom past and present for our actions at one of the most important nights in HOW history.

JFK shrugs. His boys have rarely looked smugger.

Kendrix: Usually that old saying, what goes around comes around applies, in these situations but it appears that here in HOW we have either been welcomed with open arms or you pussies in the back have decided to go for the old ignore that scary thing you don’t like and it will go away tactic.

Joe Hoffman: Uhhhh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. These guys are really tempting fate here…

Kendrix: Whichever one it is, on behalf of 24K, JFK would just like to say thank you to each and everyone of you dorks in the back for making us feel so welcome here! 

The Londoner takes a bow then rises back up, blowing a kiss to the audience. They don’t respond well. Some kind of balled-up paper wrapper wooshes past Jesse’s head, so he points down to the culprit.

Kendrix: HEY! YOU DON’T DO THAT!

The King interjects from down the line.

Andy Murray: Lads, are we done passing microphones around? Jimmy’s got a Solex to maul…

Perfection: I think we’ve given these ungrat–… idiots enough gems for one night.

Andy Murray: Alright then. Fuckity bye.

24K slowly filter back into their suite, leaving only boos in their wake, as we see Perfection head out of the suite and presumably towards the ring for his match….which is next.

Joe Hoffman: You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a bunch of pompous, self-indulgent pain in the butts in High Octane Wrestling…

Benny Newell: Assholes Joe. We have seen them all come and go but you are right…….24k is sure as fuck starting to cement their names in the fucking books…..reminds me….I need to place a bet before this next match goes down.

Joe Hoffman: Well why Benny is placing another wager, we’ve got a rematch of a match that was drawn at the Lethal Lottery three weeks ago between Perfection and HOW’s Number One Dad- Steven Solex.  Let’s go to the ring and Bryan McVay.

Bryan McVay: Ladies and gentlemen, our next match will be a singles match with one fall.

ONE FALL!

Bryan McVay: Introducing first . . .

The easy guitar and violin intro to “Cats in the Cradle” by Harry Chapin begins to play through the sound system as the words “#1 Dad” display on the HOV.  The crowd loses their goddamn minds as Steven Solex walks out onto the entrance ramp with a can of PBR in hand.

He lifts it high into the air and Section 214 above the arena goes crazy.

Solex then starts walking down to the ring.

Bryan McVay: …from Huntington Beach, California, representing PBR and weighing in tonight at 252 pounds….he is HOW’s #1 Dad….STEVEN SOLEX!

Steven holds a number one high up in the air, with the biggest, cheesiest smile on his face. He tosses the PBR can to a ring attendant, then rolls under the bottom rope and into the ring as the crowd continues to cheer, firmly behind the mustached half of DAD TAG!

Solex goes camera side and again hoists a number one high in the air, and the crowd responds with number ones of their own while Steven shouts out “#1 Dad!”

Bryan McVay: And his opponent . . .

As Solex goes to the corner and double knots his all white New Balance shoes, the bass-heavy synth of “The Man” by The Killers cues up and Perfection swaggers his way out from behind the curtain. There’s no mixed reaction for 24K’s “mastermind” tonight; the Chicago crowd is showering him with boos from all corners of the Allstate Arena.

But especially from Section 214.  The camera zooms in and the reaction from PBR’s home section is decidedly anti-Perfection.

Joe Hoffman: They definitely heard some of the things Perfection said about PBR and in particular Joe Bergman this past week.

Benny Newell: I will pay money to see Solex give Perfection a stern talking to about respect…but I will be paying more money if Solex wins tonight….

Joe Hoffman: A stern talking to? You bet on Perfection??

Benny Newell: All right, and a good ass kicking too…..and no comment.  DRINK!

Bryan McVay: …from Los Angeles, California, representing 24K and weighing in at 230 pounds….PERFECTION!

Perfection makes his way towards the ring, taking his time to jaw-jack with the fans near the rails. He walks up the stairs to enter the ring, posing for all to see, before wiping the bottom of his boots on the apron and climbing into the ring.

Benny Newell: SEND HIM TO HIS ROOM, DAD!

He poses for all to see flexing and smiling those pearly whites. Now he mounts the turnbuckle to yell at the fans some more before giving one last pose and jumping down.

Joe Hoffman: We are just about ready for-

But before he can finish, a quick hammer-like bass drum-*thwack* blasts out of the arena speakers leading into the guitar driven intro of the Michael Stanley Band’s epic Midwestern anthem “My Town” and wipes the smile off of Perfection’s face.

Joe Hoffman: Hold on a second.

Section 214 and the rest of the Allstate Arena erupts when Joe Bergman – one half of HOW’s Tag Team Champions – steps out onto the stage with the title belt slung over his shoulder.

Joe Hoffman: ‘Ordinary’ Joe Bergman is here!

Benny Newell: Yeah!  Now this is going to get interesting.

Bergman points to the PBR emblem on his t-shirt.  He then turns around and shows the back of his shirt.  There’s a 24K with a red circle around the lettering and a red slash going right through 24K.

Benny Newell: I hope he rips Perfection a new one after all the shit he talked this week about him.

Joe Hoffman: Benny’s referring to Perfection’s comments this week that Bergman should have – and I quote –  thrown the tag team title match at the Lethal Lottery.

Benny Newell: YEAH EXACTLY!  FUCK THAT-

Joe Hoffman: Benny, didn’t you say that night Bergman should forfeit his half back to 24K?

Awkward pause.

Benny Newell: SHUT UP HOFFHOLE!  I CAN BARELY REMEMBER WHAT I SAID TEN MINUTES AGO!  DRINK!

Perfection gives Bergman a withering glare as he walks down to ringside.  Joe does not acknowledge him.  Instead, Bergman goes right over to Steven Solex’s corner to shake hands with his PBR stablemate and give him some encouragement.

Joe Hoffman: PBR versus 24K in this singles match.

Joe comes over the broadcast table and joins the Hall of Fame broadcast duo.

Joe Bergman: Joe.  Benny.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome Joe.  What brings you out here tonight?

Benny Newell: You’re here to fuck with that fuck Perfection right?

Joe Bergman: No Benny.

In the ring, referee Joel Hortega calls for the bell and this match is under way.

Joe Bergman: I’m just out here to support my PBR stablemate Steven Solex.  Nothing more.

Benny Newell: Sure.

Benny might be a little skeptical there.

Joe Hoffman: Joe also had a nice news story published about him earlier in the week by a local St. Louis magazine.

Joe Bergman: Yeah.  The writer traveled with us from Chicago last weekend and basically wrote the story while we drove back to St. Louis.

Benny Newell: I can’t believe you spend all that money buying food for all those fat, sweaty truck drivers.

Joe Bergman: And how would you have spent the money?

Benny Newell: What do you think?  Hookers and blow.

Hoffman audibly sighs.

Joe Bergman: Well Benny.  You and Brian Bare have your way and I have mine.

Benny Newell: Fuck yeah.

Joe Hoffman: The match has started and both men are cautious at the outset.

Perfection and Solex circle around the ring.

Benny Newell: Let’s go DAD!

Lock up.  Perfection with a side headlock but Solex powers out.  Both men trade blows back and forth but Solex gets the upper hand.  Solex shoots Perfection across the ring with an Irish whip and sends him crashing to the mat with a clothesline.  Pulls him back to his feet, into the ropes again, and another clothesline.

Joe Hoffman: Solex starting quick tonight.

Joe Bergman: I thought the first match between these two at the Lethal Lottery was a good, close, hard fought match and I think this one will be the same.

Solex for the cover but Perfection immediately shoves him off.

Both men back up.  Solex again sends Perfection into the ropes – SPINEBUSTER.

Benny Newell: GO DAD GO!

Solex covers.

UNO . . .

DOS- Kickout by Perfection who then gets up and turns towards the broadcast desk to shoot a glare at Joe Bergman.

Joe Bergman: Hopefully, Steven can keep this-

Joe Hoffman: ROLL UP BY SOLEX!

Taking advantage of Perfection’s inattention, Solex moved in, slipped an arm around Perfection’s leg and rolled him up from behind.

UNO . . .

DOS – Perfection kicks out.

Benny Newell: COME ON HORTEGA! COUNT FASTER!

Joe Bergman: I think Solex just showed right there why you can’t just turn your back on him like Perfection just did.

Joe Hoffman: Perfection seems to be trying to send a direct message towards you.

Bergman shrugs it off.

Joe Bergman: I think Perfection really needs to focus his energy on Steven Solex.  That’s who he’s wrestling tonight.  Not me.

Solex presses the attack.  He throws quick jabs at Perfection who continues to zero in his gaze firmly towards Joe Bergman.  Solex whips him into the ropes – waistlock on the return – lift – turn – drives Perfection to the mat.

Joe Hoffman: A thunderous spinebuster by HOW’s #1 Dad!

Benny Newell: YES!

Cover, hook of the leg!

UNO . . .

DOS . . .

TR- . . . KICK OUT!

Joe Bergman: That’s all right.  Steven’s doing just fine against a really good wrestler.

Solex hits the ropes and the crowd anticipates the running shoulder block that’s surely coming.

BY GOSH-

The crowd shouts out the name of the move with Joe Hoffman but, now roiling mad, Perfection steps forward before Solex can connect on the shoulder block and literally punts him as hard as he can in the balls.

Joe Hoffman: Whoa!

The color drains from Solex’s face and he bends over at a ninety-degree angle.

Benny Newell: WHERE’S THE DQ HORTEGA?

Joe Hoffman: That’s about as blatant as you’re going to get.

Solex is a sitting duck as Perfection moves in closer and delivers a huge knee-lift that causes him to stagger back and then fall into the corner.

Joe Hoffman: Vicious knee lift by Perfection there.

Perfection walks over and drives his boot right into the throat area.  Immediately Hortega goes over and admonishes him.

Benny Newell: Again, where’s the fucking DQ?

Finally Hortega starts a five count.  At four point nine, Perfection steps back.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Hortega again goes over and tries to talk to Perfection.  He brushes right by him and pulls Solex to his feet by the hair.  Perfection rams him headfirst into the corner turnbuckle.  Then he drags Solex all the way across the ring and slams him head first into the opposite turnbuckle.   And again – and a third time – four times.

Solex slumps against the top ropes.

Joe Hoffman: I think Solex is in big trouble now.

Benny Newell: He said no rest holds this week and he was going to try to cripple Steven Solex tonight.

Joe Hoffman: Joe?  Any thoughts?

Bergman’s full attention is now on what’s happening in the ring.

Perfection yanks him out of the corner and whips him back across the ring.  Solex slams into the corner turnbuckle.  Perfection follows and drives an elbow into Solex’s face.

Joe Hoffman: Oh wow.

Out on his feet, Solex melts to the mat.  Perfection again makes eye contact with Bergman.

Casually strolling over, Perfection pulls Solex towards the side of the ring where the broadcast table sits.  He draps Solex over the top rope – hooks the arms – spins – and drops him with the Photo Finish.

Joe Hoffman: And thankfully, that should be all.

Hortega’s right there.

UNO . . .

DOS . . .

TR- NO!

Joe Hoffman: WHAT? Perfection pulled Solex up at the last second.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Benny Newell: That son of a bitch!

Perfection pulls him back up.  He snaps him right down and locks in the Witherhold.

Joe Hoffman: Front facelock into a guillotine choke!  That’s got to be it.

Solex frantically taps out.  Hortega immediately calls for the bell.

Benny Newell: Mother of Fuck. I was THIS CLOSE  to betting on Perfection after the 24k segment and of course I had to go change my fucking mind.

Bryan McVay: Winner of the match via submission…..PERRRRRFFFECCCTTTTIOOOOONNN!!

Back in the ring Hortega is yelling at Perfection that the match is over. Solex tapped out. But Perfection doesn’t release the hold.

Joe Hoffman: Oh oh.

We hear a chair move back at the table.

Hortega goes over to Perfection and tries to get him to release the hold.  He doesn’t and if anything, Perfection squeezes even harder.

Joe Hoffman: Perfection said he wanted to send a message to Joe Bergman this week and that’s exactly what he’s doing.

Again, Hortega tells Perfection to break the hold.  Again, Perfection ignores him and now the crowd is really letting him have it.

Joe Hoffman: This is going to get ugly here real fast…….

Benny Newell: As ugly as like betting on Solex at +180 to win the match and he tapes like a bitch ugly.

Hortega goes to physically pull Perfection away from Solex and gets shoved to the mat.

We hear the headphones hit the desk.

Benny Newell: YES!

Quick as a flash, Bergman takes off for the ring and the crowd roars.

Joe Hoffman: BERGMAN’S IN THE RING!

Just as fast, Perfection drops the hold and rolls clear before the Ordinary One can get his hands on him.

Joe Hoffman: And thankfully Perfection bails out.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Their eyes meet as the mastermind behind 24K backs away from the ring.

Joe Hoffman: So Perfection will get the win here tonight.  But I think there was more on his mind tonight than just winning a match.

Bergman goes over and checks on Solex.

Perfection continues to back away with a smirk on his face – even as the crowd berates him from all directions while plastic and paper beer cups rain down on him.

Benny gets up from his chair and rears back to throw his bottle of Jack at Perfection –  but then he thinks better of it and resorts to a different, but more familiar, tactic.  He flips him off.

Benny Newell: FUCK YOU!

Up in Section 214, there’s a rolling chant of FUCK YOU JIMMY! (CLAP CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP) FUCK YOU JIMMY! (CLAP CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP) and a ton of vitriol aimed towards 24K’s home suite in Section 111.

Meanwhile, medical personnel are in the ring to check on Solex.

Joe Hoffman: We’re going to throw it to the back and hopefully we’ll have an update on Solex in a few minutes.

We cut away and we see Blaire Moise backstage inside the office of COO of HOW, Scott Woodson as he prepares for his match against Jiles later tonight.  As he wraps his hands in black tape, Blare approaches Woodson who is flakened by Damien Ryan and John Hitchin.

Blaire Moise: Mister Woodson, Sunday night on HOTv you said that you were going to be building your army of HATE.  Which you reiterated in your match promo this week.  We are now mere minutes from your match with Jiles… so who is the newest member of HATE?

Ripping off the tape from his hand, Woodson tosses the weroll down on his desk as he looks up at Blaire.

Scott Woodson: You looking for a name Blaire?  An exclusive piece of info before I face Jiles?  You know I could keep you all… especially Jiles in suspense.  Keep Jiles and The Bandits wondering if they are going to strike during our match.  But I’m not gonna do that to my old buddy.  No, I promise Jiles a fair fight… whether he deserves it or not.  So without further ado… let me introduce the newest signing… I mean member of HATE.

Pulling out his cell phone he shoots a quick text as we then hear the door to the office, which the camera and Blaire quickly pan over to…

Franklin Woodson: It’s me Woodson!  It was me all along!

In unison almost, Woodson, Hitchin and Ryan all bury their faces in their hands as Franklin was expecting a way better response from the trio.

Scott Woodson: You had ONE job… bring the new guy in when I text you….

???: Sorry Woodson, I thought it would be funny.

Behind a shamed Franklin, walks in the newest member of HATE as Woodson cracks a smile and shakes his head.  Finding more humor now in the joke knowing that it wasn’t from the mind of his son.

Scott Woodson: Ladies and HATEmen… Rick Dickulous!

Rick Dickulous: Wait…there’s ladies here?  Are they moms?  Are they hot?  Are they single?!

Rick wrings his hands together with a crafty smile, looking around the room slowly.  He takes stock of the occupants.

Rick Dickulous: Dude, dude, dude, dude…Blaire.  Blaire, you’re not a mom and single are you?  Because otherwise this became a bigtime sausage party, and I don’t know how comfortable I am with it…

Blaire Moise: Rick, I’m a backstage interviewer, I’m not here to–

Rick Dickulous: Blaire, please….are you a mom?

She shakes her head no.

Rick Dickulous: Well then, I guess it doesn’t matter whether you’re single or not!  I’ve turned a new leaf, Woodson…MOMS OR BUST!

Scott Woodson: This is what I get for putting you and Franklin in the same room.  Do what you want Rick, I just don’t wanna see any harassment papers come across my desk.

Rick nods his head as Blaire just shakes hers slightly in the background.

Scott Woodson: Now Rick will be with Hitchin at ringside tonight… where I promise… they will not get involved in the match.  I’ll give you that much respect Jiles old boy.  I just will not be blindsided with numbers like at March to Glory again.

Damien Ryan: You’re sidelining me from the match tonight?

Scott Woodson: The doctors won’t even clear you to be down at ringside… it’s too much of a liability.

Angered, Ryan tries to think of an argument… but he knows that Woodson’s hands are tied.

Rick Dickulous: Maybe I can help, Damien out, eh?  I brought a gift for the group, but I think Damien will get the most out of it, y’know, not being at ringside and all.  Franklin!  Bring in the pan, bud!

Franklin nods as he scurries out of the room and brings back a pan of delicious baked goods.

Rick Dickulous: Boys…I present to you a staple of Turn-It-Up Express…Brotherhood Brownies.  Now, you guys be careful with these bad boys, I made sure to put extra “Brotherhood” in them, since it’s our first time together, eh?  Just…trust me…

Damien nods his head with a smile as Woodson raises his eyebrow… not wanting to ask any further questions so he can plead ignorance.

Scott Woodson: I just better not find out that you and Franklin cleaned out craft services when we get back.

Rick Diculous: They don’t have Doritos do they?

Damien Ryan: They do.

Rick Dickulous: You’re in trouble then.

Scott Woodson: Ok, time to focus… I need to take out Jiles tonight and put COOL Reality to rest once and for all.  Time to open up the HATE, and let it flow into HOW.

Rick Dickulous: Disturbed!

Scott Woodson: John, Rick… let’s move out.

With that the trio make their way out of Woodson’s office as Damien opens the pan of brownies and smiles before taking a seat down on the couch to watch the battle of COOL Reality.  Just leaving Blaire Moise shaking her head for a moment.

Blaire Moise: Right… well there you have it folks, Rick Dickulous is the long anticipated new member of HATE.. and soon after this commercial break, we’ll see Woodson versus Jiles… the now so called battle of COOL Reality.

Back live and we cut to outside the arena where Steven Solex is being loaded inside an ambulance

Slightly out of breath, Blaire Moise catches Joe Bergman in his car before he leaves to follow the ambulance to the hospital.

Blaire Moise: Joe.  Thanks for taking two seconds here to talk to us.

Joe Bergman: Sure Blaire.

Blaire Moise: Your thoughts on what happened tonight?

Joe Bergman: First off, the most important thing is that Steven is okay.  He’s just going to the hospital as a precaution.

Blaire Moise: Well that’s good.

Joe Bergman: Secondly, I’m really not inclined to comment on what set off the events that happened tonight.

Blaire Moise: You have no comment about what Perfection said before the match and what he did to Steven Solex?

Joe begins to respond but then he stops himself.  Instead, he takes a couple breaths and then finally responds to her with as calm of voice possible- even though drips of sarcasm do slip in.

Joe Bergman: Blaire.  As you know, Laura and I are going to have a child in November and as such, we are taking parenting classes.  One of the things we’ve learned about is how to deal with young children who throw temper tantrums when they don’t get their way.  What Little Jimmy did here tonight-

Blaire Moise: Little Jimmy?

Joe Bergman: Yeah, Little Jimmy.  What Little Jimmy did here tonight was a classic tantrum thrown by a toddler who wants something that he can’t have.

Blaire Moise: Um . . . the HOW Tag Team Title belt?

Joe Bergman: The HOW Tag Team Title belt.   What we’ve learned Blaire is this – the best way to deal with a toddler throwing a tantrum is by trying to de-escalate the situation.  Little Jimmy can throw himself on the ground.  Little Jimmy can kick and scream.  Little Jimmy can hold his breath until his face turns blue.  But I am not going to give Little Jimmy the attention he wants or thinks he’s entitled to.  What he did tonight was wrong and someone needs to stick a pacifier in Little Jimmy’s mouth and go make him sit in time out for a while.

Blaire half tilts her head and gives Joe a quizzical look.

Blaire Moise: I’m not sure how you’re de-escalating the situation.

And then Joe jumps on his rhetorical soapbox.

Joe Bergman: But on a broader point Blaire, as a professional wrestler I find Little Jimmy’s suggestion that I should have deliberately thrown the match at the Lethal Lottery because Joe Bergman with one half of the tag belts interferes with Little Jimmy’s business interests patently insulting, unbecoming of a professional wrestler, and just plain unprofessional behavior.

Blaire tries to jump back in but Joe’s on a roll now.

Joe Bergman: Winning or losing a match isn’t a business transaction.  This is my job- no different from anyone else in this company.  No different from anyone who punches a clock or works a forty hour work week.  My job is to go to the ring and put forth the best effort that I can in order to win matches AND entertain our fans.  And as for winning titles, I’ve been very clear about how I feel about this.  Winning titles matter.   Winning titles is the goal of every professional wrestler and if it’s not, dammit, it should be.

Blaire Moise: So you’re not going to respond directly to Perfection’s attack on Steven Solex or his comments earlier in the week.

Joe shakes his head no.

Joe Bergman: My first and only concern tonight is for Steven Solex- period.  But just between you and me, I can tell you a few places where Little Jimmy can stick his shiny new 24K title belts.

The ambulance doors close and the lights come on.

Joe Bergman: Sorry Blaire.  I’ve got to go.

Blaire Moise: Thanks Joe.  Blaire Moise live outside the Allstate Arena.  Lets head back inside…

From the upper bowl of the Allstate Arena to its labyrinthian backstage, the image flashes to a conspicuously empty hallway. From stage left, the LBI winner, and the Ted half of Red & Ted, Teddy Palmer walks into frame wearing a black hoodie, shorts and runners.

Teddy Palmer: I don’t understand why they’re so pissed off. You can barely even tell there was a fire here…

OSV: There you are!

Looking lost, but scheming at the same time, Grady Patrick strolls under his bowler cap to his client.

Grady Patrick: It’s nearly impossible to find you guys now, without that cubicle. Which one of these broom closets has Best got you set up in now?

Outstretching a hand, Ted squints his eyes and waves his index in the direction of a set of metal doors before settling on one.

Teddy Palmer: I think it’s…that one? Yeah. That one.

Two over from the door Palmer picked, Alexander Redding steams. The undercut under a 59Fifty, we can’t actually see if his scalp is on fire, but he’s McSorely, Marty. The bare torso at least shows no signs of wrapping, or past trauma.

Alexander Redding: Goddamned eGG bastards! You know, I think it’s way past time I dump Dizzy on his dome, for the shit he pulled in our ladder title match, and now this.

Teddy Palmer: Liking the intensity…

Ted offers up the double thumbs up, nodding with a stupid grin on his face. Less happy at the sight, Grady twinges an eyebrow.

Grady Patrick: But, what is it you think they would have done this time?

Alexander Redding: Yolky fuckers could have been the only ones dumb enough to pull this shit.

Not getting an answer, Grady shoots just that look.

Alexander Redding: Fine. It ‘might’ not have been them. Still, some dipshit stole my gear out of my bag. I’m not going out there and blowing out the ass of these jeans in front of God and a live national audience.

Let’s all not try to picture that and move on.

Alexander Redding: I’m gonna jam a hardboiled egg right up their tailpipes.

Teddy Palmer: Eh, Oh! Hold on there buddy. Redirect that energy. There’s plenty of time for you to pickle some eggs. Frappe Fisters first, cool?

A flash of distress washes over the few features of Grady’s face you can still see beneath the brim of the bowler under his bowed head. It might be worth finally mentioning that it’s unusual to see Patrick carrying a briefcase.

Grady Patrick: Alright. Alright Enough of it. Take it, you ungrateful fuck.

Shoving the leatherbound case into Redding’s hand, Alex returns a wary look.

Alexander Redding: What’s in this?

Caught with the excitement of the surprise, Teddy Palmer rips the case to himself, and pops the clasps.

Teddy Palmer: Sh…shorts? Grady, thanks, really, but I kind of got this thing about my calves…

Grady interrupts Ted’s sarcastic remark, snatching the shorts from his mits to toss at Red. Grady shakes his head for ever thinking any good deed goes unpunished.

Grady Patrick: The shorts are his! Beneath that.

Taking the remaining fabric from the case, he let’s it drop to the floor to examine.

Teddy Palmer: Pants! Red and White too. Veeeeeery Canadian. Digging the vibe.

Grady Patrick: Did you say ‘Red and White’?

Ted looks at the gear, then at Grady. Back at the gear, once more to Grady.

Teddy Palmer: Yes. Yes I did.

Grady Patrick: You…ignorant little shit. It’s Pearl and Candied Cardinal.

Alexander Redding: No unnerving smile. No Glass Jaw…

The smaller man, up to his ears in frustration, tries to release the steam in spurts, but can’t turn back the valve once it’s open.

Grady Patrick: Those shorts were twelve years old. The last penny you spent on any of your gear was what? To iron on that patch that Sock gave you? If it was left to you, you’d still be stuck in with those faded glories. But, Ted and I need you to invest a little, get it?

Alexander Redding: I didn’t–

Grady Patrick: And yes! They are matching in colours. I don’t give a damn about your insistence on this whole ‘Two Man Stable’ play. You want to get anywhere near them tag straps or any level of success for that matter, you two need to get on the same page. This is step one.

Pulling his grin out of the pants he’s been staring at for the past ten seconds, Ted needs to hold back the urge to raise his hand, rather doing that brow raise and finger wave one does when beckoning to a waitress.

Grady Patrick: What, Ted?

Teddy Palmer: I’m fairly certain I have the answer, but given your hissy about these colours…what’s step two to this one?

If Redding wanted an unnerving smile to put on his gear, maybe this image of Grady Patrick would do the trick.

Grady Patrick: You go out there and beat those Hollywood Bruvs. Make 24K’s dreams of headlining War Games nothing more than fools’ gold.

Teddy Palmer: Fancier than I would’ve put it, but right nonetheless…

Alexander Redding: We’ll talk about this more later, but a pair of gluefist fuckers need a head kicking.

We cut away as its almost time for our next match….

The show feed cuts to one of the many hallways in the Allstate Arena.

Hey, there’s Blaire Moise. And what do you know? She’s chatting up the Queen of the Ring. Oh, and who’s that coming down the hall behind them?

Is that? 

Why yes it is.

It’s the eGG Bandits. Most of them anyway. Doozer, Zeb, Jiles, and even CBD is in tow. Doozer and Zeb are in street clothes. Jiles is in his ring gear. CBD remains forever unchanged. 

The four Bandits stroll up, and casually interrupt the conversation.

Jiles: Hey, do you know which way the ring is?

Lindsay notices everyone staring at her and Blaire and immediately HATEs her life.

Lindsay Troy: (rolling her eyes) You should get out of here.

Blaire, in no need for the scoop, and in no mood to deal with any of the Bandits, tells Troy she’ll text her later and then exits stage left. 

Doozer: I can’t believe it! Lindsay Troy! Right here, right now. How are ya, mom? We’ve been meaning to speak with you about a possible opening.

Jiles: Whatever you want, Queen. Whatever you want. Over easy. All the time. 

Zeb Martin: How y’all doin’?

Lindsay regards all three men and CBD like she would a Plandemic video crossing her Facebook feed.

Lindsay Troy: Jiles, don’t you have a match against the Drunk Tweeter? Like, next?

Jiles: Cancel it. If it me–

Lindsay Troy: Yeah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I don’t plan on being here much longer. 

Doozer: What, like in High Octane Wrestling?

Lindsay Troy: No. Like, right here, talking to you.

The Dooze drops his head. 

Jiles: Did we mention we have a Dan Ryan?

Lindsay glances over at Cardboard Dan, then slowly returns her glare back to Jiles. If looks could melt T-Shades…

Lindsay Troy: (flatly) No.

Jiles: A shield of eggs?

Lindsay Troy: NO.

Jiles: What if I go out there and beat The Corporate Cocksucker, what then?

Lindsay Troy: Don’t care. Still no.

Jiles: What about…

It’s at this point that the Queen of the Ring is sincerely regretting leaving the safe confines of the Group of Death’s locker room.

Lindsay Troy: Let’s make this easy. NO TO EVERYTHING. EVER. 

Jiles: Bu–

Lindsay Troy: Do you want me to put you in the hospital next to Bobby?  

The Maestro’s head sinks.

That was low.

And it’s also two down.

Zeb Martin: So jus’so I’m clear on this. Is it a ‘no’?

Lindsay Troy: Just put your head down, Mayberry, and join the rest. I don’t need to ruin your life anymore than it already is.

Zeb, smart AND young, does as he told.

Lindsay Troy: Well, this was fun. And by fun I mean, migraine-inducing. Good luck out there, Tool.

Troy walks away, smitten with a job well done.

Jiles: Do you think we should’ve told her we were bowing our heads in reverence because she’s the Egg Que–

Lindsay Troy: (from twenty feet away) I can still hear you, and your match hasn’t happened yet.

Jiles: I’ll wait.

A second or two passes.

Doozer: Guys, she didn’t say never.

Lindsay Troy: (now twenty-five feet away) NEVER!

The Dooze snaps his fingers in defeat. All the while, the Bandits still have their heads bowed in reverence.

The eGG Bandits: Long may we maim.

Cut to commercial.

Back from commercial and we are inside the office of Lee Best…and the GOD of HOW is not alone.

Sitting on the other side of his desk is The Godfather of the Tag Team Division….Mario Maurako.

Both men have their chairs turned towards a large monitor and its apparent they have been watching the show together this whole time.

Lee Best: A lot riding on this next match. Scotty trying to get HATE off the ground and Jiles and the Bandits need a fucking win.

Mario Maurako: Totally agree there.

Lee Best: Problem is you never know what the fuck you are going to get with these two idiots. They can be on the run of a lifetime and then they will shit the bed and end up in fucking Utah or worse……drinking IPA’s in Connecticut.

Mario Maurako: Should we put something on the line here? Keep them invested….say thru War Games?

Lee Best: I’m listening….

The GOD of HOW and The Godfather of the Tag Division turn towards each other and Mario reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a neatly folded piece of paper. He slides it across the table to Lee.

Lee unfolds it, begins reading, and begins to smile.

Lee Best: BOOM. Book it. Love this shit.

Mario Maurako: You want me to go out there and….

Lee Best: Nah fuck that….just turn to this asshole with the camera and announce it.

Smiling, Mario does just that. He turns towards the cameraman and drops some knowledge.

Mario Maurako: Scottywood versus Cancer Jiles will now be a War Games Qualifying match. But there is more to it. They are not only competing for themselves…..but for their whole stable. After this match we will either see The eGG Bandits or HATE qualify for War Games…….and because I am the one giving you this news….you have guessed right……..they not only qualify to be in the draft pool for the War Games match where all the singles titles are on the line…..they qualify to be in the first ever TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP WAR GAMES MATCH!!

Lee Best: Boom motherfuckers. Boom.

With the we cut away to ringside as its time for a War Games Qualifying Match!!

Joe Hoffman: Our next match features two High Octane talents with a complicated history, to say the least. And now, with a War Games qualification for their respective stables on the line, this personal vendetta has BIG future implications!

Benny Newell: One minute they HATE each other. Next they’re Tag Champs, fashioning a rather impressive reign. Then they turn bitter rivals. Now they’re fighting to get their teams qualified for our next PPV. What’s so complicated?

Joe Hoffman: I was really just trying to-

Benny Newell: DRINK!

The lights quickly dim. 

The arena comes to a hush. 

A chill, moves through the air. 

The lights focused on the entrance begin to strobe.

Smoke. All of it, begins clouding the ramp entrance.

“I am the COOL” explodes over the speakers.

Then, without further adieu, The Grand Maestro of COOL floats out from behind the curtain in all of his T-shaded glory. He pauses atop the ramp with only the top half of him visible. He extends his arms extended outward, and welcomes the scattered, yet rabid reaction from the  Octabandits in attendance.

Benny Newell: Is it just me or is he getting a slightly more favorable reaction tonight? I understand he’ shown a different side taking care of his friend, Bobby Dean, lately. Maybe that’s-

Joe Hoffman: If you ask me, he’s still a big dick. At least Lindsay Troy’s smart enough to see that. 

Benny Newell: This man is the patron saint of Bobby Dean! 

Joe Hoffman: Are you drunk already?

Benny Newell: I just miss Bobby.

Joe Hoffman: Yuck, now I need a drink…

The smoke dissipates and the lights flick back to normal. 

Brian Mcvay: Coming to the ring, standing six feet and one and a half inches tall… weighing two hundred and twenty nine pounds… from the summit of Mount COOLYMPUS, and representing the eGG Bandits, he is the Maestro of COOL, Cancer Jiles!

The Maestro trades barbs with a fan or two while making his way down the ramp. Upon reaching the ring, he slides his COOL ass under the bottom and like a nimble cat, ascends the nearest turnbuckle. With a heavy emphasis on looking as obnoxious as possible, he points both thumbs at the COOL tattoo across his abdomen.

Gunter glieben glauten globen

The boos start to flood the Allstate Arena as “Pretty Fly (For A White Guy)” by The Offspring plays over the speakers and Scott Woodson makes his way out onto the stage.  Dressed in his new ring attire, he makes sure his dreads are pulled back and adjusts his collar before heading down the ramp, eyes glued on Jiles.

Joe Hoffman: And as promised earlier, the HATE crew making their way out to the ring to support their boss.

Benny Newell: THEIR boss Joe… make that clear.  His forty-nine percent of HOW isn’t bossing anyone else around.

Behind Woodson we see John Hitchin, who is just shaking his head at Woodson’s theme song… and the newest member of HATE, Rick Dickulous.  Rick is high fiving a few kids and shooting fingers at their hot moms.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, from New York City and weighing in at 275 pounds, accompanied by HATE members John Hitchin and Rick Dickulous, he is the COO of HOW… SCOTT WOODSOOOOOON!!!!!

Woodson and crew circle the ring as Hitchin and Dickulous stop at the announce table while Woodson climbs the steel steps and makes his way into the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Well, it appears we’ll have the pleasure of being joined by two members of HATE at ringside.

Benny Newell: I’m gonna need a new bottle.

John Hitchin and Rick both take a seat at the commentary table next to Benny. Cancer Jiles, keeping one eye on Woodson, scuffles around the ring so he can keep tabs on the new commentary team as well. He only breaks focus to glance over his shoulder toward the entrance ramp for a hot second.

Joe Hoffman: Looks like someone’s wondering where his “friends” are…

Benny Newell: Probably at the hospital with poor, sweet Bobby.

Joe Hoffman: Just drink.

DING

The bell ring kicks off the action. Scott Woodson quickly takes advantage of a distracted Cancer Jiles with a tackle to bring him down to the mat.

Joe Hoffman: Mr. Woodson taking down Jiles right off. Peppering the Egg Bandit with lefts and rights early!

Scott stands up, grabbing Jiles by his golden mane and lifting him to his feet. On his way up, Jiles sends an elbow into Woodson’s gut. The shot doubles HOW’s COO over. Cancer sends a knee up to meet Woodson’s face.

Benny Newell: That knee strike just made MY face hurt! DRINK!

The shot straightens Woodson up. He stumbles back, then shakes the ringing out of his ears. Jiles connects a knife edge chop. The smack causes the crowd to “OOOHHHHHHH” as Jiles swings for another-

Joe Hoffman: Woodson drops down on all fours to duck under the second chop and spins into a leg sweep to take Jiles down!

Rick Dickulous: That’s it, Woodson! You got this!

Scott tries to jump back on the downed bandit, but Jiles quickly lifts both feet and kicks Woodson in the chest to send him back into the ropes. Jiles pops up ninja-style, only to be taken out by a flying elbow from Woodson, using his momentum off the ropes.

Joe Hoffman: Seems like the COO has been a step faster than his opponent here early.

Woodson connects an elbow drop. He pops up and drops another. Then another.

Benny Newell: Elbow drops should be banned! DRINK!

Scott goes for a quick pin.

ONE…

A quick shoulder thrust up off the mat stops the count early.

Joe Hoffman: Even I’d call that a bit optimistic.

The two pop up simultaneously and charge at each other. Scott reaches out to grab Jiles, but Cancer dives down last second into a baseball slide through Woodson’s legs. Jiles turns before Woodson can face him and sends a diving shoulder into the back of Scott’s knees.

Joe Hoffman: A snappy counter attack from Jiles sends Woodson on his knees.

Jiles connects with a low, spinning hook kick to Woodson’s face. Scott’s face goes blank at impact, then he flops onto his back in the middle of the ring. Jiles runs for the ropes, jumps with both feet onto the middle ropes-

Benny Newell: Well executed moonsault by Ji-

Joe Hoffman: Woodson gets his knees up just in time!

Rick Dickulous: That’s what I’m talking about! My man out there knows Cancer’s every move like the back of his hand!

Jiles rolls around the mat, clenching his stomach. He eventually finds a corner and sits against the lowest turnbuckle. Woodson charges, landing a knee to Jiles’ face. He grabs Cancer by his golden locks and lifts him up to his feet.

Joe Hoffman: Jiles, looking vulnerable, shows good instinct grabbing Woodson, twisting, and thrusting him into the turnbuckles.

Jiles delivers a pair of knife edge chops, the last one sending Woodson off his feet and down sitting, slumped against the bottom turnbuckle. Cancer takes a step back and placates to the crowd with puckered lips.

Benny Newell: Uh oh, looks like the COO might take a mouthful of yolk to the face if he’s not careful!

Jiles returns to Woodson and bends down to meet him face to face. Rick Dickulous jolts out of his seat, grabbing something on his way, and sprints toward the corner-

Benny Newell: HERE COMES THE-

Just a blink of an eye before Jiles spits, Dickulous tosses the item to Scott, who throws them over his eyes just in time. The yellow mist covers Woodson’s face, but Scott doesn’t flinch.

Joe Hoffman: Oh my! Scott Woodson just countered Cancer’s signature spray WITH THE T-SHADES!

The self-proclaimed Emperor of the Undercard turns to stone. His jaw nearly falls to the mat. His eyes barely stay in their sockets.

Scott Woodson, with a sinister smile, slowly stands in front of his frozen adversary. He removes Cancer’s T-shades from his face, carelessly tossing them to the outside, as Rick takes his seat back at the announce table.

Rick Dickulous: Mr. Woodson was ready for that spot since he saw the booking. What a… visionary, am I right?

Joe Hoffman: I both love and hate you.

Benny Newell: DRINK!

Jiles, too preoccupied watching his shades hit the floor ringside, receives a strong right hand from Woodson. HOW’s COO follows it with a left to the midsection, sending Jiles back a few steps to the middle of the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Two strong strikes from Scott Woodson! Looks like he woke Jiles up.

Cancer shakes his head, refocused on Woodson, and charges. He swings, Woodson ducks under and uses Jiles’ momentum to get him up into a fireman’s carry.

Joe Hoffman: Looks like this could be it for Mr. Cool! It’s time for GAME! MIS! 

Benny Newell: I really wanted to see him win this one for, Bob, too…

Joe Hoffman: WHAT THE?!? Jiles, still suspended in air, connecting with elbows straight to the side of Woodson’s head.

Scott Woodson takes a third elbow to the head and

drops Jiles behind him while falling to his knees. Cancer rushes tpears Joel Hortega, frantically pointing toward Rick Dickulous and John Hitchin on the outside. 

Joe Hoffman: Seems like Hortega is sending a warning to our special guests.

Woodson shakes the recent blows off, stands, and turns to face his opponent.

CRUNCH

Benny Newell: OOHHHHHHH, vicious low blow courtesy of Cancer Jiles!

Joe Hoffman: He should be disqualified! Wait, what’s he doing now? Jiles just slid out of the ring! To grab his sunglasses. His SUNGLASSES?

Cancer snaps his head toward Hoffman. He points at Joe and yells,

Cancer Jiles: T-SHADES!

Just as Jiles lifts the shades to inspect the lenses for any scratches, he’s catapulted forward by two feet with a Woodson behind them after baseball sliding out of the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Scott Woodson taking advantage of his distracted opponent, sending Cancer Jiles crashing into the guard rails

Woodson grabs Cancer by the back of the head and drags him back to the ring. He tosses him in and slides after.

Benny Newell: Unusual move by Mr. Woodson here. He usually thrives outside the ring!

With Jiles still on the mat, Scott approaches him and grabs his legs. He holds each leg up under each arm and shouts,

Scott Woodson: FUCK BOSTON!

The COO twists Jiles over, locking him into his version of the Boston Crab…

Joe Hoffman: New York Crab from Scott Woodson! This could be over!

Cancer Jiles writhes in pain, turning beet red as Woodson leans back and increases the pressure of the hold. Before even getting checked, The COOLympian furiously shakes his head in anticipation of being asked about tapping.

He begins to crawl, inch by inch, closer to the ropes.

Woodson shakes his head in disbelief.

With one last gasp, Jiles thrusts forward and stretches his right arm nearly out of its socket.

Benny Newell: Holy shit, Cancer just grabbed the rope! I can’t believe he got to the ropes!

Scott Woodson, absolutely furious, runs up to Hortega giving him an earful like an angry MLB manager. After covering Joel with spit, he turns back to his opponent and-

SMACK!

Benny Newell: TERMINAL CANCER! TERMINAL CANCER’

Joe Hoffman: Of course.

Hitchin stands, but Rick Dickulous quickly grabs his shoulder and pulls him back down. Jiles goes for the pin!

ONE…

…

TWO…

…

THREE!

Benny Newell: I can’t believe it! Jiles just picked up a HUGE victory for not only himself, but the entire Egg Bandit clan! They lovable losers have qualified for War Games!

As the bell rings, Dickulous gives a nod to Hitchin and they jump up from the announce table, ready to pounce on Jiles, but he rolls out just in time and high tails it up the ramp.  You can slightly hear him yelling at Doozer in the back for not learning his lesson.

Joe Hoffman: HATE wanting to get a piece of Jiles after the match… but Jiles was one step ahead….

WHACK!!!!

Benny Newell: Who the fuck is that?!?

Someone has jumped the crowd barricade and drilled Jiles across the back with a steel, whose whole body arches in pain as he tries to turn around to see his assailant.  But as he does, the man drops the steel chair and starts in with a bevy of body shots before going upstairs with a hard right that Jiles does his best to try and block.

Joe Hoffman: That is Hughie Freeman!  We saw his video last week.

Benny Newell: The caravan fucker!

Freeman lands a few more body shots on the disoriented Jiles as he leads him back down the ramp and throws him into the ring where the other three members of HATE are waiting.

Scott Woodson: I knew you’d see this coming Jiles… but I’m surprised you thought I would show you my entire hand before the match.

Hitchin and Rickulous pick Jiles up off the mat and hold his arms back as Freeman uses Jiles’ abs as a punch bag, left and right strikes directly into his COOL tattoo.

Scott Woodson: I see you have met the newer newest member of HATE… Hugie Freeman.  An Irishman with a love for fighting.  Now… FINISH HIM!

Freeman nods his head as he cocks his right hand back and plants a devastating punch to the jaw of Jiles that crumples him to the ground as Dickulous and Hitchin let him go.

Scott Woodson: I told you Jiles… I told everyone I was building an army.  An army that this time won’t be doomed from the start.  An army that I am going to build my way.  An army I promise you will all HATE when I’m done.

Joe Hoffman: When he is done?  Who else is Woodson bringing in?

Benny Newell: More washed up HATE fuckers?  Who cares.

Hitchin and Freeman pick Jiles back up off the mat and hand him to Dickulous who sets Jiles up for his Misery Whip…

Joe Hoffman: Here comes Doozer and Zeb Martin!

Benny Newell: About fucking time!

Dickulous throws Jiles into the corner where Woodson drives his forearm into Jiles’ throat and ties his right arm up in the ropes.  Doozer and Martin storm the ring as a brawl ensues between the two groups, but the numbers game is in HATE’s favor and Doozer and Zeb Martin are beaten down and thrown out from the ring as Woodson turns his attention back to Jiles.

Scott Woodson: I think we’re missing a Bandit though Jiles… aren’t we?  Bring out the fat one!

Up on the stage we see nurse Greg start to push out the gurney that the comatose Bobby Dean is laying on.

Joe Hoffman: What is this now!  He’s in a damn coma Woodson!

Woodson slaps Jiles across the face

Scott Woodson: Wake up Jiles!  I’d HATE for you to miss this… because this… this will be all your fault!

Nurse Greg reaches ringside with the gurney as the crowd starts to get a bit nervous as to what the COO has planned for Bobby Dean.

Scott Woodson: This will be all your fault Jiles… but I am doing you a favor.  A favor in ridding you of this leach.  You’ll HATE me now… but later you will see I was right….

Hitchin starts tapping Woodson on his shoulder as the crowd explodes in a cheer that nearly blows the roof off the Allstate Arena.

Joe Hoffman: BOBBY DEAN IS AWAKE!!!!!

Benny Newell: Holy balls of fuck!

Suddenly sitting straight up, Bobby slowly turns his head and stares a hole through Woodson with all the rage in the world. He lays back down and rolls over into the ring. Hitchin is first to attack as Dean levels him with a clothesline. The next is Dickulous who goes for a big boot as Dean takes him down with a leg sweep that sends Rick rolling out of the ring.  Then Freeman goes for a big right jab but Dean ducks that and throws Freeman over his head with a big back body drop leaving no one between Dean and Woodson.

Joe Hoffman: Dean has just rolled through three members of HATE!

Benny Newell: Now Woodson is gonna get his!

Woodson smiles as he quickly drops to the mat and rolls out of the ring as Doozer and Zeb return to the ring.  They quickly release Jiles from the ropes and roll him onto Bobby’s gurney.

Woodson regroups his army as they start to make their way back up the entrance ramp, Woodson smiling and nodding his head while Bobby leans over the ropes yelling back, wanting to rip Woodson’s head off.

Joe Hoffman: Shots fired by both sides Benny… but this I feel is far from over.

Benny Newell: No shit, Bobby Dean is back and he’s out for blood.

Joe Hoffman: And HATE, their army now two members larger.. and Woodson may not be done growing.

Benny Newell: THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!

We cut to commercial as the crowd is still buzzing over what they just saw…

WAR GAMES MAIN EVENT FOR THE WORLD, ICON & LSD CHAMPIONSHIPS
Captain Michael Lee Best©, Cecilworth Farthington©, Dan Ryan, ?? vs. Maximillian Kael Best©, ??, ??, ??

WAR GAMES MATCH FOR THE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
The eGG Bandits vs. ?? vs. ?? vs Joe Bergman and Andy Murray©

WAR GAMES MAIN EVENT DRAFT POOL QUALIFIERS
Doozer, Cancer Jiles, Zeb Martin, Bobby Dean, Lucian Santangel, Perfection, Joe Bergman© and Andy Murray©

Back live and there is no time wasted as its time for another War Games Qualifying match……

“Well you go to hell!”

The opening riff of “Fucking in the Bushes” by Oasis begins to blare over the speaker system as out from the backstage area march Kendrix and Mikey Unlikely to a less than welcome ovation from the Chicago faithful. The Bruvs stand atop the ramp and play the proper homage to the 24K Box over in Section 111.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back folks and boy have the stakes been raised once again here tonight. We learned during the break that not only is this remaining a qualifying match for the War Games Main Event where all the singles titles are on the line…..but the winning team will automatically earn a spot in the newly announced War Games Match for the Tag Team Championships.

Benny Newell: There’s something special to these Bruvs that I can respect. Last time I performed a glue fist I was politely asked to leave the establishment…

Joe Hoffman: You’d have to say momentum is in their favour, they weren’t the bookies favourites last week against the Group of Death’s Dan Ryan and Lindsay Troy and yet left Refueled with a massive win, a quick recovery from their tag title loss.

A spotlight falls on the stage. The first thing we see is a full on merchandise shill as Kendrix appears backing up with the newest Hollywood Bruv’s t-shirt, available right now and celebrates their totally legitimate and clean win over GoD. With both hands held aloft he points to the sky two bouts of brilliant white pyro rip across the stage. Taking his time, Kendrix slowly turns around with a seductive smirk as he is joined by his fellow Hollywood Bruv, Mikey Unlikely.

Bryan McVay: The following match is a WAR GAMES QUALIFIER! Introducing first, at a combined weight of 448 pounds, THE HOLLYWOOD BRUVS, MIIIIIIKEY UNLIIIIKELY AND JEEEESSE KEEEENDRIX!

Joe Hoffman: A real swagger to The Bruvs tonight.

Benny Newell: They beat the Group of Death Hoffhole, I’m surprised they haven’t had a special commemorative banner made and associated fine china.

The two slowly make their way down to the ring ignoring the fans for the most part as they exchange looks of admiration with each other. They enter and pose before moving to their corner to prepare for the match as their music fades away, replaced with “Love Spreads” by the Stone Roses, heralding the arrival of Alex Redding to the stage.

Joe Hoffman: Alex Redding carved up his LBI group but has hit a rough patch since the tournament and his loss to his own tag team partner in the semi-finals. We haven’t seen him in competition since his cage match at March to Glory and you know he’ll be eager to prove himself here tonight.

Benny Newell: IT’S A TWO MAN STABLE!

Redding keeps his place on the stage, not breaking eye contact with The Bruvs who are jawing away at half of Red and Ted from their position within the ring. “Love Spreads” fades away and is replaced by “Welcome to the Party” by Diplo and many other people. Palmer walks out, bopping his head to his own jam, slapping Redding on the back as they begin to make their way to the ring.

Joe Hoffman: I have been passed a note that informs me we should celebrate the new colour scheme of Red and Ted’s wrestling attire. It’s pearl and candied cardinal!

Benny Newell: It’s WHAT?

Joe Hoffman slides the note over to his Hall of Fame announce team partner.

Benny Newell: Colour coordination is an important part of any two man stable.

Red and Ted don’t appear to pay much mind to the support from the Chicago faithful, keeping their eyes fully locked on The Bruvs as they walk down to the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Grady Patrick is conspicuous by his absence here tonight.

Benny Newell: I think he got stuffed in one of the moving boxes.

Bryan McVay: And their opponents, weighing in tonight at a combined four hundred and fifty four pounds… Alexander Redding and Teddy Alexander… RED AND TED.

Palmer and Redding rush into the ring, causing The Bruvs to back up into their corner. Mikey and Kendrix quickly huddle into a corner conference to discuss who will go first, looking back to Redding and Palmer, sizing them up a few times over. Palmer nods to Redding, who takes his place in the corner, feeling confident in the man who defeated him in the LBI semi-finals. After a gluefist that lasts upwards of thirty seconds, Mikey steps out of the ring and holds onto the tag rope. Referee Joel Hortega signals for the bell.

Ding Ding Ding

Joe Hoffman: It looks like the LBI winner and Kendrix are going to start this one off. You have to expect after all the jabs from The Bruvs earlier in the week about Red and Ted being MIA, Palmer will be looking to make The Bruvs regret what they wished for.

Benny Newell: I forgot Alexander Redding was employed, so Kendrix and Mikey are hardly wrong.

Palmer rushes towards Kendrix with purpose, setting the tone of the bout by drilling the 24K member with a stiff European Uppercut across the jaw. Kendrix rubs away at his jaw for a few seconds and responds by slapping Palmer right in the arm. Palmer winces and instinctively clutches his arm as he backs away from Kendrix. Knowing he’s on to a good thing, JFK snaps in and tries to hook the arm of Palmer but gets an elbow to the skull for his troubles. Kendrix throws a stiff boot to the gut of Teddy and as Teddy doubles over, slams a double axe handled right into his back. This is enough for Teddy to lose some stability and fall down to one knee. The Bruv backs away from Palmer, creating some space but doesn’t present any recovery time, rushing a knee straight into the face of Teddy Palmer.

Joe Hoffman: It seems that Kendrix is looking to send a message that The Bruvs aren’t a tag team to be overlooked and dismissed.

Benny Newell: These men have been champions! They have climbed the top of the HOW mountain. When Teddy Palmer tried to win the Tag Team Titles he just fell down in a corner with some zip ties.

Kendrix’s cocky smirk creeps across his face as he watches Palmer try and gut out a recovery from the series of blows from The Bruv. Knowing he can’t give the LBI winner space to breathe, he rushes over for a second knee. This one is less successful than the first as Palmer catches him mid-flow, using the momentum to his advantage and lifts Kendrix up and over with a T-Bone suplex. Palmer looks down at Kendrix, clutching his bad arm and wincing in pain.

Joe Hoffman: Benny, you’ve been in Cecilworth’s cross armbreaker…

Benny Newell: DRINK!

The Hall of Famer commentator appears that he would rather not discuss his broken arm, as Palmer delivers a series of boots to the skull of Kendrix. Satisfied that he’s delivered some damage, he walks over to his partner and tags Alex Redding into the ring. Redding looks at his two manned stabled pal, gesturing to the arm, Palmer assures him that he’s fine as he steps on to the apron. The small moment of consideration for his pal is a regrettable moment as by the time he has spun around to face Kendrix, his eye is raked up something fierce. Joe Hortega admonishes Kendrix and Kendrix responds by yelling that he doesn’t speak Spanish like a British holiday maker abroad in the Costa Del Sol. Kendrix follows up the eye rake by smacking his boot into the jaw of Redding with a superkick and quickly drops down for the cover.

UNO!

DOS!

NOS!

Redding is fresh enough that he can kick out with relative ease, much to the frustration of Kendrix. Kendrix turns to Hortega, yelling “THAT WAS THREE, POR FAVOR MI AMIGO” which is met with the shruggiest of shrugs from the official.

Joe Hoffman: Kendrix was fast to react to the distracted Redding but it wasn’t enough to put him away.

Benny Newell: Compassion is such an ugly emotion. Best not to have friends.

Joe Hoffman: I appreciate you too.

Frustrated by his interactions with Hortega, Kendrix walks over to Mikey and they perform an incredibly correct and official gluefist tag. Kendrix yells “YOU TRY SPEAKING TO HIM!” gesturing to Hortega as Mikey steps into the ring. Mikey walks over to Redding and locks him in a tight headlock, inciting a rather negative response from the crowd. He wrenches it in a few times for good measure. Redding starts to shift uncomfortably as Mikey shows no signs of letting go. Breathing in deep and hoping it won’t do a number on his ribs, Redding hugs the side of Mikey, lifting him up from the group. Mikey kicks his feet in the air, as Redding struggles with Mikey’s dead weight. He digs deep with his internal constitution and lifts Unlikely for a second time, successfully hoisting him to the pivot point on the second time around and sending both men crashing into the mat with a back suplex. Mikey breaks the hold on Redding’s neck.

Joe Hoffman: It looked like Mikey was very happy to keep that headlock locked in tight for days if he could but Redding dug deep and shifted the momentum.

Benny Newell: For a chance at War Games, people would kill their own grandmother. I know I would if I was in their shoes.

Joe Hoffman: You’d kill for a chance to stand in the ring with the World Champion again?

Benny Newell: It was a fluke! I could take him!

Redding rolls away from the situation as he studies Mikey’s next move. Mikey slowly leans up from a seated position and reaches for the ropes to pull himself back up. Redding rolls over to the ropes and kicks Mikey’s hands away, leaving the former HOW Tag Champion resting on his knees. Redding drills a few elbows to the temple of Mikey and then takes a few steps back. Redding yells “MEH! SHADDUP” at the top of his voice, causing intense confusion from Joel Hortega who doesn’t understand why the manbun man is yelling. He spins around like a beautiful ballerina doing a fine pivot and smacks Mr. Mikey Money himself across the jaw with a beautiful looking discus lariat.

Benny Newell: Did falling off a cage give that idiot tourettes?

Joe Hoffman: According to my notes, he calls that lariat the “Meh, shaddup”.

Benny Newell: What’s the matter with him? He’s got no respect.

Joe Hoffman: HEY! We have a match to focus on.

Redding rolls over and hooks the leg.

UNO!

DOS!

KNEE TO THE SKULL!

Kendrix steps into the ring, putting all of his weight in his knees and dropping them into the back of the head of Redding to break up the pin. Kendrix walks away, giving a cheeky wee wave to Palmer who is still standing on the apron. A furious Palmer decides he wants part of the action and attempts to jump into the ring himself but Joel Hortega stands in his way, blocking access to Palmer. Mikey and Redding both try to right themselves and get back into the action.

Joe Hoffman: They say that teamwork makes the dream work and we just saw that from The Hollywood Bruvs. If you could draft both these men to a War Games team as a unit, you have to admit they would be a powerful force.

Benny Newell: That’s the power of a TAG TEAM, no of this “oh we’re a two man stable but also a tag team but also we colour coordinate” nonsense. That’s just ego and will cost these two, I swear. You can’t be everything to everybody!

Joe Hoffman: You say that but it would be hard to argue it didn’t work for them in January and February…

Benny Newell: And how has that worked out since? They’re in the ring with a freight train of a team!

Redding is the first to climb back to his feet and decides to take his frustration out on Mikey Unlikely by slapping him right across the jaw. The Hollywood A-Lister doesn’t take very kindly to this, clearly worried about his reputation as the host of Sports: Entertainment Tonight! and quickly slips behind Redding in a fit of rage at the slap and drills Redding down with a back suplex of his own. Mikey thumbs his nose at a frustrated Palmer on the apron. Palmer again considers leaping into the ring but this time calms himself down enough to not fall for the trap. Mikey turns his attention back to the grounded Redding and grabs him by the boot, Redding is quick to react, yanking Unlikely in and launching him back to his corner from the force of some powerful thighs.

Joe Hoffman: Great ring awareness by Redding, he was down but he knew he could still control the situation.

Benny Newell: I always show my greatest power laying flat on my back.

Redding turns his attention back to his partner, Teddy Palmer and begins to move towards his tag corner. With his focus on the tag, Palmer does not spot that Kendrix has leaped off his side of the apron and rushed over to Palmer. As Palmer reaches out for the tag from Teddy, he suddenly finds himself yanked by his bad arm, losing balance he crashes down to the floor below, his jaw colliding with the side of the ring apron. Kendrix tosses a few boots in for good measure as Hortega admonishes him once more. “UNO CERVEZA MI AMIGO!” is the response from The Bruv as he walks back to his corner. Palmer in a slightly dazed state puts together what just happened and turns his attention back to Mikey, willing to take on the fight himself. Launching himself at Unlikely, he drills a series of stiff elbows that knock him into the ring ropes. He grabs Mikey by the arm but does not spot Kendrix slapping his tag partner gently in the back.

Joe Hoffman: A blind tag by The Bruvs, I don’t think Alex Redding spotted it.

Benny Newell: I’m just in awe at Kendrix’s perfect Spanish. I need to get lessons off that guy.

Mikey flows off the ropes and Redding follows behind, as Unlikely rebounds, Redding sweeps him down to the group with an STO. He looks to follow up on the attack but is instead swung around by Kendrix grabbing him at the shoulder. Kendrix jumps up, holds Redding around the neck drilling both knees into his face with a double knee face breaker.

Joe Hoffman: He calls that The Bellend!

Benny Newell: The scourge of the wrestling ring and the strip joints from everything that I’ve been told.

Kendrix quickly drops down for the cover and Hortega has no option but to count.

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

Wait, Palmer!

Ding ding ding

But too late. Palmer had managed to make it to the ring but not in enough time to break the pin. “Fucking in the Bushes” begins to play over the speaker system as a gutted Palmer looks incredibly frustrated that he didn’t make it in time for his partner.

Joe Hoffman: You’d have to call this one another upset! The Bruvs just defeated two men with powerful LBI performances, one of them managed to win it all but here, tonight, they have fallen short of their chance to make it to War Games.

Benny Newell: It’s not an upset, it’s the power of stardom!

Brian McVay: Here are your winners, now qualified for the War Games Tag Team Championship Match and the War Games Main Event Draft Pool… THE HOLLYWOOD BRUVS!

Kendrix grabs his partner and helps him up to his feet as Hortega raises their hands high in the air. The camera fades out of the scene with quite possibly the world’s longest celebratory gluefist.

WAR GAMES MAIN EVENT FOR THE WORLD, ICON & LSD CHAMPIONSHIPS
Captain Michael Lee Best©, Cecilworth Farthington©, Dan Ryan, ?? vs. Maximillian Kael Best©, ??, ??, ??

WAR GAMES MATCH FOR THE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
The eGG Bandits vs. The Hollywood Bruvs vs. ?? vs Joe Bergman and Andy Murray©

WAR GAMES MAIN EVENT DRAFT POOL QUALIFIERS
Mikey Unlikely, Jessie Kendrix, Doozer, Cancer Jiles, Zeb Martin, Bobby Dean, Lucian Santangel, Perfection, Joe Bergman© and Andy Murray©

Back live and we cut to the backstage area where there’s a rather pitiful party scene, if it would even be declared as such. We see two small helium balloons attached to some string bopping up and down, one proclaims “HAPPY 80TH GRANDMA” and the other “TO A VERY SPECIAL GRADUATE”. Standing directly in the middle of these two balloons stands the HOW World Heavyweight Champion, Cecilworth M! J Farthington. Rather than looking particularly jovial at the celebration he appears to have tried to throw himself, he instead looks rather irritated instead.

Farthington has the World Championship wrapped tightly around his waist and this is accessorised with a black t-shirt that proclaims the champ as  “HOW’S LONGEST BEST BOY”. Rather than the clean cut smuggins that we normally witness when we spend quality time with the champ, we see the sign of stubble and baggy eyes.

Cecilworth Farthington: Today should be the happiest day of my career. Today marks the day I become the LONGEST reigning World Champion in the history of High Octane Wrestling. I have now done it all… well… almost all. I haven’t been beaten in a year. At the end of 2019 I was SEVENTY FIVE PERCENT of the company’s champions by myself. I became the longest reigning ICON Champion in history. Then finally, in my first ever World Title reign ever, I have smashed the record books once more. I should be celebrating, this should be a party. A party needs guests however and that’s where things have become problematic.

Farthington rubs his bestubbled chin, allowing his thoughts to slowly filter through his skull noggin.

Cecilworth Farthington: Tonight I should be surrounded by my friends in the Group of Death and yet instead, Lindsay Troy and Dan Ryan are out looking for the blood of 24K in what will be the first ever Twitter fuelled murder. Mike Best is preoccupied by the spooky mask pervert who keeps doing the sneakiest of attacks on our beautiful ICON lad and has decided to take a well deserved night off. Max Kael has to focus on how to take Scott Stevens off a pole. Lee Best’s draft pick has certainly caused a little bit of chaos, I’m man enough to admit it. Tensions are just a tad higher than they should be, trust just a smidge lower. I didn’t think it appropriate to sound the horn for a shindig.

The GRANDMA balloon floats too high to the ceiling and makes contact with the bright light overhead, causing an instant popping. The crack of the exploding balloon doesn’t even elicit a reaction from the champion, the camera detecting for the first time how bloodshot his eyes are.

Cecilworth Farthington: I never had a big party when I smashed the ICON reign record. I didn’t bring a cake to the show when I went undefeated for a year after crushing the stupid hopes and dreams of Teddy Palmer in front of those pathetic paupers in Rome. Today was going to be the day. The day I could finally allow myself to celebrate. The toilet murders, the bell murders, the broken arms, those moments of blood and sacrifice were bringing me to tonight. Yet, there was this nagging thought that sat at the back of my skull. It kept telling me that tonight wasn’t the night. It turns out it was right, and I have you to thank for that Papa Lee.

Cecilworth pulls out a pair of scissors and cuts the string that’s keeping the second balloon in place.

Cecilworth Farthington: Leecifer, you bald headed stupid son of a god damn bitch. You just did the one thing you really not to have oughtta. You reminded me through putting that gleaming skull of yours front and centre from the second year in a row that there is still a missing piece of the puzzle. See, this year, I walked into the main events of Rumble at the Rock, Iconic and March to Glory, leaving with my hand held high and the World Championship around my waist. I have won almost every trademark HOW match. I just won the LBI. Yet… one moment, one match, one record… it remains outstanding. Winning War Games. It should have happened last year but John Sektor betrayed me… again. The party isn’t ready quite yet, there is still more work to do. Win War Games. Win every single pay per view main event for an entire year. Create an unbeatable legacy, truly establish myself as the face of the Refueled era. I think you for reminding me there is still work to be done.

The second balloon starts to gently float away out of the view of the camera.

Cecilworth Farthington: You may think drafting Max was some sort of master manipulation, a display of ultimate power and the toughest of love. You were so wrapped up in scoring a small victory over your son that you missed the fucking forest. Let me spell it out – all you’ve done is sign the paperwork of the execution of General Lee’s Shitty Dead Team. The eMpire, the Group of Death, we are above petty power squabbles and grabs for the gold. Max Kael has already done it all, he has nothing left to prove, certainly not to you. Do you really think he’s going to enter that cage and fly the Lee Best Flag on high because you put on a hat two sizes too large for your eggy skull? He’s my brother. He’s Mike’s brother. All you’ve done is sabotage the hopes and dreams of any other pick you make. You’ve made the match five on three. Group of Death against Lee’s Lambs.

The champion looks directly down the lens of the camera, a completely blank expression on his face.

Cecilworth Farthington: The slaughter will be on your hands.

We cut away as the World Champion stares intently into the camera.

We cut outside where we see several North Kaelrean soldiers lined up outside of the arena, each of them brandishing a spear, each roughly seven foot long. A lime green used Prius pulls up as the guards snap to attention. The backseat door pops open as Little Lady Sutler Kael, otherwise known as .. do you remember her name?

Do you?

It’s working.

Little Lady Sutler Kael pops out of the back seat of the Prius dressed in her own little mini-uniform with the LSD Championship Title over her shoulder, a broad smile on her face. Slithering out behind her with an annoyed look on his face was none other then #1 Ranked High Octane Wrestling Talent and LSD Champion, Maximillian Wilhelm Kael. Dressed in a sharp looking black and red North Kaelrean uniform Max glares up at the arena with a murderous glowing blue eye..

Brian Bare: Max Kael!

The LSD Champions head snaps to the side as he protectively pulls Little Lady Sutler Kael in front of himself. Brian Bare appears with a microphone as the North Kaelrean guards snap into a defensive posture, their spears lowered toward the encroaching High Octane reporter.

Max Kael: Who are you!? Announce yourself! STAY BACK! You look filthy!

Brian Bare’s face lights up with surprise as the guards thrust the sharp ends of their spears at him, each perilously close to his face.

Brian Bare: Woah! Woah! It’s me, Brian Bare, I work for your dad, I’ve interviewed you in the past?

Max Kael: I’ve been in High Octane Wrestling basically forever and I’ve never heard of any Brian Bare. The only Brian I know is some idiot named Hollywood who has nothing to do with Hollywood! You must be new! What, rookie, are you looking to try to score a big interview or something!? You working for that idiot Jack Dawson!?

Max’s expression is cross with accusation as he points a leather gloved talon in Brian’s direction.

Brian Bare: Max.. I’ve.. I’ve literally been here longer than you..

Max Kael: Lies! I’m the Number One Ranked Talent in High Octane Wrestling, I know the difference between right and wrong, okay? You don’t get to be like me and not know that, right? Hey, let me ask you a question, out of the two of us who has the LSD Championship, a High Octane Wrestling Ultra Hall of Fame ring, has been chosen as the Number One pick for their respective War Games team in 2020 and is basically going to break every LSD Championship Record worth having?

Bare stares at Max hesitantly before shrugging.

Brian Bare: Yo-

Max Kael: MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Max shrieks the words at Brian Bare as the berated man looks down at his feet. For his part Max’s face has become tomato red as he hisses his breath between clenched teeth. Little Lady Sutler Kael giggles and wanders off toward the arena as Max’s blue eye zeroes in on Brian Bares forehead.

Brian Bare: ..alright, I’m sor-

Max Kael: MEEEEEEEE-oh wait, were you apologizing?

Brian Bare: Ye-

Max Kael: MEEEEEEEEE!

Another awkward silence falls on the two of them as Bare just decides the better decision is to remain quiet in the audience of a clearly very petulant and irritable Max Kael.

Max Kael: Good. Now I’ve got to walk into that arena and slap around Scott Stevens in a Pole Match. A Pole Match in the year of our Lord, 2020. Excuse me if I’m a little irritable. Hey, you want a story? Next week I’ll reveal the next big winner in the LSD Raffle because I’m going to arrogantly walk out to that ring, I’m going to win this insane match with no problem and I am, in no way, setting myself up for any kind of classic narrative fall. You know why?

Max glares at Brian Bare who looks up at Max careful.

Max Kael: I said, you know why?

Brian Bare:..why?

Max Kael: Great question! The reason I can’t possibly be in a narrative where my peacocking and dickheadry gets the better of me is because Scott Stevens is tonight. His big chance to shine, his Main Event place with the LSD Championship on the line. It’s his big moment, this, all of this tonight, it’s HIS story.. Not mine. And let me tell you something I know about Scott Stevens. His isn’t a hero’s tale, this isn’t going to be a redemption story, there is no comeback fable.. Scott Stevens’ career is a cautionary story, it’s a tragedy.. There are no happy endings for Scott Stevens. He has stumbled from one sad moment in his life to the next while in High Octane Wrestling. Tonight I will play my part, just as my father, Lee Best, intended me to do.

With a dismissive wave of his hand the guards retract their spears and fall into formation behind him.

Max Kael: ..be the guy whose job it is to end the God damned story. Cause I’m the Worthiest, the Definitive and Dictatorial Maximillian Wilhelm Kael, Lord of Kaelsalvania, Prime Minister of Maxopotamia, the Number One Ranked Talent and Lord Supreme Dictator of High Octane Wrestling, First of my Name, Long May I M-

Brian Bare: MEEEEEEEEEEE!

Max is caught completely off guard as Brian Bare makes the most of his moment and dashes away. It takes a few more seconds of processing before Max realizes what has happened and begins a mad dash to chase down the offending Bare with there rest of the North Kaelrean Soldiers.

Back from commercial, we see the LSD hanging above one of the corners of the ring, hanging from a pole as we cut down to Joe and Benny at ringside.

Joe Hoffman: Ladies and gentlemen… it is now time for your main event!  The LSD Title on a Pole match with Max Kael defending his title against Scott Stevens.

Benny Newell: I thought Scott Stevens was going to be on the pole?

Joe Hoffman: No… why would… just how would that work?

Benny Newell: …..I actually have no idea.  Anyone who would put a person on a pole in a match would have to be the dumbest person ever.

Joe Hoffman: Right… anyways, rules are simple here tonight.  First man to grab the LSD Title off the pole is the winner.  That is it, no disqualifications and anything goes.

Benny Newell: Anything?

Joe Hoffman: Well, The Group of Death, those that are here tonight, have been banned from ringside… if that is what you’re referring too.  Though they also may believe they will have no need to help Max tonight.

Benny Newell: No shit Joe… it’s Scott Stevens.  But to be “professional”… This is going to be a GREAT match… Scott could be GREAT in this match against Max.  Wouldn’t that be GREAT?

Joe Hoffman: Wow… way to be subtle with the sarcasm and references.

Benny Newell: GREAT SCOTTS!!! You’re right!  I was being sarcastic.  Oh and don’t think I missed your dig at Mike Best.

Joe Hoffman: Dig, observation that he’s not here for Max’s title defense… call it what you want.

“Dead Man Walking” – Crucifix (feat. The Lacs) hits over the Allstate Arena as we see Scott Stevens make his way out onto the stage.  He looks out over the crowd which he has missed out on for weeks now and soaks in the moment.  From being banned from HOW to now main eventing Refueled for the LSD Title.

Bryan McVay: The following is a LSD Title on a Pole Match and is for… well the LSD Title.  First making his way to the ring, the challenger, from Houston, Texas and weighing in at 256 pounds… SCOTT STEEEEEVENS!!!!!

Benny Newell: Pronounce the double O you idiot!  It’s Scoot!

Joe Hoffman: Geez Benny… is this going to go on all night?

Benny Newell: Only until I run out of Scott Stevens jokes to make.  It’s been weeks Joe… they have been all building up for me to release them tonight and…

Joe Hoffman: Ok… that’s enough.

Stevens climbs up the stairs and into the ring where he looks up at the LSD Title hung in the corner of the ring.  He goes to climb the turnbuckle now… but Boettcher waves his arms and tell Stevens to back up.  Stevens smirks as he nods his head and backs up as he turns his attention to the entrance way to wait for Max.

“Shit Just Got Real (Feat. Sen Dog)” by Die Antwoord hits as the Chicago crowd roars for the LSD Champion and Hall of Famer Max Kael to make his way out.  But there is no pomp, no soldiers, dancers or flag bearers.  Just max looking quite irritated and annoyed as he marches down to the ring.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, from North Kaelrea and weighing in at 236 pounds… he is the HOW LSD Champion…. MAAAAAAAAXXXXX KAAAAEEELLLL!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Max doesn’t seem to be in a very good mood tonight… even though this is the match he so called picked from his LSD Lottery.

Benny Newell: So called?  You better not be saying he rigged the lottery.  That Stevens is the illegitimate winner.

Joe Hoffman: Maybe it’s my turn for some sarcasm…

Max rolls into the ring as Boettcher wastes little time in calling for the bell as instead of going at each other, both men race for the turnbuckle where the LSD Title is.  They get there at the same time and collide shoulder to shoulder as they start pushing for position as they try to climb the ropes.  It’s Max though gaining the first advantage as he thumbs Stevens in the eye and slams his head off the top turnbuckle.  Stevens stumbles backwards as Max climbs up to the second rope and instead of going for the title, he leaps off with a clothesline to Stevens that takes both down to the mat.

Joe Hoffman: Both men trying to end this quickly, but that slim, albeit smart chance to take, didn’t pay off for either man.

Benny Newell: We all know Max is retaining… so why drag this shit out?

Max helps Stevens to his feet and Royal Rumble style throws him over the top rope and to the outside… but Stevens is able to land on his feet in front of the announce table as Max and him lock eyes for a moment as Stevens races for the timekeepers table.  MAx heads to the turnbuckle as Stevens slides back into the ring.  As Max’s fingers just touch the LSD Title, Stevens cracks him across the back with the chair.  Max’s body twists in pain as he holds onto the pole to keep from falling.

CRACK!!

CRACK!!!

Two more chair shots to the back of Max and the LSD Champion loses his grip from the pole and falls off the turnbuckles and crashes hard to the mat.  Stevens slams the chair down onto the chest of Max as he starts to stomp away at it, over and over again until Max is somehow able to push the chair off him.

Joe Hoffman: Stevens losing it on Max, trying to stomp that steel chair through his chest!

Pulling Max back up to his feet, Stevens whips him across the ring and into the opposite corner as Stevens charges after him and drives a hard shoulder into the gut of Kael.  With Max doubled over, Stevens lifts Max up for a powerbomb… but Max starts to fire some rights at Stevens as he starts to stumble backwards.  Stevens shakes off the shots though as he turns and throws Max into the turnbuckle that the LSD Title is hung above.

Joe Hoffman: Buckle Bomb… OH SHIT!

The force of the powerbomb into the corner causes the turnbuckle to give way as MAx’s head come sinches from the ringpost and the top rope falls limp to the mat for half the ring.

Benny Newell: What the fuck Stevens!?!  You broke the ring!

Joe Hoffman: Max’s head came inches from the top of the ringpost…

Benny Newell: His brain almost splattered across the ring… someone arrest Stevens for attempted murder!

Boettcher and Stevens are both in shock for a few moments as Max pushes the ring ropes off him and rolls off the mat and to the floor outside.  Boettcher checks on the LSD Champion as Stevens now sees the added challenge to capturing the LSD Title as he climbs up to the second turnbuckle.

Joe Hoffman: A much bigger step now up to the ringpost to reach for that title.

Benny Newell: Max is hunting for something under the ring though.  It’s… it’s… LADY MURDERFUCKS!!!!

Joe Hoffmnan: Take another shot Benny… that’s a kendo stick.

Stevens uses the pole to pull himself up onto the ring post as Max hops back up onto the apron and now is the one delivering a shot across the back of Stevens with the kendo stick.  Max swings three more times as you can see the welts start to form across the back of Stevens.  Barely holding on is Stevens as Max tosses the kendo stick into the ring and pulls at Stevens leg, causing him to fall off the ringpost and clothesline himself across the throat on the second rope.

Joe Hoffman: Oh no… what does Max have in mind with that broken turnbuckle?

Benny Newell: Maim his Max!!! Maim him good!

Taking the loose ropes, Max starts to choke the down Stevens as Boettcher can  only look on as he tries to tell Max to take it easy… but that’s all he can do.  Stevens tries to reach out for the ropes… even though he is being choked by them.  But what he does grab is the metal bar that connects the turnbuckle to the ringpost.  Stevens swings it back at MAx and connects, busting the LSD champion open and breaking the choke hold.

Benny Newell: He can’t use the ring as a weapon like that?!?!

Joe Hoffman: Max was just choking Stevens with the ring ropes!

Benny Newell: Ropes!  Not a metal fucking rod!

Hypocrisy aside, both men are down on the mat as they both start to crawl to the ropes and try to pull themselves up.  Stevens wins the race and boots Max in his bloody face as Stevens stalks him…

Joe Hoffman: Toxic Sting!!! 

Benny Newell: Reverse by Max!

Max throws Stevens off him as he lands on the steel chair from earlier.  Taking a moment to wipe the blood from his eyes, Max looks at the two remaining turnbuckles and shakes his head as he steps over the second rope and drops to the outside.  Throwing up the ring apron, Max pulls himself out a ladder.

Joe Hoffman: Possibly a smart audible by Max with the top turnbuckle destroyed…

Max slides the ladder into the ring as Stevens starts to climb back to his feet.  He sees the ladder enter the ring and baseball slides it back into Max faces, sending the LSD champ slamming back into the announce table.

Benny Newell: Watch the Jack Stevens!!! What the fuck!

Joe Hoffman: Stevens now with the ladder!

Stevens picks the ladder up and props it against the pole as he starts to climb it towards the title.  But Max quickly shakes off the impact against the announce table and hops back onto the ring apron.  Stevens reaches for the LSD Title and gets his hand on it for a split second before MAX pushes the ladder over and Stevens is sent crashing to the mat.

Joe Hoffman: Stevens crashes and burns!  Did Max maybe plan this?

Benny Newell: Of course he did!  He is twenty moves ahead of Stevens!

Looking up at the LSD Title, Max starts to climb the turnbuckles from the apron.  He looks down at Stevens who has pushed the ladder off himself and starts to pull himself to his feet.  Max takes a moment to decide whether to launch off the second rope or go for the title.  He again looks up and decides to go for the belt as he pulls himself up onto the ringpost.

Joe Hoffman: Max, is inches from the title!

Stevens, back on his feet limps to the corner where he drills Max in the back of his leg, causing Max to retract from reaching for the title.  Max tries to boot Stevens in the face, but he misses as Stevens hammers him in the back now as he climbs onto the first turnbuckle.  Hammering Max a few more times, Stevens makes it onto the second rope as Max turns around to face Stevens as suddenly a bright light shoots out of Max’s left eye and Stevens quickly grabs his face.

Joe Hoffman: What the…

Benny Newell: The EYEMAX Experience!!!!

Joe Hoffman: How is that fair?!?

Benny Newell: I know!!!  People pay good money for this and Stevens gets it for free!

Blinded for a moment, Max delivers an elbow to the top of Stevens head, followed by another… and then a forearm to the face of Stevens as he falls backwards and lands right on the ladder he just fell from.

Joe Hoffman: Stevens is down!!! Max is all alone on the ringpost!

Benny Newell: Grab it Max!!!

Max stands up on the ringpost as he raises his elbow and hits it, signaling for a big elbow drop….

Joe Hoffman: What is he thinking of here?

Benny Newell: Grab the belt Max!!!

But Max just laughs, obviously joking about the elbow drop as he reaches up towards the LSD.

Joe Hoffman: Max to retain if he can pull that title down.

Benny Newell: How the fuck is Stevens moving?

Stevens rolls himself off the ladder as he holds his back in pain while he tries to pull himself up, but just falls back to the mat as Max Kael reaches up and pulls the LSD Title off the pole.

DING DING DING

Bryan McVay: The winner of this match… and STILL HOW LSD CHAMPION…. MAAAAAAX KAAAAAEEELL!!!!!

Max raises the title above his head in celebration, all while holding onto the pole heavily to refrain from falling.  He wipes the blood from his face again as Boettcher offers his hand to help him down…

Joe Hoffman: Max Kael squeezes out a win here tonight as he just barely retains the LSD title against a very game Scott Stevens who showed very little… to no ring rust here tonight.

Benny Newell: Squeezes?  Max was never in trouble here tonight… He knew every move Stevens was going to…

CRACK!!!!

Max winces in pain on top of the ring post as Stevens connects with another chair shot to the side of Max.  Nearly falling off there, Stevens takes three move shots at Max who somehow manages to hold on, but also is now in tremendous pain.

Benny Newell: Come on Stevens!  You lost again, just accept it!

Joe Hoffman: Stevens climbing back up there with Max now!

Ditching the chair, Stevens climbs back up to the second rope as he grabs Max by the head and launches him off the top of the ring post and straight towards Joe and Benny.

Joe Hoffman: Incoming!

The Hall of fame duo scatter as Max comes flying at them and lands hard, crashing through the announce table.

Joe Hoffman: Good God!!

Benny Newell: No Joe!!! Bad for GoD!  Very bad!  Someone get a medic out here to check on Max!!!  Do you need a shot Max?  I have Jack for you!

The crowd is roaring as Stevens raises his right arm in the air while he looks down at the carnage of the LSD champion laying in a heap of broken wood that used to form the HOW announce table.

Joe Hoffman: Max Kael may have retained the LSD Title… but it is Scott Stevens getting the last laugh here at Refueled!  

With Max laid out, the remaining members of GoD race out from backstage as Stevens quickly leaps down from the ropes and hops the crowd barricade.  The fans are booing the Texan as he stares down the Group of Death while he makes his exit out through the HOW fans.  Smacking a few drinks out of obnoxious fan’s hands, Stevens makes it to the top of the lower bowl while Lindsay Troy and Dan Ryan attend to Max with the HOW doctor.

Joe Hoffman: Well, that is all the time we have tonight, tune into HOW Classics next on HOTv and we will see you next week on Refueled!

Benny Newell: Fuck you Stevens!  Max and the Group of Death are going to kill you for this!

Joe Hoffman: Goodnight from Chicago!

END TRANSMISSION