Refueled XXVIII

As the cameras come to life, the High Octane Wrestling logo flashes over the HOV, followed by the logo for HOTv. The opening montage for HOW Refueled begins to play on the screen, before the camera slowly pans across the stage.  

The shot continues out over the hyped up Chicago crowd, showcasing fan made signs and the kind of screamed obscenities that don’t make the air if your shitty wrestling show is on basic cable. 

WHERE IS THE MASKED PERVERT?

I HAVE AN ERECTION FOR PERFECTION

BENNY ISN’T SURE IF HE LIKES ME OR NOT

ONE FALL! ONE FALL! ONE FALL! 

I WANT TO SUCK BOBBY DEAN’S DICK, SERIOUSLY

KNEESUS IS MY SAVIOR

LINDSAY TROY, LSD MOTHERFUCKING CHAMP

Finally, the cameras cut to the Hall of Fame announce team to officially begin tonight’s show. 

Joe Hoffman: Good evening everyone, I’m Joe Hoffman, joined as always by my broadcast partner “Big Buff” Benny Newell. We’re going to spare you the usual spiel tonight and get right down to it– we’ve got an exciting episode of Refueled  from top to bottom, and we’re looking to get right into it. 

Benny Newell: Are you too lazy to do the whole opener, Joe?

Joe Hoffman: AND IT ALL CULMINATES IN A LSD CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH! Maximilian Kael takes on Lindsay Troy, Group of Death versus Group of Death, just two shows out from HOW War Games!

Benny Newell: Too lazy.

Joe Hoffman: Let’s head to the ring!

“Stronger on your Own” by Disturbed blares over the PA.  Wearing a plastic face mask, Hollywood slowly walks from the back and takes center stage as he stands there for a few brief moments, holding his taped up ribs. Hollywood slowly saunters to the ring, still injured from the brutal attack Darin Matthews performed on him last week.  Hollywood winces in pain as he makes his way down to ramp with the crowd chanting his name.

Benny Newell:   I knew Brian Hollywood was a moron.  He should have forced management to give him the week off.  He’s going to need this bottle of Jack Daniels more than me.

Joe Hoffman:  I admire Hollywood for taking a stand after getting brutally assaulted last week.  Hollywood’s clearly bound and determined to prove his worth still in HOW, even if he’s in shambles himself.

Benny Newell:  The #1 Dad in all of HOW history will teach him the lesson he desperately needs to learn.  You know your place in HOW.   Especially if that place is a hospital bed!

Hollywood climbs up the stairs to the ring and leans on the turnbuckle.  No flashy entrances this time.  It’s business.  He motions for McVay to finish the introduction.  He doesn’t have it in him this week to rally his fans to their feet.

Bryan McVay:  Introducing first, from Los Angeles, CA:  he is….BRIIIIIIIIAANNN HOLLLYWOOD!!!!!!

Hollywood drops straight down to the floor and sits in the corner of the turnbuckle, exhausted.  He motions for Solex to come out, just looking pale in the face.  The crowd continues to roar as Solex’s music plays over the PA System.  “Cats in the Cradle” by Harry Chapin begins to play through the sound system as the words “#1 Dad” display on the HOV. The words dissolve and a montage of Steven Solex is shown playing on the HOV as Steven Solex steps out from behind the curtain and onto the entrance ramp. The crowd boos unceremoniously as Solex begins to make his way down the ramp and toward the ring. With his right hand, Steven holds a number one high up in the air, with the biggest, cheesiest of smiles on his face. Solex rolls under the bottom rope and into the ring as the crowd continues to boo. Solex goes camera side and again hoists a number one high in the air, but this time shouts out “#1 Dad!.” Solex goes to the corner, and walks up to Hollywood checking on him.

Bryan McVay:  And his opponent; from Huntington Beach, California!  He’s H.O.W’s number 1 dad!   STEEEEEEEVEN SOOOOOOOOOOOOLEX!

Joe Hoffman: Solex is giving Hollywood a pep talk before this match up folks.  He’s checking Hollywood out.

Benny Newell:   Good God all mighty! Hoffhole!  He’s lecturing Hollywood! Hollywood shouldn’t even be in this match.   Why the fuck is Hollywood fighting with him over this?  Solex wants Hollywood to stay out of harm’s way.  Stern lecture.  He wants Hollywood do the right thing and…

BLAM!

Hollywood immediately strikes Solex straight across the temple of the face with a headbutt with his face mask as Matt Boettcher rings the bell to begin the match.

DING DING DING DING!!!!

Hollywood tries to go for the offense, but it’s weakened due to his injuries.  Each punch connects to Solex’s ribs get weaker and weaker, until finally Hollywood steps back to rest.  As he’s catching his breath, Solex grabs Hollywood’s head and puts it in a headlock.  He gives Hollywood the stiffest fist rubs to the top of his head ever.  Solex then grabs Hollywood’s nose and “rips it off.”  Hollywood’s discombobulated from all the fast motions Solex makes before Solex just stiffly punches Hollywood in the face.  He shakes his hand for a moment, rebounding before he grabs Hollywood with a nice big fatherly bear hug.  Solex launches Hollywood over his head rather messily with a belly to belly suplex.

Joe Hoffman:  Solex’s off his fatherly game.  His suplex was not that crisp.  He usually issues that with authority.

Benny Newell:  Give the man a break!  Between all the drama with Murrberg and having a few weeks off, Solex is allowed to have an off week.  If you don’t think he will, he will set your ass in the corner, Hoffman!    Don’t make him do that!  He’s had enough of a rough month!

Solex picks Hollywood’s body off the canvas and hits a backbreaker on him.  He proceeds to spank Hollywood’s rear unmercifully.  Solex rushes towards Hollywood and hits a stiff kick right to Hollywood’s mask.  Solex is pumped up.  He picks Hollywood up to hit a German Suplex, but Hollywood recovers and lands on his feet and drops to his knees.  As Hollywood looks on dazed, Solex rushes towards him and hits a rusty clothesline on him.    Solex decides to prepare the submission.  As Hollywood crawls for the ropes, Solex grabs him and locks in a Camel Clutch on Hollywood.  The crowd claps and rallies Hollywood on as he crawls towards the ropes.   As Solex clinches in the lock, Hollywood grabs the ropes to force a rope break.

Shaking his head in disappointment, Solex releases the hold before Boettcher hits 3.  Solex rushes towards Hollywood and nails a stiff kick right to his ribs.  Hollywood holds onto his sides screaming out in pain.  Forcefully, Solex yanks Hollywood to his feet for a gutwrech powerbomb.  Hollywood twists and reverses the move into a hurricanarana.  Hollywood gets to his feet and nails a picture-perfect Danger Zone kick straight to Solex’s jaw, sending him over the top turnbuckle.

Joe Hoffman:  Hollywood’s finding his second wind.

Benny Newell:  Are you sure he even had a first wind in this match?  Solex has been dominating him left and right, even if he’s off.

Joe Hoffman:  Hollywood can barely breathe, let alone stand after Matthews’ attack on him last week.    He’s fighting off the pure adrenaline rushes he’s getting from the crowd in this one.

Benny Newell:  And morphine!  Don’t forget the morphine!  The amount of pain killers in Hollywood’s system to even get him out here tonight should have flagged on a drug test in some promotions.

Hollywood grabs Solex and tries to send him into the corner turnbuckle, but Solex overpowers him and Hollywood’s head collides with it.  Solex gets frustrated and rips Hollywood’s plastic head gear piece off and bites his face.  Solex grabs Hollywood and lands a sick spinebuster onto the steel steps before throwing Hollywood back into the ring.  Solex charges towards Hollywood, but Brian falls to the mat while Solex collides with the turnbuckle shoulder first.  Hollywood pulls himself off the mat with all his might.  He climbs up the turnbuckle and mounts punches Solex in the face ten times before Solex grabs him and hits a massive powerbomb on Hollywood.  As Hollywood gets back to his feet, Solex points straight to Hollywood’s chest.

Benny Newell:  YES!  My favorite move!  The Finger Poke of Dad!  You’ve got a spot on your chest, Hollywood!  CHECK IT OUT!  CHECK IT OUT!

WHAM!  BLAM!

Joe Hoffman:  Hollywood’s not in the mood for shenanigans tonight, Benny.  That was one stiff kick and DDT to the gut on Solex.  He might need one of your Jack Daniel’s shots after that one.

Hollywood’s pissed off.  As Solex crawls towards the ropes, Hollywood continues to stomp mudhole after mudhole into Solex who is grabbing onto the bottom turnbuckle for dear life.  Boettcher runs over and pulls Hollywood off Solex.  Boettcher and Hollywood starts arguing while Solex gets back to his feet.  Boettcher sees Solex charging towards Hollywood with his finishers.

BAM!

Benny Newell:  By Gosh!  By Golly!  The Clothesline from Heck right to Hollywood’s temple.  Hoffhole!  It’s over!  It’s finally over!  Solex gets his win back over Hollywood after the LBI incident.  He’s got the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE…..

Joe Hoffman:  NO!  ROPE BREAK AT THE LAST SECOND!!!  Hollywood’s put his foot under the ropes and Boettcher is calling it to the surprise of Solex.  Solex desperately wants this win!

Immediately, Solex climbs to his feet and nails knee drop after knee drop onto the back of Hollywood’s head.    He grabs his glorious dad hair doo and just looks on in complete horror.  He grabs Hollywood and attempts to hit the Russian Leg Sweep on him, but Hollywood grabs onto the ropes as Solex lands head first into the mat.  Hollywood rushes and hits a neckbreaker right on Solex.    Leg drop after leg drop comes from Hollywood as he tries to end it.  After the third leg drop, Solex places his legs up in the air and brings Hollywood to his ground.  Solex picks Hollywood up for the spinebuster.  This one’s going to be stiff!

Joe Hoffman:  This is going to be one of the sickest spinebusters Steven Solex has ever delivered.

Benny Newell:  With anything, it will send Hollywood’s brain to the right academy after this week.  He will finally realize he’s at SIX TIME Academy.  Maybe it will correct his vision issues!

CRACK!!!!!

From out of nowhere, Hollywood barely grazes the face of Solex with a Danger Zone kick.  He picks up Solex off the mat and delivers a sick Basic Instinct straight to the mat.  Boettcher counts the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!

Joe Hoffman:  There it is!  With that Basic Instinct, Hollywood pulls off the upset tonight here!

Benny Newell:  I’m just surprised that the Basic Instinct actually exists.  I was beginning to think it didn’t after Hollywood had to keep reminding us about it week in and week out.  Usually Hollywood was the one on the bottom just like Sharon Stone the last few weeks.

Bryan McVay:  Here is your winner…..

BAM!  BAM!  BAM!

From out of nowhere, Darin Matthews jumps the first-row barricade and cracks Hollywood in the stomach twice with the steel pipe before hitting The Ratings Spike on Hollywood, driving him headfirst into the mat.

DING!  DING!  DING!  DING!  DING!

Joe Hoffman:  Dang its Matthews!  This isn’t about you tonight!  You still don’t have a contract here in HOW!  Not like you deserve it!

Benny Newell:  Shut up, Hoffhole!!  I don’t want to end up bed side next to you getting sponge baths if this man continues to snap. Matthews has completely lost his marbles.  After all the years of torture, I don’t blame him one bit.  I would have offered him some jack to numb the pain, but he doesn’t drink!

Meredith climbs over the turnbuckle cheering on Matthews as his eyes widen.  He sees blood.   He wants to finish Hollywood off once and for all.   Matthews clinches his fists together, licks his lips, and rushes towards the turnbuckle, signing the papers just like Brian Hollywood did in the past.  It’s now HIS EXECUTIVE PRIVILEGE!

Joe Hoffman:  Now he’s adding insult to injury.  Right as Meredith cheers on!  Hollywood’s trying to crawl away!

WHAM!

As Matthews lifts his leg for the kick, Hollywood clocks him straight in the groin with the stray lead pipe.  Matthews rolls out of the ring and Meredith and him both high tail it for the back.  Hollywood takes a couple of breaths before he uses the pipe to prop himself back up.  He slowly walks out of the ring, carrying the lead pipe in tow as he pursues Darin Matthews and Meredith.

Joe Hoffman:  Hollywood defends himself after that attack, and now he’s on pursuit of Matthews in the back.  Matthews and Meredith both are probably cowering somewhere in the back away from Hollywood.

Benny Newell:  Rightfully so, Hoffman!  If you almost killed a guy and he came back to life miraculously the next week.  You’re supposed to Double Tap him, Joe.  Haven’t you watched Zombieland.  For once, Matthews had the right idea!  Hollywood’s a walker!  You don’t let that happen here!

Hoffman rolls his eyes at Benny as the scene fades to black with Hollywood on the pursuit of Darin Matthews.

Prerecorded.

Scene opens inside a messy hotel room.  Steve Harrison sits in a chair his short beard does not look straight or even and his head showing obvious stubble.  In his hand a bottle of cheap whiskey leans dangerously to the left looking like it will spill to the floor with any rash movement.

Steve Harrison: Hello HOWinites?  HOWsers?  HOWamanics?  HOWanians? It is I, Steve Harrison—

Steve raises his arms whiskey flying in the air.

Steve Harrison: –THE MIRACLE MAN!

Steve pauses for expected cheers from the crowd.  Live the camera shows all fans sitting on their seats looking at their phones.

Steve Harrison: I am not sure why I paid good money for such a lackluster signing announcement the other night.

Off camera the Publicist from the other night is head.

Woman: You don’t pay me.

Steve’s eyes dart left and right showing a maddening pupil dilation.

Steve Harrison: Yes—well—that’s beside the point.  Let me formally announce myself to the HOW wrestlers, including the catering company: the eGG Bandits.

The camera man pans the camera down to the floor and speaks to Steve.

Camera Man: The eGG Bandits are a wrestling stable.

The camera pans back up to Steve.  He shakes his head his mouth agape in amazement that it is a name of a wrestling stable and takes a small sip from his whiskey bottle.

Steve Harrison: Seems like everyone is trying to mess up my amazing introduction back to the wrestling world.  It has been a long time, and, in that time, I have discovered how to look and feel this great.

Steve stands up and flex’s, barely showing any muscle.  He looks like he has taken the last ten years off from the gym.

Steve Harrison: I can teach all of you, but it takes several levels of commitment to understand the ways of wisdom I must sell to you; I mean show to you–

Off camera the Publicist is heard again, Steve stops talking and sighs looking off camera at her.

Woman: Mr. Best gave you five minutes to talk about wrestling, not your pyram—

Steve cuts her off and laughs trying to forget everything that was just said.

Steve Harrison: Well of course, that is what I am getting to.  Nobody understands that it takes several levels of technical prowess to out wrestle the Suplex Saint.  I will bring you to a place of Enlightenment and give you the Miracle you ALL desire, you ALL covet, and YOU all prayed for.   I am giddy with excitement for what I can do for all of you.  I will see you soon—oh and for all those wonderful people in the crowd—bring your checkbook.

Steve holds up a piece of paper he obviously wrote with a sharper on.  It reads “Miracle Enterprise.”  He shakes it violently at the camera.  He put it back down picks up his TV remote and pushes a button.

Woman: NOT IN MY EYE.

We realize it was on mute before and groans are heard throughout the room (the disappointed type) as the scene fades.

The show feed cuts from some guy saying hello to the Basket.

The eGG Basket.

The mood is tense.

A hulking, behemoth of a man is seated in the middle of the room with a black bag over his head. The Bandits, like a team of interrogators, sit at a table across from him.

Jiles: So… what makes you so eager to go… OVER EASY? Is it because the Queen is taking the throne? Please, tell us she is taking the throne.

No response.

Not even a wiggle.

Zeb Martin: If I may, I just want to say it’s truly an honor to formally meet you.

Nothing. Even with Zeb’s awful attempt at acting like a civil businessman, no reaction. It probably didn’t help that his interpretation of a “big city executive” for some reason came with a British accent.

Zeb Martin: Well I declare.

Next.

Max Shell: Will you cry if I cripple your little dove?

The room, sans Shell, awkwardly looks around as if an out to Max’s question were aimlessly floating through the air.

Jiles: The sooner you start talking, the sooner this ends. Just saying. Be smart. For once.

Silence.

Bobby Dean: Nope. He isn’t cracking, Cancer. The proverbial cat definitely has this man’s tongue. What’s more, I think he’s intimidated by us. He’s realizing that maybe he’s bitten off more than he can chew tonight, and it scares him so much he can’t even talk!

The Maestro gasps.

Then, suddenly, the screen splits revealing Dan Ryan! Stoic, he stands with his arms crossed, taking in the Bandits’ shenanigans on a backstage monitor.

Jiles: Zeb, why don’t you take the hood off of our rat. Let’s get a good look at those eyes of his and see if Beautiful Bob is right. I can tell.

Apprehensive, Zeb stands from his chair and proceeds with extreme caution toward the subject of the interrogation. Slowly, he reaches out, quickly checks back in with the other Bandits who nod yes, and rips the bag off.

Raucous laughter.

It’s not who you think it is.

Well, it’s probably who you think it is, just not who the Bandits led you to believe.

It’s CBD.

Jiles: Hey, REAL DAN RYAN. Say nothing if you’re scared because you think you’re going to lose tonight!

After a few seconds of quiet, high fives and pig squeals ensue.

Then, the split screen ominously splits away.

Wonder why it would do that?

Jiles: What’s that? I can’t hear you, Dan. 

Doozer: Alright, I can’t anymore. Why, again, did we think it’d be smart to poke the bear?

Worth mentioning that Dooze, while present and accounted for, hasn’t said much till then. He hasn’t been laughing much either. The old bull has his game face on.

Jiles: Because I’m not facing him?

Death stare.

Then.

The bear.

Shits.

In the woods.

The doors swing open. Zeb, who has yet to return to his seat, stares blankly at the Bandits’ new guest.

Jiles: Uh.

Bobby Dean: Fuck. Me.

Zeb Martin: It’s a… a pleasu….

The Ego Buster enters the eGG Basket as if it were GoD’s locker room.

Dan Ryan: I don’t think you’ll need this anymore.

The cold blooded wrestling megastar — who Texas actually acknowledges — casually tears the head from his cardboard likeness as if it were made out of a single piece of newspaper.

Jiles lets out a silent scream. 

Bobby falls out of his chair. 

Zeb is still trying to find the words.

Shell is joyfully teetering back and forth.

The Dooze takes a breath to further assess the situation. He first ensures that Bobby, his tag team partner, didn’t hurt himself. He did not. CBD, yes, he has been decapitated. Jiles, grief stricken, is ghost white. Zeb, luckily for him, has the resilience of youth on his side. And Max Shell has begun to calmly play the Yolkulele to the tune of “Zero” by the Smashing Pumpkins.

After completing all checks and balances, The Dooze slowly returns his focus to their gargantuan guest. The eldest Bandit sneers at the Texan.

Doozer: You just made a big mistake.

Ryan’s eyes dart upward slightly, as he considers the comment, then go back to Doozer.

Dan Ryan: I don’t really think I did.

With this, and with CBD’s “head” under his arm, Ryan turns and takes one small step (for mankind) toward the door, and bends over, placing the severed cardboard head on the floor. He pats the head for good measure, pointing a finger over it as if to say “stay”, like it were a little paper dog or something.

Jiles stares at it there, bottom lip beginning to quiver.

Bobby Dean: You… you… You monster! You… insensitive…. heartless…. cardboard mauling monster!

Dan Ryan: Now Bobby, I’m rather offended by that statement. I’m not insensitive at all. Also, it’s cardboard. You can’t eat it, so I’m not sure why you’re so emotionally attached to it.

Dean turns beet red.

Bobby Dean: THAT’S EXACTLY WHY!

He turns to Doozer.

Bobby Dean: Screw the plan, this big ape’s gonna get it!

Dan Ryan: I’ve never been attacked by a saggy strawberry man before. I guess there’s a first time for everything.

Bobby Dean: AHHHH!!

Dan Ryan readies himself as Bobby gears up to charge at him. His anger turns to fight as a strong hand lands on his shoulder, holding him back.

Doozer: Save that for the ring.

The old eGG Bandit advises his tag partner while coolly stepping in front of him, going face to face with the taller Texan.

Doozer: Like I said, Godzilla here is mine.

Dan Ryan is somewhere between smiling and sneering.

Dan Ryan: Oh, I’m yours, am I?

The Dooze inches up even closer to Dan’s face. Tough to tell with the closeup, but safe to assume the old man’s on his tiptoes. The scene is reminiscent of Marty McFly stretching up to face off with Biff, only without the cool Huey Lewis & the News soundtrack playing in the background.

Doozer: That’s what I said.

Ryan chuckles.

Dan Ryan: First of all, no one is yours, Dooze, least of all me. Second of all, Bobby’s eyes are still bulging out of his head. I think he might have Graves’ disease…

The camera shoots over to Bobby, whose eyes are, indeed, bulging out of his head in rage.

Dan Ryan: Thirdly, and finally, you’ll have your chance to avenge your little cardboard friend really soon. But, you already know I’m a little sturdier than a cardboard cutout. We’ll see how brave you are when I start hitting back.

The Dooze closes his eyes for a moment of serenity. Then, he channels his inner Kostoff.

Doozer: You think this is the first time I’ve heard big talk from a big man? I’ve cut down bigger trees than you in my day. Every time I look at your stupid face, I want to break it. And I’m sick of waiting.

Ryan snarls, looking down his scrunched nose into Doozer’s electric, blue eyes. The scene fades with the two unblinking, Dean fuming, Cancer eating popcorn, and Zeb standing behind Max… who’s still playing the Yolkulele, but the tune sounds more like the theme from the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

Cut to commercial.

WAR GAMES MAIN EVENT FOR THE WORLD, ICON & LSD CHAMPIONSHIPS
Captain Michael Lee Best©, Farthington©, Dan Ryan, Lindsay Troy vs. Max Kael©, Andy Murray©, Perfection, ??

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
High Flyer, MJ Flair, Mikey Unlikely, Jessie Kendrix, Doozer, Cancer Jiles, Zeb Martin, Bobby Dean, Lucian Santangel, Joe Bergman©

We cut backstage and see Lucian Santangel standing next to Blaire Moise, Lucian looks to be ready for his match which is moments away.

Lucian Santangel: Blaire, it is our time together again

Blaire Moise: Why me? I am fed up with you always backstage with me.

Lucian Santangel: Is it because I cause you nightmares?

Blaire Moise: No, its because you creep me out?

Lucian Santangel: So you do think of me?

Blaire Moise: No, you are the weirdest guy I have ever met

Lucian Santangel: Thank you, Now where is Woodson?

Blaire Moise: COO Scott Woodson?

Lucian Santangel: The one and only, I cannot find him!

Blaire Moise: And why would I know where he is? and is that the reason you asked me here? Just to find out where Woodson is?

Lucian Santangel: Of course not, I’ve got a message I want you to give someone for me.

Blaire Moise: A message?

Lucian Santangel: I want you to take that envelope and give it to the first monster you see

Blaire Moise: Right 

Lucian Santangel: Go Now!, I need to go!, Time to break an egg.

We cut to ringside.

Joe Hoffman: An envelope to the next monster Blaire sees?

Benny Newell: No clue Joe… but we will see if the carney freak can continue his undefeated streak here in HOW.

Joe Hoffman: Well he will have a tall order in front of him in tonight as he takes on one of the men he is hoping to face at War Games for the Tag Team Titles, COOL Jiles.

The lights dim. The arena quiets. A chill moves through the air… “I am the COOL” explodes over the speakers.

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

Out from behind the curtain, after a second or two of suspense, The Crown Prince of COOL, Cancer Jiles emerges. Shades on, hair on point and with four cartons of eggs, he pauses at the top of ramp and basks in the glorious affection of his precious OctaBandits.

Bryan McVay: The following match is scheduled for one fall, making his way to the ring from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and weighing in at 229 pounds…. COOOOOOOOOOLLLLL JIIIIIILLLLESSS!!!

Joe Hoffman: First of three matches for The Bandits tonight, including the big tag team tilt against Dan Ryan and Mike Best later tonight.

Benny Newell: The big murdering you mean.

After having his fill, the lights come up and Jiles confidently makes his way down to the ring as he starts handing out cartons of eggs before reaching the ring sliding on in under the bottom rope.

Benny Newell: Why… why did he hand eggs out to the crowd?

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. As he lowers his head the lights turn into a red spotlight from above the figure.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, from Sinaloa, Mexico and weighing in at 227 pounds….  LUUUUUCIAN SANTANGEEEEELLLL!!!

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 instead of throwing streamers at him, start pelting Lucian with the eggs that Jiles had just handed them.

Joe Hoffman: The fans are egging Lucian!

Benny Newell: Fucking brilliant!

A handful of eggs hit their marks as Lucian storms the ring, seemingly furious as he charges for Jiles.  But Lucian is stopped in his tracks by a yellow mist from Jiles

Joe Hoffman: Egg Cracker by Jiles!

Hortega, not wanting to get Salmonella, just steps back and just calls for the bell to start the match.

DING DING DING

Lucian desperately tries to get his fingers unders his mask to rub away the yellow mist as Jiles starts believing fry pan chops to the chest of Lucian.

CHOP

Crowd: eGG!

CHOP

Crowd: eGG!

CHOP

Crowd: eGG!

CHOP

Crowd: eGG!

CHOP

Crowd: eGG!

Joe Hoffman: Jiles is really cooking now Benny!

Benny Newell: No Joe!  No!

After the fifth chop Lucian is up against the ropes as Jiles irish whips Lucian across the ring and as Lucian returns delivers a knee into his gut.  Lucian is down on the mat as Jiles stomps on the fingers of Lucian’s left hand.  Climbing back up to his feet, holding his left hand, Jiles boots Lucian in the guy and goes for the DDT, but Lucian reverses it with a back body drop.  With Jiles down, Lucian hits a standing shooting star press as he goes for the quick cover.

UNO……….

DOS…………………..

Jiles powers out as both men climb to their feet and Lucian hits the ropes and connects with a sling blade as Jiles pops back up to his feet as Lucian hits the ropes again and goes for a drop kick to the knee of Jiles, but Jiles pushes his feet away and Lucian lands hard on the mat.  Jiles looks down at Lucian and yells at him to get up.

Joe Hoffman: Jiles egging Lucian on for more.

Benny Newell: I said no!

Lucian though rolls out of the ring to regroup, but Jiles doesn’t waste time as he hits the ropes and dives through the ropes into Lucian, sending him crashing into the barricade.  The crowd roars as Jiles grabs Lucian and throws him back into the ring.  Climbing the steel steps and then the turnbuckles, Jiles is perched up high and leaps off for a big top rope elbow drops into the chest of Lucian as Jiles goes for the cover.

UNO……………

DOS………………..

TRES……………………

Benny Newell: Jiles….

Joe Hoffman: Lucian with the shoulder up!

Jiles jams his finger in the eye hole of Lucian’s mask and brings it out the other as he fishhooks Lucian up to his feet as he goes to throw Lucian into the corner, but Jiles gets caught with a boot in the gut forcing him to let go of the mask.  Lucian starts hammering the back of Jiles as he sets him up for his finisher.

Joe Hoffman: Could be time for Espiga de la Muerte

Benny Newell: Finally Joe, you onto something!  Yes, I could use some tequila.

Joe Hoffman: No, that’s Lucian’s fin…

A back body drop reverses the move as Lucian lands on his feet though, as he turns around both men are thinking super kick….

Joe Hoffman: Terminal….

Benny Newell: He nearly kicked the mask off Lucian’s head!

Jiles’ superkick lands just a moment before Lucian’s can as Jiles drops down and quickly goes for the cover.

UNO……..

DOS…………………..

TRES……………………………..

Joe Hoffman: And it is….

Benny Newell: OVER!!!! The carriage has turned back into a pumpkin and Lucian’s undefeated streak is OVER!!!!!

DING DING DING

Bryan McVay: The winner of this match…. COOOOOOOOOLLL JIIIIIIIILLES!!!!!!

Climbing back to his feet, Hortgea raises Jiles’ arm as “I Am The COOL” plays in the background.  Jiles rolls out of the ring as a few leftover eggs rain down on the ring at Lucian while Hortega dives out of the ring for cover.

Joe Hoffman: Great start for the Bandits tonight as they will look to parlay that in our next match where rookie Bandit Zeb Martin takes one half of the Tag Team champions, Joe Bergman.

Benny Newell: Bumpkin vs. Bumpkin… as they scrap the Pumpkin off the ring mat.

Joe Hoffman: Whose making jokes now?

Benny Newell: Mine are actually funny Joe… and not bad Steve Solex dad jokes.

Jiles celebrates on the ramp as Lucian slowly rolls his egg covered self out of the ring before we cut away to somewhere backstage in the Allstate Arena.

Backstage we see Blaire Moise standing in front of the office door of Lee Best.

Blaire Moise: Well all week there have been rumors and speculations that seemed to change every hour.  We have tried to reach out to 51% Owner of HOW, Lee Best and 49% Owner of HOW Scott Woodson all week with no success.  All we know is that tonight we will get more details on a possible ownership change in HOW.  With just one show left before we head to Normandy for War Games, there are so many questions left up in the air.

Suddenly we see COO of HOW, Scott Woodson make his way into the shot as he looks at Blaire who is blocking the door with a puzzled look.

Blaire Moise: Mister Woodson, can you give us any insight into what is happening with the Ownership of HOW?  Are you selling your shares to Lee Best?  Is… is he selling to you?

Scott Woodson: Blaire, lesson one in business.  Never work with family.  That shit can get messy.  Lesson two though… don’t discuss a deal until every T is crossed and every I is dotted.  When you need to know something Blaire… when it is signed and the ink is dry, I’ll let you know.

Woodson reaches for the door knob of Lee’s office, but Blaire cuts Woodson off with another question.

Blaire Moise: Do you have any response to your fellow stablemates Lucian Santangel and Hughie Freeman after what they said earlier this week?

Letting go of the door knob, Woodson slowly turns his attention back to Blaire.  You can tell the Corporate Artist is not happy with the question and Blaire is poking at a sore spot with Woodson.

Scott Woodson: All I have to say… is don’t scheme against… and then submit that video to HOTv Lucian.  Did you think I wouldn’t watch?  Or that someone wouldn’t tell me?  But it’s cool Blaire.  There is obviously a rift in HATE that can not be fixed.  But in the end, it all adds clarity to my decision tonight.

Blaire Moise: What decision is that?

Scott Woodson: Spoilers Blaire… spoilers.  Also rule number two.  So if I could please get into Lee office and carry on with my business.

Blaire Moise: Of course Mister Wood…

Scott Wodoson: Oh… and I’ll also take that envelope.

Blaire Moise: Envelope?  Oh… the one Lucian gave me?

Scott Woodson: Yes, he said he wanted the first monster you saw to have it.

The cameraman pulls the envelope he has folded and stuff into his back pocket out and hands it over to Mister Woodson who gives a nod to the cameraman.

Scott Woodson: Now… I have a monster deal to finalize…

Woodson opens the door to Lee’s office and makes his entrance as Blaire tries to sneak a look in before Woodson closes the door behind him.

Blaire Moise: We’ll keep you updated if we get any further developments here tonight regarding the possible change in ownership of HOW.

We open to a High Octane Backdrop. An Image of Lee Best plastered on one side, Mike Best staring fiercely back on the other. War Games imagery covers the rest of the canvas. Tanks and bombs and planes and fire! 

Insert The Hollywood Bruvs. 

From stage left comes everyone in High Octane’s favorite tag team. The boys are in their newest FRAP LIFE! Hollywood Bruvs TShirts, available soon… and jeans. The Bruvs seem to be in a good mood, they look at the banner and snicker at one another. 

Kendrix: Look at these two dorks! How can you even advertise War Games without putting the Hollywood Bruvs on ALL of the promo material?

Mikey looks over at his partner. 

Mikey Unlikely: Uh Bruv? Lee Best is the one who hired us… Paid us all this money… got the boys back together…?

Kendrix: That’s Lee Best? I thought that was Lee…West! JFK loves Lee Best. He’s the best Best around. I’ve always said that! 

Mikey Unlikely: Yea but I said it first. Wait I’ve got an idea!  Remember Double D’s?

Jesse gets an excited look on his face. Unlikely shakes his head. 

Mikey Unlikely: Not those ones! …Double D’s…down in Louisiana? 

Jesse’s the first to turn around and realize they’re on camera. JFK gently slaps Mikey on the chest and points to the camera smiling. Mikey nods and turns away momentarily, slipping his cell phone into his hands. He dials a number feverishly as Kendrix takes the air time. 

Kendrix: Three weeks from today, June 20th. WAR GAMES! JFK did some research and he’s found out that it’s not an actual war with guns and stuff. Which is actually quite good because the Hollywood Bruvs made sure their water tight contracts specifically prohibited them from being sent to actual war. Nice try!

Meanwhile Unlikely is talking to someone in the background, he isn’t facing the camera so it’s hard to make out what’s being said in the conversation. Mikey pokes JFK on the shoulder. 

Mikey Unlikely: How big do we want it? 

Jesse pauses his message for HOW to give Mikey an answer. 

Kendrix: The biggest one possible, innit bruv?!

The Unlikely one disappears behind JFK for a second and comes back. 

Mikey Unlikely: He says it’s 8 feet! 

Jesse shakes his head.

Kendrix: No, that’s too big. Will it have our faces on it?

The Hollywood star nods enthusiastically. 

Mikey Unlikely: As closely as they can get it to resemble us yes! 

Kendrix: OK, just make sure they get my dashing smile in perfect.

Turning back to face the lens Jesse throws us that shit eating grin.

Kendrix: Now where was I? Oh yeah! In three weeks time The Hollywood Bruvs enter the War Games Tag Team Title match as the plucky favourites. How could we not be? I mean after the recent winning streak we’ve been on combined with the fact that we are the Greatest Tag Team on the planet…I don’t even think you could say the champions themselves have a better shot than The Bruvs. 

Another tap on the shoulder from his manly partner. 

Mikey Unlikely: Bruv, ok it’s 5 feet! What colo….nevermind… GOLD OBVS! 

Kendrix: Totally Obvs! 

Mikey Unlikely: This is going to be so great! We can put it next to the countdown clock! 

The American Hollywood Bruv fists pumps Tiger Woods style before continuing on his phone conversation. 

Kendrix: Speaking of the Champions, speaking of the Egg Bandits, friend or foe, bruv or scrub, The Hollywood Bruvs are gunning for the High Octane Tag Team Championships. That’s what we came here for, and while it’s unfortunate Andy Murray is one half of the current champions, we cannot let that distract us from our destiny! The High Octane Tag Titles belong to the Bruvs, we’re running through everything High Octane can throw at us… 

His partner interrupts him one last time. 

Mikey Unlikely: Alright, it’s all set Bruv! The Hollywood Bruvs War Games Celebration Memorial of our HUGE WIN Trophy is in PRODUCTION BAYBEE! Or, as I like to call it, the THBWGCMooHWT… for short! 

The bruvs hold clenched fists together and struggle to tear them apart from each other such is the power of the excitemtent behind this particular GLUEFIST!

Kendrix: Great work, Bruv! Also, another amazingly catchy abbreviation from yourself. You truly are the World’s Greatest Entertainer in the World.

Unlikely nods along before he looks at the camera. 

Mikey Unlikely: …and in a few weeks time, Mikey Unlikely and Kendrix are going to walk out of War Games with the High Octane Tag Team Titles, AND our new trophy! 

Then….THEN… Andy Murray, Perfection…Maybe even a Hollywood Bruv… one of us is walking out of the OTHER War Games match with even more HOW Gold! 

He skips a beat. 

Mikey Unlikely: WAR GAMES IS GOING TO BE THE BEST NIGHT EVER! 

The Bruvs walk out of shot as the camera focuses on the War Games backdrop.

Kendrix (O/S): So the trophy will definitely have our faces on it, yeah?

The show cuts to commercial.

I think we could all use a PIRATE STOUT this week. 

Backstage:

The commotion that goes on with every live show is seen and heard. People going from one end of the arena to the other is seen, multiple conversations going on in the background are going on.

A few people move and shuffle as Kostoff makes his way backstage. Because he does not go to all the shows, most are in shock to the see the Hall Of Famer making his way backstage. A few people stop him and shake hands or offer the proverbial high five, he repays the handshakes and high fives.

As he makes his way through the crowd, he stops and leans against a wall. He looks around, almost like he is taking it all in for the first time. He nods his head.

Kostoff: Why do I do what I do? That question has been asked for years. Too many years. Why do I go and look for fights? Why do I let myself get into these fucking wars?

Kostoff: It has never been hidden I enjoy violence. I enjoy pain, my own and others.

He looks into the camera now and grins

Kostoff: You see, I am getting older. My body has taken some inhumane amounts of damage, hell I’ll never be ok again really. But now, now me being here has a different meaning to me.

Kostoff: You see, the my time is running out here, and I am really ready to get my plan into place. It is going to be something that will shake the core of this place to the fucking ground.

Kostoff: I will make sure….

Before he can get the rest of the words out of his mouth, the sound of metal hitting bone echoes through the tv. Kostoff crumbles to the floor as his head peels open, as blood begins to pour down his face. The chair that hit him slams down again on his exposed head. The camera pulls back to show Lucian standing there with a smile on his face.

Being the fighter he is, Kostoff stirs and begins to crawl to his hands and knees. Spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor, he looks up to get met with a baseball swing from the chair into his face. He falls face first down into a pool of his blood. Lucian smiles as he runs his hand across the chair. Looking down, he sees Kostoff blood on his hand. He drops the chair next to the prone body of Kostoff and smiles. He wipes the blood of the fallen Hall Of Famer across his face. Kneeling down he grabs the head of Kostoff and lifts it up.

Lucian: Now. Now we are one.

Dropping the head of Kostoff onto the cement floor, Lucian gets to his feet and walks away down the hallway

Joe Hoffman: All right, we’re back.   Last week Joe Bergman returned to singles action at Refueled XVII against Chris Kostoff and came away with a big win.

Benny Newell: Bullshit Hoffhole.  Kostoff reinjured his arm.  Bergman should have made a point last week and tore Kostoff’s arm clean off instead of trying to be the nice guy.  The guy has no killer instinct.

Joe Hoffman: Well, we’ll see how he fares this week as he takes on the Watson Mill Kid, Zeb Martin as we go back to the ring for our next match.

“I’m sinfully delicious!”

Barbie-Q’s high-pitched, squeaky tone (done in annoyingly brainless blonde bombshell sing-song tone to the tune of the tag from the Lucky Charm’s cereal commercial) heralds the arrival of HOW’s Master Griller- Barbie Q.

Benny Newell: I would love for her to sit on my face so I could find out how sinfully delicious she is.

Joe Hoffman: BENNY!

Benny Newell: We had this talk last week Joe.

Wearing a low cut, cropped red top with a pair of torn Daisy Duke shorts and cowboy boots, Barbie-Q struts her way down the ramp carrying a platter full of brats, burgers, and steaks and stops intermittently to hand out food and pose for the fans.

Then a quick hammer-like bass drum-*thwack* beat blasts out of the arena speakers right into the guitar intro to the Michael Stanley Band’s epic Midwestern anthem “My Town” cueing Joe Bergman to step out on stage.

Bryan McVay: Hailing from St. Louis, Missouri and weighing in at 195 lbs.  Representing P-B-R!  He is one half of the HOW Tag Team Champions, ORDINARY JOE! BEEEEEERRRRRRRG – MAAAAAAAAAAN!

With the HOW Tag Team title belt over his shoulder, Joe slaps people’s hands as he greets the fans along the way to the ring.  Once he reaches ringside, Bergman joins up with Barbie-Q and they continue to greet people around the front row.

Benny Newell: The man riding on the King of Wrestling’s coattails!

Joe Hoffman: Down Benny.

Benny Newell: KING OF WRESTLING DAMMIT!

Bergman then climbs up on the ring apron and leaps over the top rope into the ring. He goes to a corner turnbuckle and climbs to the top to raise a can of PBR and the HOW Tag Team Title belt to the people in Section 214.

Joe Hoffman: It looks like Joe brought some extra beer with him to ringside.

Benny Newell: Because he’s probably going to give one to his new hick friend.  Did you hear all the nice things these two idiots said about each other this week?

Joe Hoffman: Yes Benny. Both Bergman and Martin were very complementary to each other.  What’s wrong with that-

Benny works himself into a lather.

Benny Newell: WHAT’S WRONG WITH THAT? ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?  What the fuck has happened to my HOW?  What, are these two going to hug it out after the match?   Would David Black offer Mike Best a handshake after a match?  Fuck no.  What happened to two people hating each other and wanting to kill each other in the ring?  Jesus, just bring back the Embosser already and put me out of my fucking misery-

The mid-tempo backing drone with accompanying piano and outlaw Nashville guitar licks kick up and drowns out Benny’s rant.

Joe Hoffman: And here comes Zeb Martin now.  The last time he was in action was at Refueled XXIV where Zeb had a tough loss to Lucian Santangel in a real close match.

Benny Newell: Well hopefully Zeb brought his fishing pole tonight so maybe he can ‘catch’ a break.

The voice of Ben Nichols pierces through the melody as “Everything Has Changed” by Lucero blares over the sound system, and the vocal queue signals the entrance of Zeb Martin.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, weighing in tonight at 235 pounds from Comer, Georgia – ZEB!  MARRRRR-TIN!

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

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

Joe Hoffman: This should be a good one.

Benny Newell: Yeah sure. Just wake me when it’s over.  I’m going to throw up all over you if these two inbred morons shake hands after the match and Bergman offers him a beer.

Joe Hoffman: Matt Boettcher is the referee and this match is just about to get underway.

Both Martin and Bergman meet in the middle of the ring.  Brief staredown.  Then they begin to talk.

Joe Hoffman: Oooh.  Do I detect a little trash talking before the match?

Benny Newell: No.  They’re probably planning a tea party.

Hoffman rolls his eyes at Benny for the, well, we’ve probably lost count of how many times Joe has rolled his eyes at his HOW Hall of Fame broadcast partner by now.

Joe Hoffman: Okay, are you done now?

Benny Newell: Fuck off!

Martin and Bergman then motion Boettcher over and they talk with him.  Boettcher listens.  He shrugs and nods.  Boettcher turns to the timekeeper and calls for the bell.

*DING-DING*

Joe Hoffman: And thankfully we are underway.  This will be an interesting match.

Benny Newell: They’re going to slap each other in the face with silk gloves until one of them falls.

Joe Hoffman: Bergman and Martin slap hands in the middle of the ring.

Benny begins to make mock retching sounds.

Joe Hoffman: Benny?

Bergman smiles as he circles around.  Lock up – hiptoss takedown by Bergman.  Martin right back up – right hand knocks Joe off balance.  Bergman responds with a right of his own.  Martin throws another right – Bergman blocks – armdrag takedown sends Zeb down to the mat.  Martin bounces right up and retreats to a corner.  Martin smiles and we start again.

Joe Hoffman: Fast paced moves and counters to start this match.

Benny Newell: Standard vanilla shit Hoffman.  Wake me when something interesting actually happens.

Lock up again.  Martin pushes Bergman into the corner.  He uncorks a wild right hand that Joe ducks – Bergman takes a side headlock.  Martin shoots him into the ropes – Joe hangs on to the ropes and we reset again.

Collar and elbow lock up again.  Zeb uses his weight advantage to push Bergman to the ropes.  Boot to the gut by Martin.  Zeb stiffs Bergman with a jarring right hand – sets – and clotheslines Joe up and over the top rope to the floor.  Martin then grabs the top rope and slingshots himself out of the ring crushing Bergman against the barricade.

Joe Hoffman: WOW!  This is definitely not a slap fight.

Benny Newell: Okay.  I’ll admit that was actually pretty good.

Joe Hoffman: Zeb’s got a chair!

Benny Newell: Oh baby.  Do it Zeb.  DO IT!

*WHACK*  Bergman takes a chairshot to the back and his face contorts in pain.

Benny Newell: YES!

Joe Hoffman: That should be a disqualification!

Boettcher just watches the action from inside the ring as Zeb walks Bergman outside the ring and whips him hard into the barricade on the opposite side.

Joe Hoffman: But it looks like the referee’s letting that one go.

Martin rolls Bergman back into the ring.  Cover.

One . . .

Tw- Bergman emphatically kicks out.  Martin whips Bergman to the ropes.  Zeb bends down for a back drop – Bergman hits a neckbreaker.  Joe fires right hands that drive Martin to the ropes.  He takes Zeb by the arm and feints sending him across the ring – turns around – and shoots Martin through the ropes to the floor.

Joe follows.  He pulls out a table from underneath the ring and sets it up.  Then he lays a couple boots to Martin and drapes him on top of the table.

Benny Newell: OH YEAH!  TABLE!  TABLE! TABLE!

Bergman goes top turnbuckle – leaps – and drives Martin through the table.

Benny Newell: NOW THAT’S WHAT I’M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT!  MAYHEM.  BROKEN BODIES.  CRUSH. KILL.  DESTROY!

Joe Hoffman: How is that not a disqualification-

Benny Newell: Shut up Hoffhole!  I’m watching a real wrestling match here.

Bergman drags Martin out of the wreckage and back into the ring.  He hooks the leg and covers.

One . . .

Tw- Zeb forcefully kicks out.

Joe Hoffman: Whoa.  Zeb Martin kicks out after being put through a table.

Benny Newell: Had extra time to recuperate while Bergman put him back in the ring.

Boot to the gut by Bergman.  He lifts Zeb up for a suplex – Martin blocks – reverses – Abdominal Stretch.  But Zeb doesn’t have it on completely – Bergman escapes – hiptosses Martin to the mat.  Joe presses the attack and runs right into a right hand by Martin.  Fireman’s carry by Zeb into a gutbuster.  Cover.

One . . .

Tw- again Bergman kicks out.  Martin tries for another cover.

One . . .

Tw- and again Bergman kicks out.  Zeb hooks both arms and sets Joe up for a Guillotine Drop.  Bergman gets his feet down and blocks – flips Martin over him.  He dives on for the cover.

One . . .

Two – Martin kicks out and sends Bergman for a ride to the ropes.  He bends down again – Bergman leaps up and over – hooks Zeb at the waist – pulls him down into a pinning situation.

Joe Hoffman: SUNSET FLIP!

One . . .

Tw- Martin rolls and gets the shoulder up.  He rolls under the bottom rope to the floor to catch his breath.  Bergman follows.  He whips Martin over the barricade into the front row of seats causing several spectators to scram out of the way.  Then Bergman sits down next to Martin.  Someone hands both Joe and Zeb a beer and . . .

. . .

. . .

. . . they DRINK IT!

Benny Newell: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Joe Hoffman: Well, this is different.

Benny Newell: THEY’RE RUINING A PERFECTLY GOOD MATCH!

Both men tip their heads back and finish off their beers.

Benny Newell: WHAT OTHER WRESTLING COMPANY LET’S THIS KIND OF STUPID BULLSHIT HAPPEN?

They climb back over the barricade and Martin spews beer into Bergman’s face.  Boot to the ribs.  Right hand by Zeb.

Joe calls over Barbie Q and takes an empty platter from her.

*WHAP*

Joe Hoffman: That’s got to be a disqualification there!  And I can’t believe Boettcher’s not counting either of them out?

Zeb staggers backwards towards the barricade.  A helpful fan hands him an iron skillet.

*CLANG*

Benny Newell: Okay.  This is getting better again.  I didn’t know fans could bring weapons to a HOW show.

Joe Hoffman: Neither did I.

Bergman staggers into the barricade where another helpful fan hands him a kendo stick.

Joe Hoffman: Wait. Who brings a kendo stick to a wrestling show?

*THWACK*  Martin’s forehead gets busted open.  He again ends up at the barricade where yet another helpful fan hands him a cheese grater.

Joe Hoffman: Okay.  Who brings a cheese grater to a wrestling show?

Benny Newell: Shut up Joe.  I’m liking this match again.

*WHAP*  Zeb runs the cheese grater across Bergman’s forehead and he starts bleeding.   Bergman stumbles to the barricade where – yes – another helpful fan hands him a Leonard Cohen record.

Joe Hoffman: Wait.  What?

Benny Newell: Wait a minute.  Don’t do it.  Don’t-

*SMASH* The record explodes as it collides with the top of Zeb’s head.

Joe Hoffman: Benny?

Benny Newell: Dude, that record’s probably a collector’s item.

Right by Bergman.  Right by Martin.  Another right by Bergman.  Martin responds.  Bergman fakes a right and boots Zeb in the midsection.  European uppercut straightens him up – RED MIST OF DOOM!

Joe Hoffman: Red Mist!  Red Mist!

Bergman tosses a blinded Zeb back in the ring and climbs to the top of the turnbuckle.  He eyes.

Joe Hoffman: Bergman’s going for the High Angle Senton Bomb.

Benny Newell: It’s vanilla flippy bullshit time.

He flies.  But . . .

Joe Hoffman: ZEB MOVES OUT OF THE WAY!

. . . there’s no one home and Bergman lands hard on the mat.   Now Zeb to the top turnbuckle.  He sets.  He takes flight.

Joe Hoffman: Now Zeb Martin looks to hit his Top-rope single knee drop.

*SMACK*

Joe Hoffman: NO!  Bergman stuck his leg up and caught Martin flush with his boot!

Zeb spins around to the mat.  Bergman immediately wraps his arm around Zeb’s neck, wrenches back and slides his body underneath and bridges.

Joe Hoffman: DRAGON SLEEPER!

Benny Newell: Zeb’s fucked now.  If Chris Kostoff can’t break this hold, he’s sure not going to.

The Watson Mill Kid tries rocking back and forth to get loose.

Joe Hoffman: Bergman’s got the hold cinched in pretty tight.

Zeb finally taps out and that’s it.

*DING-DING-DING*

Joe Hoffman: And Joe Bergman will pick up another nice win in a surprisingly hard hitting match.

Bryan McVay back in the ring to make the official pronouncement.

Bryan McVay: Your winner at twelve minutes and fourteen seconds- ‘ORDINARY’ JOE!  BEEEEEERRRRRRRG – MAAAAAAAAAAN!

Bergman goes to the corner to pull out a PBR and raises it up along with his tag team title belt to salute the fans in Section 214, and then to the rest of the arena.

Benny Newell: Okay.  That wasn’t as horrible as I thought it was going to be-

Then Bergman grabs another can of PBR and calls out to Zeb Martin.  He tosses the can to Zeb.

Benny Newell: Oh shit.  Don’t do it-

Zeb and Joe both pop the tops of their beers and drink.

Benny Newell: Yep.  I’m going to be sick.

Then they shake hands in the ring.  Cue the sound of Benny retching profusely and vomiting off camera.

Joe Hoffman: AW DAMMIT BENNY! NOT ON ME!

Benny Newell (in between retches): Warned you.

Joe Hoffman: Well on that happy note, let’s go backstage.

Backstage.

Right outside 24K’s Manly Man Cave.

Blaire Moise: Pardon the interruption people, but I’m here wi–…

An interruption.

Andy Murray: You’re not broadcasting to Stevie pissing Wonder. They know who you’re here with.

The King of Wrestling isn’t looking so regal tonight. He’s wearing a facial expression usually reserved for those little pep talks in Mario Maurako’s office but no dopy GOD-baiting t-shirt, or even his HOW Tag Team Championship. Instead, he stands before the private suite door flanked by a couple of security guards.

Joe Hoffman: How does Murray know Stevie Wonder isn’t a High Octane fan?

Benny Newell: Never question your King, Hoffman!

Moise, who isn’t holding a Golden Microphone™ but a regular HOW one, is used to Murray’s grumpiness by now. She continues.

Blaire Moise: Andy, we are just seven days removed from a brutal assault that saw Lindsay Troy interject herself into your Refueled main event with Dan Ryan. Almost half the night has passed without any kind of reprisal from yourself or any other member of 24K. What’s the plan tonight?

Andy looks at Moise as if he were communicating with a toddler.

Andy Murray: If I had one I would definitely tell you. 100%. Just blurt it out to however many million people watching this show every week. Good job, Blaire.

He shakes his head.

Andy Murray: There is no plan. It took those fangless goobers 105 days to redeem their receipt and when they did, they went for the auld 2-on-1 ambush. I think that speaks volumes of the worms we’re dealing with here.

Blaire Moise: You technically got the “win” last week thanks to the disqualification, but it looks like the Group of Death more than left a mark…

Andy Murray: Yup. Here I hobble, a homeless pill-popping junkie with one leg. Somethingsomething Big Salty, yadda yadda, balls in a vice. I–

Murray stops himself.

Andy Murray: Sorry about that, I was playing around with the new Group of Death soundboard before you came knocking.

On closer inspection, The King isn’t putting his full weight on the crutch and has both feet planted on the ground, though it looks like he’s in considerable discomfort. 

Andy Murray: Right, that’s enough fannying around. You want soundbites, yeah?

Blaire Moise: Ideally.

Andy Murray: To the Group of Death, I say two things. Number one: fair fucking play. Trying to take out the most dangerous guy on the opposite side of War Games? Not a bad idea at all. I get it. Number two: idiots, you should have finished the job.

Joe Hoffman: They may have done if not for the rest of 24K running down!

Andy Murray: I was mad for a while. Of course I was! I had outwrestled, outfought, outsmarted, and outwitted that slug until his wretched cunt sister-in-law showed her face. LT has already proven herself less than useless against 24K in the ring. It’s whatever. A few years ago, I might have gone straight for their throats tonight, but look at this thing…

Murray waggles the crutch around, as if anybody watching hadn’t already seen it.

Andy Murray: I’m a lot of things, Blaire, but dumb isn’t one of them. Getting lairy with the Group of Death on one leg? I don’t think that would end in my favour. No, I’m letting them have this “victory.” I’m gonna let them bask for a couple of weeks. I’ll allow them to feel good about themselves for a bit, let Daniel and Lindsay enjoy believing that they matter again, knowing that War Games is only a few weeks away…

He pauses.

Andy Murray: And when that cage door shuts, all of them are fucked. Beef is nothing when you run a slaughterhouse. At War Games, I’ll fuck the Group of Death dead. 

Murray looks like he’s about to turn and hobble away but reaches into his pocket instead.

Andy Murray: Oh, speaking of fucking things dead…

Out comes the little pill bottle that ‘The Ego Buster’ left for him last week. Andy screws up his face.

Andy Murray: Can you give these back to Daniel for me? I can’t imagine Mrs. Ryan was best pleased when the silly prick got his pills mixed up and accidentally gave his blue ones away last week. Cheers.

Andy flicks the bottle towards Moise, who has little choice but to catch it. She grimaces as The King limps back into the 24K suite and slams the door behind him.

Joe Hoffman: So no immediate revenge from Murray tonight. It looks like he’s content to wait it out until War Games.

Benny Newell: Smart! That’s why he’s the goddamn King!

Can you believe it’s been a year? This is the SECOND War Games of this era! 

As we come back from commercial we see the Hall of Fame team ready for the next match up.

Joe Hoffman: Up next, we’ve got match with a lot of history, both old and new. The eGG Bandits, tonight represented by Doozer and Bobby Dean, take on the Group of Death, represented by Dan Ryan and ICON Champion Michael Lee Best. This one could be a big one, folks.

Benny Newell: Eggs and hubris, Joe. This match is about eggs and hubris, and I’m not in the mood for breakfast.

Joe Hoffman: If you can tell me what the word hubris means, I will give you five hundred dollars, cash.

Benny Newell: Fuck you, Joe. It means that someone is gonna end up on a coma tonight, because pro wrestling loves callbacks and I’m gonna be disappointed if none of these morons end up eating through a tube by the end of it.

Joe Hoffman: You are very, very incorrect, Benny.

Benny Newell: Not caring for you hubris, Joe.

As Benny and Joe continue to argue, Bryan McVay starts his match introductions.

Bryan McVay: Tonight’s match up is scheduled for ONE FALL, with a thirty minute time limit.

As McVay finishes the introduction to the match the HOV starts up and an image of an egg cracking into a skillet is see as…..

“Bandit-Struck” by AC/DC begins to play over the PA system causing the crowd to come alive with chants of eGG.

Joe Hoffman: Always the fan favorites wherever they go.

Benny Newell: Not in Big Buff’s fucking man cave they aren’t, Joe. Scrambled dickheads and hard boiled douchebags.

Joe Hoffman: Whether you like them or not, tonight’s match will be a match that Mario Maurako is watching for sure. This could have implications for the Tag Team division.

Benny Newell: Just don’t put suspenders on them and they’ll be fine.

The lights turn yellow and as the music begins to build Doozer and Bobby Dean make their way onto the stage.

Bryan McVay: Introducing first, weighing in at a combined weight of 503 lbs….BEAUTIFUL! BOBBY! DEEEEEEEAAAAAAN! DOOOOOOOOZEEEEERRRRR! THE! EEEEEEEEGGGG! BAAAAAAAAAANDDDDDIIIIIIIITTTTTTSSSSSSSS!

Doozer reaches into his back pocket and produces a yolk colored rally towel with the eGG Bandit’s logo on it before saluting the crowd when Bobby Dean snatches the towel from Dooze and begins to wipe the sweat off of his face as he checks his pulse.

Benny Newell: Bobby may be having a fucking stroke before this match even starts Hoffman.

Joe Hoffman: He’s still trying to get into ring shape, folks, but he’s making great progress.

Benny Newell: Fuck his stomach, should have his whole kitchen stapled.

Doozer sprints to the ring and slides under the bottom rope as Bobby slowly power walks after him and takes a second to catch his breath before climbing the steps to enter the ring.

The lights go out and a dual-spotlight makes an encircling pattern on the entrance area as the opening riff of

“Zero” by The Smashing Pumpkins begins to play. When the riff audio kicks it up a notch, Dan Ryan steps out and pauses, looking into the audience.

Bryan McVay: And their opponents, introducing first from Houston, Tx and weighing in at 305 lbs….and representing the GROUP! OF DEATH!….DAAAAAAN! RYYYYYYAAAAAANNNNNNN!

Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan is all business tonight.

Benny Newell: How can you tell Hoffman? Isn’t that his normal expression?

Dad, how come nobody likes me? 

Cause you’re a mothafuckaaaaaaaaaaaa…

Bryan McVay: And his partner, from Chicago, IL and weighing in at 235 lbs….and representing the GROUP! OF DEATH…MICHAEL! LEE! BEEEEEEEESSSSTTTT!

The head bopping intro to “Motherfucker” by Hopsin begins to slap over the sound system, heralding the arrival of the SON OF GOD, Michael Lee Best. The always polarizing wrestling veteran steps out slowly onto the stage, making his way toward the ramp. He holds the HOW ICON Championship into the air on the stage, staring out into the crowd as he bobs his head to the sweet jams of his own entrance music.

Benny Newell: Meh, shaddup.

Joe Hoffman: What?

Benny Newell: Sorry, smelled toast. Or maybe I’m just underwhelmed.

Joe Hoffman: Well, this one shouldn’t be underwhelming for the rest of us. At the Lethal Lottery, Mike Best hospitalized Bobby Dean and potentially changed the course of his career. This is the meeting of these two men since Bobby was released, and I have to imagine he’s out for blood tonight.

Mike and Dan look at one another and nod before heading down the ramp as pyro blasts behind them. As they saunter toward the ring, Mike makes a big show of making sure the camera gets a good zoomed in shot as he flips the bird, displaying his Hall of Fame ring prominently. As they approach the apron, they roll under the bottom rope and head towards their corner as Dan Ryan climbs the nearest turnbuckle, keeping his arms down and smirking into the crowd while Michael is stretching and preparing for the beginning of the match as the music begins to quiet and fade away.

Joe Hoffman: Mike Best grew up idolizing Dan Ryan and it was Mike who defeated Dan Ryan to reclaim the ICON championship.

Benny Newell: The Group of Death is basically just a team full of people who are good at losing the ICON Title. Prove me wrong.

Boettcher goes over the rules with both teams and signals for the bell.

Ding Ding Ding

Joe Hoffman: And here we go.

It looks like Mike Best and Bobby Dean are going to be starting the match for their teams here tonight as they remain in the ring when the bell sounds. Mike and Bobby come out of their respective corners and the usual jovial Bobby Dean has a look of determination and focus tonight as he stares daggers into Mike Best as Mike simply smirks at Bobby.

Joe Hoffman: Bobby looks focused here tonight Benny.

Benny Newell: He’s probably holding in a fart.

Bobby and Mike circle one another and Mike begins to taunt Bobby as he slaps his elbows.

Mike Best: Feeling sleepy, Bobbo?

Mike yells as he continues to egg on the Bandit.

Joe Hoffman: Looks as if Mike is trying to get under the shell of Bobby Dean since Mike concussed Bobby with those elbows last time they faced one another.

Benny Newell: Can’t make an ICON omelet without cracking some eGG Bandits. DRINK!

The taunting angers the Beautiful One as he lunges forward to lock up with Mike, but the SON of GOD easily avoids the attempt. Bobby continues to go after Mike, but the Hall of Famer avoids each attempt with his speed and it’s beginning to wear down Bobby.

Joe Hoffman: Mike using his speed to avoid Bobby and it looks like Bobby is so focused on grabbing him it’s starting to gas him.

Benny Newell: Mike’s speed is that of someone who is really five foot and six inches Hoffman……or so I’ve been told.

Mike ducks under another lock up attempt and this time as Bobby moves he’s more and more sluggish and sweat is pouring down his face and as he turns he find Mike he is suddenly staggered by a Superman punch to the face before being sent back to his corner by a front kick.

Joe Hoffman: That Superman punch caught Bobby by surprise.

Benny Newell: Maybe he’d have done better if it was a knuckle sandwich.

As soon as Bobby lands in his corner Doozer tags himself in takes down an unsuspecting Mike Best with a clothesline. Mike scrambles to his feet only to get knocked back down by another clothesline. Doozer picks up Mike who rakes the eyes. Mike takes a moment to regain his whereabouts and goes to clothesline Doozer, but Doozer avoids the attack and counters with a spinout powerbomb.

One.

Two.

Kickout.

Joe Hoffman: Doozer is on point right tonight.

Benny Newell: For now Hoffman.

Doozer puts the boots to Mike before picking him up and delivering a Fisherman Buster. Cover.

One.

Two.

Thr….

No!

Joe Hoffman: Another near fall on Mike Best.

Benny Newell: Mike is just playing opossum Hoffman.

Doozer yanks Mike to his feet and sends him into his corner and tags in Bobby Dean and Doozer yells at Dean to climb the ropes.

Joe Hoffman: Bobby looks like he just seen a ghost with that order from Doozer.

Benny Newell: He is scared of heights Hoffman.

Joe Hoffman: It’s the bottom rope Benny.

Benny Newell: You’re about to be scared of my fist when it collides with his face.

After a thousand Hail Mary’s, Bobby climbs onto the Bobby rope and jumps…..more like he falls forward onto Mike.

One.

Two.

Thre….

NO!

Joe Hoffman: Mike gets a foot on the ropes.

Benny Newell: Someone call the doctors! Mike might be dead!

As Bobby Dean tries to push himself up, a man we haven’t seen in this match makes his felt as he sends Doozer flying to the outside with a Texas sized lariat, but the Ego Buster isn’t finished as he helps Bobby Dean to his feet by placing him under his legs and lifting him high into the to deliver….

Joe Hoffman: HUMILITY BOMB!

Benny Newell: DAN RYAN JUST KILLED BOBBY DEAN! I WON MY BET! FUCK YEAH!

Dan takes a moment to admire his handiwork before heading back towards his corner and reaches out a hand to Mike who has begun to crawl his way.

Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan is like a shark smelling blood.

Benny Newell: He’s gonna need a bigger boat. DRINK!

Mike tags in Dan, who takes his time to enter the ring as Bobby Dean hasn’t moved since he’s soul was taken by the Ego Buster.

Joe Hoffman: Dan in no hurry to pin Bobby Dean.

Benny Newell: Would you be Hoffman when you took out both of your opponents in a matter of seconds?

Dan pulls Bobby from the corner and covers Dean.

One.

Two.

Three.

NO!

Joe Hoffman: DOOZER WITH THE SAVE!

Benny Newell: Dammit!

Doozer attacks Dan Ryan with rights and lefts as the former ICON champion does his best to cover up only to be saved by the official who pulls Doozer off of him and sends him back to his corner. Ryan gets to his feet and he and Doozer exchange choice words before he picks up Bobby Dean and wakes up the sleeping mammoth with a giant chop to the chest.

Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Benny Newell: No it’s DRINK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not Woo!

Ryan lands another chop before he whips Bobby into the ropes and as Bobby bounces off of them he ducks down and delivers a back body drop.

Joe Hoffman: Did you see the height on that back body drop Benny?

Benny Newell: Fucking right I did.

Dan stalks his prey like a big game hunter and reaches down to pick up his Texas brethren, but the Beautiful One has other ideas as he rakes the eyes and delivers a massive…….

Joe Hoffman: STANDING DROPKICK!

The dropkick takes Ryan off of his feet and has Bobby lays in the ring gasping for air he is close enough for Doozer to reach over the ropes and make a tag.

Benny Newell: Look out Dan!

Doozer immediately mounts Dan Ryan and begins to rain down a flurry of right hands.

Joe Hoffman: Doozer is like a man possessed! He’s taken it to Mike Best and Dan Ryan all night.

Benny Newell: Doozer is a fucking jackal Hoffman. Trying to pick the bones of Bobby Dean’s accomplishments.

Doozer quits his assault and begins yelling at the crowd who return the favor fueling him with protein energy. Doozer grabs Dan and brings him to his feet and whips him.

Joe Hoffman: Reversal by Dan Ryan.

Doozer’s back hits the corner hard and Dan charges into the corner like a bull seeing red, but Dooze is able to avoid the shoulder tackle and as Dan backs out of the corner holding his shoulder he leaps off the middle rope and delivers a diving leg drop to the back of Ryan’s neck.

Joe Hoffman: Famouser by Doozer.

Benny Newell: That hooker last night had a Fame-Ass.

Doozer shoots the half and hooks the leg.

One.

Kickout.

Joe Hoffman: Not even a count of two.

Benny Newell: Did you expect anything different?

Doozer gets to his feet but gets turned inside out from a Dan Ryan clothesline.

Benny Newell: Looks like Doozer’s second occupation as a crash test dummy was shown as he tested the impact of that clothesline.

Ryan sees Dean leaning on the ropes and knocks him down with a running boot before turning his attention back to Doozer.

Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan looking to end it here.

Ryan places Doozer between his legs and lifts him into the air.

Benny Newell: That’s all she wrote….the fuck?

Apparently there is some fight left in Doozer as he begins punching Ryan.

Joe Hoffman: Ryan is staggering Benny.

Benny Newell: I stagger all the time after the show ends, Dan will be fine.

Each punch loosens Dan’s grip but it sends them both closer to the Group of Death corner. Dan hits the corner and Mike slaps his back.

TAG!

Dan lets out a primal yell as he regains control and goes to deliver a running Humility Bomb.

Joe Hoffman: HURRICANRANA REVERSAL BY DOOZER!

Benny Newell: Fucking flippy shit! Drink!

As Doozer turns around he gets dilled in the face by a running knee.

Joe Hoffman: I KNEED A HERO!

Cover.

One.

Two.

Three.

Benny Newell: I NEED A DRINK!

Boettcher signals for the bell.

Bryan McVay: And your winners by pinfall, DAAAAAAN! RYYYYYYAAAAAANNNNNNN!…MICHAEL! LEE! BEEEEEEEESSSSTTTT! THE GROUP! OF! DEEEEEEAAAAAATH!

Boettcher raises both of the victors’ hands into the air as Mike holds his prized ICON championship in the air as well as we head backstage.

It’s a long, lonely walk from GoD’s dressing room to Gorilla, and even in this solitude Lindsay Troy still can’t quiet the noise inside her head. All the planning, all the prep, all the things about Max Kael that she’s carefully accounted for, could amount to nothing. Ultimately, that’s what the LSD division is about: unpredictability, uneasiness, and violence.

Lindsay arrives at her destination, Max nowhere to be found, and posts up against a wall. She fiddles with her arm tape and waits, waiting for the signal, her music to hit, the crowd explosion, and her mind to erase.

But we’re not quite at that point yet.

Voice: (off-camera) LT.

Troy whips her head to the left and sees “The King of Extreme,” Eli Flair, striding slowly toward her.

Lindsay Troy: Well, this is a surprise.

He stops, close enough to be familiar but not so close as to be threatening.

Eli Flair: Seems t’be the order’a the day in this place. Surprise.

And he extends a hand.

Lindsay looks at the offering, and considers the gesture. After almost too long to be considered polite, she reciprocates and shakes. Even as she reaches, Eli starts to laugh to himself.

Lindsay Troy: What brings you calling before I go headlong into the fray?

Eli Flair: Wow. This place ain’t big on trust, is it? The kid’s watchin’ the show like a hawk, and it dawned on me that I ain’t said hello to you or the big man yet, and after two decades I figured that’s the least I could do.

Lindsay Troy: I figure she is. I know she still wants what I’m getting a crack at tonight. Amongst other things.

Eli nods, and he leans against the wall, arms crossed.

Eli Flair: You ain’t wrong, but it’s not all about you. She’s not booked, but she’s here – and outside the ring, that’s pretty much the most important thing you can do. Shit, preachin’ the converted, you know that.

He gestures towards Lindsay, and she nods.

Eli Flair: But she’ll get it one’a these days. Man, you should’ve seen the look on her face when I said I was lookin’ for ya.

Now, it was the Queen’s turn to laugh. And like Eli a moment ago, she couldn’t help it. Because despite the Industry’s dismantling, and all the fall-out since, it’s hard for her to not recognize how very old-school Eli still is, and how much MJ still has to learn.

Lindsay Troy: Bet that went over well.

Eli Flair: Bruh. That kid is doomed. She’s got my temper combined with her mom’s short fuse.

Lindsay lifts her eyebrow at that thought – she’s known MJ’s mom almost as long as she’s known Eli.

Eli Flair: Ya did fuck up, though, kiddo… and sooner or later, the bill’s gonna come due. But I know the difference between business and personal, and I know it was just business. That’s why I’m standin’ here – business shouldn’t get in the way of friendship.

He gestures vaguely in the direction of the arena.

Eli Flair: She doesn’t get the difference yet.

Lindsay Troy: It shouldn’t. And you’re right, it was business. And I’m expecting her, and Jack, to come a’callin’. Thing is though, E, you and I both know MJ poppin’ her mouth off was gonna get her in trouble, because I’ve made my coins doing that for a long, long time. And when she does come, I already know it’s gonna be both business andpersonal. Like you said…she doesn’t get the difference yet.

Eli nods thoughtfully.

Eli Flair: Never said she was blameless, but sometimes you need t’learn a lesson the hard way. Anyways, good luck, Lindz. For what it’s worth, I hope ya beat the guy.

Lindsay Troy: You aren’t the only one.

The camera cuts to commercial.

Rest fucking assured, the #MACHINE rolls on.

We return ringside to Joe Hoffman and Benny Newell, Joe beaming toward the camera with unparalleled professionalism while Benny appears to be admiring an unopened bottle of WhistlePig Whiskey. 

Joe Hoffman: It’s time folks, for our Main Event of the evening and Benny, I think you can agree with me it promises nothing short of absolute carnage. 

Benny Newell: Hoffman Max gave me this WhistlePig and while he might be a fucking idiot he’s a fucking idiot with good taste in whiskey. 

Joe Hoffman: Max gave you a bottle of WhistlePig? That was uncharacteristically nice of Max..

Benny Newell: Fuck it, I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth, Hoffman! Give me a moment, talk about the match or whatever you do.

Benny opens the bottle and begins smelling the amber liquid within as Joe shakes his head, his eyes returning to the camera.

Joe Hoffman: Tonight’s main event features the Mother of the Group of Death, Lindsay Troy challenging fellow Group of Death member, LSD Champion Maximillian Wilhelm Kael. Benny, since you’re currently good with Max do you want to list off the rest of his names?

Benny Newell: Fuck no!

Joe Hoffman I didn’t think so. The history between Lindsay Troy and Max Kael has been tumultuous over the last few weeks with the LSD Champion growing distant for his supposed team mates. This will be the second encounter between these two, their first encounter in the semi-finales of the LBI tournament with Max Kael coming out victorious. Troy will be looking to even up the score while claiming the LSD Championship. Coming off her big win over Hollywood last week does the Queen of Wrestling have what it takes to knock the Dictator from his LSD Throne?

Knocking back the bottle Benny takes a deep pull from the bottle before he slams it down with a satisfied sigh.

Benny Newell: ..fuuuuck that’s smooth. Max wins.

Joe Hoffman: That’s all?

Benny Newell: No, wait..

Letting out a massive belch followed by a wet, shart Benny slowly nods to himself.

Benny Newell: ..okay, I’m done. DRINK!

Joe Hoffman: Okay then, let’s toss it up to Bryan McVay in the ring.. Can someone bring over some paper towels and the febreze?  

We cut to the ring where Bryan McVay is standing by with referee Joel Hortega. 

Bryan McVay: Ladies and Gentlemen this is Refueled XXVIII’s Main Event. For the duration of this match the Group of Death is BANNED from ringside! 

Joe Hoffman: The entire Group of Death is now apparently banned from ringside?

Benny Newell: ..uh.. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about this so.. FUCK’EM! 

The crowd murmurs quietly at the announcement that the rest of the Group of Death being unable participate in the match. 

Bryan McVay: The Main Event will be a Two Out Of Three Falls Match. The first fall will be decided by pinfall of submission. The second will be a Tables Match where an opponent must be driven through a table to score the fall. Should there be a tie the final decision will be fought until Falls Count Anywhere rules.

As McVay tallies off the different stipulations the crowd grows loud with the prospect of violence. Both Lindsay Troy and Max Kael renown in their own circles for their capacity for ultra violence. 

Bryan McVay: Introducing the Challenger..

“My World Now” by 7KingZ thrums out over the AllState Arena sound system. Lindsay Troy slowly appears from behind a wall of pyro and cannon blasts as the fans welcome Lindsay with the kind of ominous, bloodthirsty joy that the High Octane Faithful offer those walking into a Lee Best presentation of violence. Instead of her normal attire she is dressed in a customized Keebler Elf G.o.D. shirt, each elf dressed in their own G.o.D. shirt. Her arms are taped up and some G.o.D. logoed pants. 

Bryan McVay: Hailing from Tampa, Flordia.. Standing at six foot three inches and weighing in at one hundred and ninety five pounds.. LIIIIIIIINDSAAAAAY TROOOOOOOOY!

There is a strong pop as she moves across the stage and down the ramp with purpose. She knows as much as you can tell that the crowd isn’t cheering for Lindsay Troy, they’re cheering for what is about to happen. Troy doesn’t let it get to her as she looks dismissively at the fans around her, a look of disgust breaking her expression occasionally before falling back into calm focus. 

Joe Hoffman: Lindsay Troy has got a mountain to climb tonight but if she can the LSD Championship can be hers. At any moment Lindsay Troy could be the most dominant star in High Octane Wrestling, did that domination begin with Hollywood last week? 

Benny Newell: Fuck me, Hoffman, do you hear these people? Stop licking Lindsay’s asshole like she threw an extra fifty at you!

Joe Hoffman: I just want people to know that I do not lick asshole, or as the kids are calling it, the Black Kiss. 

Troy hops up onto the apron of the ring, her hands pulling the ropes open as she slides in. She easily runs up the turnbuckle and poses, her arms in the air as her expression remains intense. In the middle of her pose the arena lights die out and the stage flickers with red and blue lights. A heavy fog rolls out of the entrance shrouding the stage area in a thick fog.

Bryan McVay: Introducing the Champion..

“Shit Just Got Real” by De Antwoord feat. Sen Dog begins to boom out over the sound system as the same blood hungry fans who popped for Lindsay pop once again for the LSD Champion. A powerful fan parts the fog, blowing it completely away as Maximillian Wilhelm Kael appears standing on the stage with the LSD Championship slung over his shoulder. His electronic blue eye flickers brightly as a grim smile is stretched across his face. He appears to be dressed in black swat gear while holding a large black duffle bag in one hand. 

Bryan McVay: Hailing from Arkham, Massachusetts standing at six foot four inches and weighing in at two hundred and thirty six pounds.. He is your LSD Champion.. MAAAAXIMILLIAN WIIILLLLHELM KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEL!

Max begins to lazily saunter to the ring with an arrogant stride, his hips holding a surprising amount of swagger. His eyes remain locked on Lindsay Troy who returns his gaze without fear. Reaching the ring Max slowly walks up the steps, his smile stretching wider as he gets closer to Lindsay. He drops the duffle bag on the outside of the ring while pointing at Lindsay’s shirt with a laugh. Slipping between the ropes Max pulls the title off his shoulder and tosses it to Joel Hortega. He steps to the middle of the ring with an amused look on his face.  

Joe Hoffman: Max appears amused by Lindsay’s elf shirt.. For those of you who are new to High Octane Wrestling just.. Ask a friend whose been watching for a long time but the long and the short of it, there was a time when Max had a fear of the Keebler Elves. We don’t have enough time to really get into the hows and whys just.. Look it up later.

Benny Newell: Literally nobody is going to look that shit that up. 

Joe Hoffman: I’m an optimist, Benny, I can’t help it. You can check it all out on High Octane Television, old shows uploaded every week! If you haven’t seen it before it’s new to you! 

Benny Newell: Nice shill, DRINK!

McVay makes his way out of the ring with the LSD Championship as Max and Lindsay appear to exchange a few words, apparently about the shirt as Max gestures to it with a smirk on his face. As they talk Joel Hortega signals for the bell.

DING DING DING!

Max extends a hand to Lindsay, his face earnest as he nods toward her. The crowd is weirdly incensed by the idea that Max Kael would shake someone’s hand before a match and boo though Max seems to ignore it. Lindsay regards Max with a distrustful look of caution before reaching out to shake his hand. 

Joe Hoffman: Surprising star to the match, Max Kael trying to be a good sport?

Benny Newell: I got a gift this week so I guess he’s a cool guy. I’m not going to lie, I have whiskey dick for this whiskey Hoffman. Like a full alcoholic arousal for this bottle, I’m saying I’d fuck this whiskey.

Joe Hoffman: You’re drunk.

Benny Newell: You’re sober and that’s why none of the other bottles want to fuck you.

Joe Hoffman: So the handshake, remember that? It’s still happening. 

The two shake very slowly before the tension passes. Both smile at each other before they both throw a kick at the same time, doubling forward and head butting each other in the process. Still, neither releases the handshake, instead they both clamp down in a sudden test of strength and ego.

Being taller Max leans forward, his boney fingers tightening around Troy’s while twisting his hand. He uses his height advantage to push down on her, a cruel smirk crawling across his face. Lindsay grinds her teeth and returns the grip, her bicep flexing as she asserts her own grip. With a growl she pushes forward with her feet as Max’s smirk melted into surprise, his grip faltering as he was pushed backwards by Troy’s show of strength. 

In desperation Max attempts to gouge her eyes with his other hand. Lindsay has him well scouted however and she catches his incoming hand in another handshake. Max’s eyes go wide as he shakes his head begging Lindsay not to hurt him. 

Having both of his lanky arms caught up in handshakes Lindsay tightens her grip causing Max to hop up and down on both feet as he cries out in pain. With his guard down Troy smashes her skull into the side left side of Max’s face, the part that was still made of flesh and bone. Stunned, Max’s head jolts back as his blue eye begins to well with tears. A stiff knee to the midsection doubles him back over as Troy uses her power and leverage to suplex Max, still in a double handshake, over her, bridging for a pin attempt!

Joe Hoffman: The power of Lindsay Troy as she suplexes Max out of a double handshake into a bridge!

UNO!

Kickout!

Benny Newell: Fucking clever, sure, but what did it get her? A one count?! Are we getting excited about one counts now!? 

Finally releasing Max’s hands, Troy floats smoothly back up to her feet before sending in a stiff kick to Max’s ribs, driving the air out of the champion’s chest. Max curls up instinctively as Lindsay continues to hammer him with a series of savage kicks. With no other recourse Max scrambles toward the edge of the ring, pulling himself to the outside of the ring where he collapses to the group. 

He has little time to recover as Troy is hot on his heels, sliding out behind him where she continues to pepper him with kicks much to the joy of the crowd who cheer on the attack. Pulling him up by his hair she whips him into the nearby barricade causing his body to smash through it. Joel Hortega screams in Spanish for Lindsay to return to the ring however she ignores him much to the joy of the audience. 

Joe Hoffman: The crowd here has been looking forward to this match ever since it was announced last week, they just know how far these too will go, how much they are willing to put each other and themselves through. 

Benny Newell: Violence addicts, Hoffman, did you know that google searches for snuff film and some High Octane Wrestling matches circulate in the same crowds?! HOW is part of a sadistic sexual fetish!

Joe Hoffman: I don’t.. Even.. Max Kael have trouble getting off the ground as it’s been all Lindsay Troy!

As Max slowly began to drag himself up from the wreckage Lindsay gracefully sails through the air smashing a knee into the side of his head with a loud crack. Max’s body gets spun around as he gets a free spinal adjustment before collapsing in a heap once again. Troy immediately rises to her feet with a savage roar, her hands held up as the crowd collectively howl their approval. 

She doesn’t let the moment keep her for long as he returns her attention to Max, snatching him up, dragging him by his hair toward the ring before driving his head into the ring pole, his head making a weird ringing noise. He suddenly snaps back up, a demented smile on his face as he points to the a part of his face where the skin has ripped away to reveal a shiny piece of metal. 

Lindsay shrugs with an unimpressed roll of the eyes before she kicks him square in the dick. 

Joe Hoffman: Lindsay Troy with the low blow and I don’t know if I agree with it but you can’t argue with the effectiveness.

Benny Newell: Oh no, poor Max! Does that sound convincing? If he is going to do this all the time I’m okay with sucking his dick. DRINK!

A sad face washes over Max as his eyebrows arch up, a pained frown stabbed across his face. His knees buckle as he begins to fall forward only for Troy to slam her knee into his jaw, once again giving Max a free spine adjustment, like all good friends do. Instead of allowing Max to fall back, however, she rolls him into the ring and hooks him into a pin!

UNO!

DOS!

Kickout!

Max is able to thrust his shoulder up well before the three though as he comes up a small trickle of blood can be seen running down the gash from the ringpost. Lindsay mounts Max and begins to reign down a flurry of forearm strikes. Covering up as best he can, Max kicks his leg over the bottom rope forcing Hortega to intercede on his behalf by threatening Lindsay with a five count. As he reaches the four count Lindsay finally disengages much to the fans’ chagrin who boo Hortega. 

Attempting to shake the cobwebs free Max uses the ropes to pull himself up to his feet. He eyes Lindsay cautiously as he slowly begins to circle her. The two move to the center of the ring where they lock up, Max once again using his height and weight advantage to push down on Lindsay. Troy uses Max’s tactic against him, dropping back and raising her knee aiming to drive it once again into Max’s chin. The LSD Champion has it scouted, however, and he blocks with his own knee before grabbing a handful of Troy’s hair, yanking her down hard. 

Joe Hoffman: A smart counter there by Max who is a deceptively skilled tactician in the ring.

Benny Newell: Hoffman he blocked a fucking knee. If you can’t block a fucking knee what the fuck are you doing fighting anyone?!

Joe Hoffman: Whiskey?

Benny Newell: Do you know the odds of actually blocking a knee from Lindsay Troy? That’s like hitting a home run against a world class pitcher, so Mikey it’s Unlikely! 

Hortega admonishes Max in Spanish though the Lord Supreme Dictator doesn’t seem to care making a dismissive gesture with his hand. Troy is quick to roll toward the edge of the ring to escape Max who chases her with a series of vicious stomps. Reaching the ropes she manages to pull herself to the outside before her head is crushed beneath Max’s boot. Landing on her feet she immediately turns to grab Max’s foot. Unfortunately Max’s foot does not move as he braces himself using the ropes and instead sweeps his other foot forward kicking Lindsay’s hand and wrist hard. 

Pulling away Lindsay holds her hand while Max slithers out behind her, a steady flow of blood now running down the left side of his brow. He smashes an elbow into the back of Lindsay’s head driving her down to the ground before kicking her hard across the ribs with a sickening slap. The crowd lets out a collective “OOOO” before falling back into a frenzied applause. 

Tearing her up off the ground by her hair Max yanks her head into the side of the ring with a thud, Lindsay crumbling to the floor of the AllState Arena. Pulling her up by the back of the Keebler Elf shirt Max rolls her into the ring before administering a nerve pitch. With his free arm he drives the point of his elbow across her right upper trapezius. He cranks back on his nerve pinch as Troy lets out a pained cry, her lips pulled back in a bitter grimace. 

Joe Hoffman: Max isn’t likely to win with this move but it’s painful and it’s designed to grind down Lindsay. 

Benny Newell: That’s not just a Nerve Pinch, that’s the.. M..muh.. Max Kaelerve pinch?

Joe Hoffman: I’m sure there’s some kind of participation reward, Benny. 

Benny Newell: Fuck you, Hoffman. DRINK!

A look of annoyance begins to set on Troy’s face as Max tightens his grip on her shoulder. Finally Max drives a knee into the small of Lindsay’s back and releases the hold with a smug expression. He yanks Troy back up to her feet, once again holding her by her hair as he jams a finger in her face, taunting her directly. 

CRACK!

With a quickness Lindsay fires a knife edged chop across Max’s chest causing him to release his grip on her hair.

CRACK!

Another chop lights up Max’s chest as he stumbles back. Troy hits the ropes and flies forward a huge clothesline that takes the LSD Champion off his feet and down hard on the mat. He stumbles back up to his feet slightly dazed before he turns back to Lindsay who fires off a kick to his midsection. The crafty champion catches the kick with a cocky look on his face.

THUD!

Like turning on a light Lindsay steps into a wicked enziguri, the light in Max’s eye dimming, both literally and figuratively. He seems to stagger forward on his feet, his knees buckling while his head twitches slightly. Pushing forward Lindsay charges forward only to eat the business head of a vicious, bloody headbutt. Max hits the ropes, moving past Linday before blind siding her with a horrific looking spinning forearm smash to the back of the head!

Joe Hoffman: Max just drilled Lindsay Troy with the Gaslighter! 

Benny Newell: I feel like Lindsay Troy’s probably been gaslit her entire life. 

Max collapses to the ground holding his own head as both wrestlers are down as the crowd goes crazy. Both struggle to get to their feet however it is Max who wins the race, charging toward Lindsay smashing her once again with a headbutt before kicking her in the gut. He hoists her up into his own variation on the Gotch Piledriver, driving her head down into the mat!

Joe Hoffman: He followed it up with his iMperial Star Destroyer! 

The LSD Champion lazily draps himself over Troy’s limp body as Hortega gets into position for the pin.

UNO!

DOS!

KICKOUT!

Troy pops her hip and throws her shoulder up well before the three. Incensed that she kicked out Max glares down at her, grabbing her hair with a savage expression. He hoists her up to her feet and slaps her hard across the face before dropping her with the Weapon of Max Destruction! 

Hooking the leg Max smuggly stares at the fans who roar in approval of the painful looking shoulder jawbreaker. Hortega drops into position..

Joe Hoffman: Weapon of Max Destruction! He landed it perfectly, this should be it!

Benny Newell: GET ON IT HORTEGA!

UNO!

DOS!

TRE-KICKOUT!

Benny Newell: BULLSHIT!

Joe Hoffman: Lindsay Troy kicks out of the Weapon of Max Destruction! He can’t believe it, the crowd can’t believe it! 

Jumping to his feet in rage Max screams in the face of Joel Hortega as the crowd goes absolutely insane as Lindsay Troy manages to kick out of the WMD! Max practically chases Hortega out of the ring as he rages that Lindsay Troy kicked out of the WMD, his face is almost as red as the blood running down his face. Pulling at his hair Max returns to Lindsay Troy, grabbing her back up to her feet as he prepares to hit another MWD!

Troy manages to reverse the WMD into a reverse Russian Leg Sweep driving Max face first into the ring mat! Suddenly energized as the crowd rallies behind her, once again enjoying both her and Max beating the shit out of each other rather than because they actually like either of them, Troy takes to the ropes. The LSD champion wobbles up to his knees just in time to meet a pair of knees known as the Raynes of Castamere!

Joe Hoffman: Lindsay Troy is on fire! She just leveled the LSD Champion with the Raynes of Castamere! 

Benny Newell: Wait, what NO, I wasn’t paying attention what the fuck just happened!?

Another explosion from the crowd as Troy wastes no time applying the Key to the Kingdom in the middle of the ring!

Joe Hoffman: She’s got the Key to the Kingdom locked in with Max dead center of the ring! 

Benny Newell: NO! NO!

Max’s face is torn with pain as he screams, both his arms and legs trapped by Lindsay Troy. Turning in all directions and seeing the futility of his situation Max immediately submits.

WINNER OF THE FIRST FALL VIA SUBMISSION: LINDSAY TROY

DING DING DING!

Joe Hoffman: Lindsay Troy just tapped Max Kael in the center of the ring! That’s the second person this year to tap the LSD Champion! Lindsay Troy has scored the literal first blood!

Benny Newell: FUCK NO! Someone get that bitch Lindsey Troy off Max Kael! 

Joe Hoffman: It’s Lindsay.

Benny Newell: That’s what I said, Lindsey!

Joe Hoffman: Lindsay. LindsAy, with an A not an E. 

Benny Newell: ..fuck off, dickhead. DRINK!

The next phase of the match begins however Lindsay has not released the Key to the Kingdom! Max howls in pain slowly begin to diminish as she drains the life out of him. Hortega checks on Max who has faded into being completely unresponsive. 

Finally, after what seemed like several minutes of torture Lindsay Troy releases the hold. Max’s body lays motionless in the middle of the ring, his mechanical blue eye having grown dark, the light gone. Troy kicks Max hard in the side, his body unresponsive, lifeless. 

Joe Hoffman: Well with no DQ rules Lindsay Troy just wore the LSD Champion down and I think that’s it! 

Benny Newell: Fuck her! That wasn’t fair! Max started out in the submission! Hortega is an awful referee! AWFUL!

Satisfied Troy immediately rolls out of the ring and pulls out a table, shoving it under the bottom ring. The crowd begins to rumble excitedly as she sets the table up in the nearby corner. She then drags the near lifeless body of Max Kael over, propping him up before she moves to the other side of the ring. She measures Max carefully before charging forward!

CRASH!

At the last moment someone grabs Max, pulling him out of harm’s way as Lindsay Troy drives herself through the table, smashing through it and striking the pole between the top and middle turnbuckle! The arena fills with boos as the Tables portion of the 2 out of 3 falls match comes to a close so quickly. 

Joe Hoffman: Someone just pulled Max to safety.. It’s MJF!

Benny Newell: I didn’t even notice her there! She just got lost in the shuffle, it’s like her special fucking power!

Joe Hoffman: MJF just saved Max Kael and stole Lindsay Troy’s chance to win the LSD Championship right now! What is she doing out here!? Why did she do that?! 

Benny Newell: Maybe her family will release a new album, the Turning of MJF and all the fucking scene kids and be woke about it together. 

Joe Hoffman: Striking out on Tinder again?

Benny Newell: I don’t want to fucking talk about it.

Hortega stares at Lindsay’s body and then at MJF who shrugs at Lindsay Troy’s limp body strunge out between the turnbuckles covered in the shrapnel of the wooden table. A smile crosses Flair’s face as she saunters off to the sound of Hortega calling for the bell.

WINNER OF THE SECOND FALL BY TABLE, MAXIMILIAN WILHELM KAEL!

Joe Hoffman: So Max and Lindsay are now tied one and one as we go into the final round of this two out of three falls match, a falls count anywhere stipulation but right now this train wreck as the LSD Champion motionless outside the ring and Lindsay Troy motionless inside the ring.

Benny Newell: Yeah it’s like a metaphor or something, right?

With Max still lifeless on the outside of the ring Lindsay Troy can be seen pulling herself out of the corner, her face now sporting her own small gash across her forehead. She looks around in confusion as Hortega attempts to explain that they are in their final pin. She seems to argue about the interference by MJF but Hortega pretends he doesn’t understand what she is saying. 

She flips off Hortega and shoves him out of the way before rolling out of the ring to find Max. The LSD Champion has slowly started to move again, crawling on his belly toward the entrance ramp to get away from his opponent. Yanking over Lindsay fires off a stiff right hand only to get caught with a sudden and unexpected flash of red light from Max’s mechanical eye. 

Blinded and disoriented, Lindsay is unprepared for Max smashing his fist into her ear knocking her off him. Standing up Max’s mechanical eye flickers blue for a moment before it settles into an ominous #97red, a cruel sneer crossing his face as he stalks Troy. Slamming his foot into her back Max forces Lindsay down onto the floor. With a snarl Max slams stands over his opponent grabbing her hair, pulling her onto her knees before he punches her straight in the back of the head.

Benny Newell: THE FUCKING DONKEY PUNCH!

Kicking Lindsay onto her back Max plants his foot square on her chest and demands Hortega make the count.

Joe Hoffman: What a sickening attack by Max Kael! 

UN-

Yanking his foot away, Lindsay grape vines Max’s leg and forces him to the ground with an ankle lock. Max howls as she cinches his ankle tightly, roaring back at Max demanding he submit. His arms lash out wildly, as his face is crossed with pain. Desperation begins to ooze from his face as he begins to drag himself, with Lindsay Troy attached toward the edge of the ramp where he managed to grab a beer from a fan before splashing it into her face. 

Blinded by the beer Lindsay releases the hold, smartly scrambling away from Max. Hobbling up to his feet Max moves up the stage to put more space between himself and his opponent. Having gotten the beer out of her eyes Lindsay begins to follow Max with a look of grim determination. 

Max turns just in time to catch a stiff right across his chin by Lindsay Troy staggering him. She follows it up with a stiff kick to his leg and another flurry of strikes to his neck and chin. Stumbling back Max is helpless as she continues to reign down a brutal flurry of punches directly to the damaged part of his head, fresh blood oozing from the wound. Her knuckles covered in Max’s blood Troy takes a step back, measures him and drives a knee directly into his face taking him down in a heap. 

Joe Hoffman: Lindsay Troy ringing Max’s bell for probably the sixth time tonight, you have to wonder how much damage has been done to Max’s brain.

Benny Newell: Does Max even have a brain? You sure he isn’t just made from Bill Gates conspiracy theories? 

Joe Hoffman: It’s Max Kael so you really can’t rule anything out. 

She kicks Max’s body down the ramp causing him to roll comically down the incline until he ragdolled into an awkward pile of tangled limbs. Lindsay moved back down the ramp, the blood from the broken table having dried up, the wound closed by now. 

Nudging Max with her foot he appears more or less unresponsive. She quickly ducks beneath the ring and retrieves a table as the crowd goes insane once again to watch somebody get drive through a table. Setting it up, Lindsay drags Max up to his feet, slaps him hard across the face and then hooks him into a text book Fisherman Suplex smashing him through the table!

Joe Hoffman: She didn’t get to drive Max through a table earlier but she got her chance here! A beautiful Perfect Plex into the table with a picture perfect bridge!

She bridges the suplex as Hortega attempts to navigate the broken table to check Max’s shoulders!

UNO!

DOS!

TR-KICKOUT!

Out of instinct Max’s body spasms, breaking Lindsay’s hold. Troy appears frustrated but doesn’t dwell, slowly getting back up as she sends a few feet into the back of Max’s head. Grabbing a broken piece of the table she smashes into Max’s head over and over again until it’s covered in blood and Max is once again unmoving. 

Joe Hoffman: Max Kael’s body more operation out of shock there as he narrowly avoids the pin!

Benny Newell: Sign of the champion and all that bullshit.. You know the more I drink of this, the less there is, the less I think I have to give a shit about Max Kael. 

She rolls the LSD Champion over and hooks his leg.

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

NO!

Max manages to get his shoulder up at the last possible moment. It’s so close that for a moment Troy thinks she’s won, lifting her arms up only to taste disappointment when Hortega indicates a two count to her. Hitting a breaking point Lindsay snaps up to her feet and grabs Max by his blood soaked hair, dragging him toward the announcers table. 

Joe Hoffman: Watch out Benny, they’re coming this way!

Benny Newell: Get the fuck away from me! 

Chopping Max across the chest Troy softens him up before throwing him onto the announcers table. She fires a few more stiff hits across Max’s face.

CRASH!

Benny Newell: NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Grabbing the nearby WhistlePig Max smashes the thick glass half full bottle of whiskey into the side of Lindsay Troy’s head. The alcohol stings her eyes and the multitude of cuts that are opened up on her face. Streams of red blood mix with amber liquid as she crumbles to the ground holding her face. Max rolls off the table and grabs her around the waist and hoists her up over his head releasing her as her body smashes through the announcers table! 

Joe Hoffman: LOOK OUT BENN-BZZT

The audio to commentary cuts out as Lindsay’s body crumbles through the table and accompanying monitors while Joe and Benny are sent flying. Max stares down at Lindsay Troy before he turns, shuffling toward the duffle bag he brought. Grabbing it he unzips the top and beings to rummage through it. 

Eventually LSD Champion pulls out a crossbow that is currently loaded with one bolt. The crowd lets out a collective sound of shock followed by a gruesome and sadistic cheer. Max holds the crossbow up as the violence starved fans begin to stomp their feet and raise their voices. Grabbing the duffle bag Max stalks back toward Lindsay Troy whose face has become a mask of blood, her eyes glazed over and distant. 

Max wanders up to Lindsay, pointing the crossbow at her foot before he pulled the trigger firing the arrow into her foot as the crowd lets out a very uncomfortable gasp. As Lindsay Troy lets out a very real, very shrill scream the audience groan and murmur in shock. They thought they wanted it, turns out they didn’t. Tossing the crossbow away Max kicks the bolt sticking out of Lindsay Troy’s foot causing another uncomfortable, gut wrenching scream to escape her lips. 

With a hateful sneer Max demands Hortega ask Lindsay Troy if she submits before stomping his foot down on the bolt again causing Troy to wail horrifically. The crowd begins to boo, it’s low at first but growing in noise as Max smiles vindictively. Gasping for breath Lindsay Troy wipes the blood from her face as she stares wide eyed with horror and disgust at Max. 

With hate in his face Max tosses the duffle bag to the side he wraps both hands around Lindsay’s neck and begins to blatantly choke her. The audience begin to become unmanageable upset, garbage and drinks flying at Max as the crowd begins to turn ugly. Lindsay’s face turns red then passes into purple as Max’s lips twitch and curl into a disgusting, vulgar, violating smile, almost a look of euphoria coming over him as his hands grow tighter and tighter. 

STHUCK!

It is Max’s turn to shriek as Lindsay yanks the bolt from her foot and drives it into Max’s mechanical eye, sparks sputtering out followed by a small jet of smoke. The AllState Arena explodes in cheers as Troy is able to deliver a modified Bottom Line to the LSD Champion. Stumbling back Max claws at his face, yanking the bolt free, glaring at it with an unhinged rage. Troy dove toward the duffle bag, searching it as Max roared, charging forward. 

His charge was cut short as Lindsay turned back around throwing three ninja stars into Max’s chest, cutting through the tactical armor he was wearing, tearing into his flesh. Stunned by the pain he is completely defenseless as Lindsay Troy shatters a kendo stick from the duffle bag across the side of Max’s head. 

Max drops to the ground as Lindsay Troy drops for the cover!

UNO!

DOSE!

TRE-KICKOUT!

Bloodied, beaten, lacerated and punctured Lindsay Troy looks disappointed but has lost much of the rage from earlier. Grime awareness of what it is going to take to win the LSD Championship off Max is beginning to become apparent to her. She climbs resolutely to her feet standing over a once again one eyed Max Kael. Reaching into the duffle bag he retrieved a chain, a smile coming to her face. 

She wraps the chain around Max’s face before locking in the Key to the Kingdom! 

Max roars in pain as Troy arches her back, blood pouring off her face onto Max’s back while she keeps his arms chicken winged while his head was yanked back by the chain. Hortega is quick to check if he submits but Max seems to refuse, rage and pain pouring out of his mouth rather then specific words. 

Catching part of the chain in his mouth Max bites down with his metal teeth breaking the link as the chain goes limp. With the leverage of the chain broken Max, much to Troy’s shock, manages to free one of his arms, grabbing a nearby broken shard of glass, slicing it across Troy’s other arm forcing her to release the Key to the Kingdom!

They both climb to their feet, disoriented, tired and bleeding profusely. With the shard in his hand Max slashes forward only to have it deflected away with a block from Troy answered with a palm strike to one of the ninja stars still stuck in his chest. He lets out a withered yelp before he roars in Lindsay’s face, driving his head down into hers. 

CRUNCH!

Lindsay’s eyes flutter before she answers Max’s head butt with one of her own, smashing into his head. It’s an unfortunate miscalculation as she strikes the steel plate knocking herself backward. Max’s hand reaches out and he grabs her by the throat before dragging her forward again.

CRUNCH! 

Max’s blue eye flares wide open, dried blood encrusted around it. A sadistic, smug expression crosses his face.

CRUNCH!

CRUNCH!

CRUNCH!

Three more horrific Brow Beaters later and Lindsay falls to the ground a bloody heap. Max falls to his knees and lays on top over, all his energy, all the rage and hate and anger spent as he looks half dead. Hortega drops for the count..

UNO..

DOS..

TRES..

WINNER OF THE THIRD FALL AND STILL LSD CHAMPION MAXIMILLIAN WILHELM KAEL IN 38 MINUTES AND 17 SECONDS

Max remains motionless as he lies over Lindsay Troy. Paramedics begin to rush to ring side before they are immediately ambushed by a series of men wearing rubber masks of several different High Octane Wrestling alumni. They swarm forward, 5 in total, and attack both Max and Lindsay Troy who are otherwise helpless to defend themselves.

Leaving Lindsay Troy behind the men abscond with Max’s body as the crowd boos loudly but mostly in confusion. The rest of the Group of Death arrive, Cecilworth on his phone googling the number for 9-11 while Dan Ryan and Mike Best quickly move to check on the condition of Lindsay Troy. 

On the HOTv screen an image of the man wearing the all white suit appears, his face covered in a new mask. A very, very special mask– he’s wearing the face of Michael Lee Best. 

Not-Mike Best: Hi Mike, you’ve been gone for awhile. Now you’re back and that’s just swell.. Cause next week if you want to see your brother again, if you want to see Max Kael again, you’re going to have to face me in that ring, one on one, next week, to discuss our relationship moving forward. I promised Lee that if your brother wasn’t in shape for War Games I’d take his place so you’d better act fast. Hit me up in my dms. 

The HOTv feed cuts as Mike is left looking both confused and angry while Dan Ryan continues to check on a lifeless Lindsay Troy. 

Cutting backstage to an office, we see COO of HOW, Scott Woodson sitting in front of a desk.  The camera facing towards Woodson as we see a stack of papers sitting in front of him.  In his hand is a #97Red HOW pen that he is staring at with a smile on his face.

Scott Woodson: Been quite the week… lots of negotiations here.  But I think we have a deal we both will be quite happy with.

The camera pans around to reveal the man behind the desk as not Lee Best… but The Godfather of the Tag Team Division, Mario Maurako.

Mario Maurako: I agree Woodson… and I think it’s a fair deal.  You just sure that is the tag team you want to add to the Tag Team Title match?

Scott Woodson: Without question now…

Reaching over to the side of the desk, Woodson picks up the envelope of Lucian’s he intercepted from Blaire Moise earlier in the night.  Reaching into his jacket he pulls out a book of matches which he uses to light the envelope on fire.

Mario Maurako: This isn’t your office Woodson, we’re not gonna destroy it with a fire.

Woodson shrugs as he takes the flaming envelope and tosses it in the metal wastebasket next to Mario’s desk.  The Godfather shakes his head as he takes his glass of water and empties it on the fire.

Scott Woodson: I’m done with the games behind my back… or in front of me on a TV screen.  I’ve tried here… and while I may not have been perfect myself… I’ve tried.  Maybe I didn’t get Lucian’s match versus his father aired on HOTv.  But when they rather air MVW reruns of Darin Matthews winning the MVW Title… what can I do?

Mario Maurako: It’s all about rating… and that is what I think this match at War Games will get big ratings. With Andy Murray and Joe Bergman, defending the HOW Tag Team Titles against The Hollywood Bruvs, The Egg Bandits and…

Scott Woodson: The remnants of HATE…. Scott Woodson and RIIIIIICCCKKKK!

Mario Maurako: RIIIIICCCCKKK!

Scott Woodson: And I’ll finally be able to get my hands on three of the 24K members that cost me and Damien our spots on the March to Glory card…. and one more shot at spoiling The Egg Bandits fucking Bobby Dean soap story.

Mario Maurako: And then there is my side of the deal Woodson….

Mario reminds Woodson as he taps on the papers in front of him.

Scott Woodson: Yes… yes there is….

Looking down at the papers, Woodson takes his #97Red HOW pen and we see him signing his name on the dotted line.  Lifting the pen back up he stares at it and smiles as he places it back into his jacket pocket.

Scott Woodson: My Ts are crossed…. And your I is dotted.  It’s now official.  Congratulations Mario on being a owner of High Octane Wrestling.

Mario takes the papers back from Woodson and looks over the signature as he smiles and nods his head.

Mario Maurako: Thank you Woodson… excited for what I can do with my ten percent.

The two long time rivals shake hands, smiles on their faces as the scheming continues for the two men who now both own a stake in HOW

After hours in Allstate Arena in Chicago after jam-packed action for Refueled XXVIII comes to a close. A caravan and a few vehicles are dotted around the car park with a tranquil atmosphere upon us.

HOW resident gypsy himself, Hughie Freeman, is the only man on scene. He appears to be filling up his Cadillac Escalade that is attached to his caravan.

Suddenly, Lucian Santangel steps into focus and approaches Freeman.

Lucian Santangel: Where you been?

Freeman finishes up filling up his Cadillac. Where he’s actually gotten the petrol to fill up his motor is another matter altogether.

Lucian Santangel: Playing fire with fire..

Freeman does his own thing, fiddling with the canister lid as he proceeds to walk to the back; passing Lucien and towards the caravan.

Lucian Santangel: Why the.. HATE?

Hughie stops dead in his movement as Lucian reaches out putting a hand on the shoulder of ‘The Famous Gypsy Warrior’.

Lucian Santangel: Only HATE can destroy us…

Hughie ponders the very utter of the word:HATE.

Lucian Santangel: We are.. Carnival.

Hughie smiles.

What the hell..?! Fatality Punch! Fatality Punch! Hughie Freeman has just sent Lucian over the top of the hood of the nearest parked car!

There is no wasted movement; the frame jumps to Hughie Freeman standing over a concussed Lucian Santangel. Hughie opens up the canister of petrol..

Hughie Freeman: I’m a Freeman and proud of my name, I’m a Freeman and proudly I proclaim..

A song associated with the brave USA troops is being adapted by Hughie Freeman via his singing. The petrol gushes out over Lucian’s helpless body.

Hughie Freeman: First to fight for the right, and to build the nation’s might, and The Freeman goes rolling along.

The petrol poured begins to slowly bring life into Luican as he spits consumed petrol.

The next frame jolts into action with no additional movement squandered. Hughie Freeman is sitting in the driving seat of his Cadillac with the window down. He looks out at the feeble Lucian Santangel slowly clambering on all fours.

Hughie Freeman: Rule one……..

Freeman removes a cigarette from his mouth–

Hughie Freeman: ……Never trust a Pikey.

–The cigarette gets thrown out of the window and on immediate contact with ‘The Big Circus Freak’.. engulfs his whole body in flames. Lucian harrowingly screams.

The next shot transitions instantly into an inside shot of Hughie Freeman driving his Cadillac. He alters his rear-view mirror and watches Santangel running around the metal jungle like a burning Mowgli.

Hughie Freeman, like a proper fucking gangster, puts on his black sunglasses and simply hums the rest of ‘The Army Song’.

The Cadillac bombs out of the parking lot with the caravan swinging behind. The final image is of a sad melting clown mask on the car park concrete.