Refueled XXXIX

The HOTv logo gives way, and the HOW logo greets us as the show starts and goes live inside the Best Arena as pyros pop, signaling the start of the nights show. The cameras flirt with individual members of the crowd, highlighting some of the crowd signs.

“BOBBY, MAKE ME YOUR NPC!”

“IM A LEVEL 8 FUSE FIGHTER!”

“I’M ONLY LEVEL 3!”

“LINDSAY TROY MAKES MY KINGDOM…COME”

“I FROZE MY EGGS 4 CANCER JILES”

“ZEB’S DEAD BABY…ZEBS DEAD”

“RAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH”

“HOLLYWOOD PUN-DEAD”

“DILLIGAF”

The cameras then focus in on the Hall of Fame commentary team of Joe Hoffman and Big Buff Benny Newell.

Joe Hoffman: Folks you are now tuning in live as High Octane Wrestling presents Refueled Episode thirty nine, brought to you by High Octane Television. What a night it promises to be as we have five matches lined up for you tonight, including not one, but TWO main events. First we have the legendary Lindsay Troy looking to continue her climb up the rankings ladder as she takes on number two, The Minister.

Benny Newell: I really worry for Lindsay. I sure hope Minister doesn’t get “stitches for his bitches,” but if he does, I’ll gladly kick her wound..

Joe Hoffman: Singular?

Benny Newell: Ohhh, YEAHHH.

Joe Hoffman: Sick Man. Anyway we also have Mike Best vs Brian Hollywood in a HOFC match!

Benny Newell: Please, that match is about as one sided as the skid side of a jock strap!

The lights dim and the ramp is illuminated with yellow spotlights as Jatt Starr emerges from the curtain accompanied by The Switch as “Everybody Wants You” by Billy Squier blares across the arena.

Joe Hoffman: Oh, here we go folks, looks like we’re kicking off the show in style!

Benny Newell: Jatt-TASTIC!

The rather dapper Jattvian Prince of Polka, sporting a tan three piece suit, a burgundy silk ascot, and brandishing his walking cane “Mister Whacky”, says something inaudible to The Switch who does an about face and heads backstage. The Ruler of Jattlantis continues down the ramp to large portion of cheers and some boos sprinkled about. Jatt Starr takes the microphone from Brian McVay at ringside and enters the ring. The music fades.

JATT STARR: Who has a case of JATTURDAY NIGHT FEVER?

The crowd offers cheers.

JATT STARR: Well, I guess it goes without saying, I think we have waited long enough for this moment. He has been gone too long…..Ladies and gentlemen, lock up your daughters who are between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five…….here’s the man, the myth, the moustache…..JOHN SEKTOR!!!!

The famous opening riff to “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” by AC/DC earns a thunderous pop from the HOW faithful.

Benny Newell: These ungrateful bastards will be booing him in a minute, but we’ve all missed the Gold Standard. God dammit Hoffman, him and Jatt in the same ring is enough to get little Benny Twinging.

Joe Hoffman: A return of a Hall of Famer will always evoke a great reaction from the fans, we never know what we are gonna get with John Sektor but its great to have him back.

Sektor emerges at the top of the ramp, dressed in a white dress shirt and smart pants with a pair of shiny tan shoes. He smirks at the crowd, soaking it up for a moment as he licks his thumb a fore finger, giving ‘Slick Daddy’ a groom before walking down to the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Last week we, eventually, found out that Sektor was responsible for the attacks on McKinney and Storm. Then after the show went off air we saw footage of Sektor and that man in the ring, Gilda….er…..Jatt Starr, attacking Chris Kostoff, who we believe is now out of action until further notice..

Benny Newell: Taking out the trash since 2002 Hoffman.

Joe Hoffman: The big question is why? Why attack Kostoff? and why, are Sektor and Jatt, who have until now always stood on the opposite side of the ring from one another, working together?

Benny Newell: Because money fucking TALKS, thats why!

Sektor gets into ring and shakes Jatts hand, not really giving anything back to the fans who are enjoying his presence. As his music fades Jatt brings the mic back to his lips to do his thing.

JATT STARR: Sektor’s return has brought about some…questions. The Thane of Starrkarth and Sektor, working together? What?! It’s insane! It’s crazy! It’s like American Cheese on Salmon! It’s like pairing a fine Chianti with Tuna Salad! It’s like Vegan Buffalo Wings! Heads are exploding Scanners style! It’s simple, people. Whilst it’s true, Sektor and the Sultan of SeaJattle have had vicious battles in the past, we have formed a mutual respect for one another. You might say we are brothers in blood. Maybe more cousins in carnage. But more importantly, we are business partners. Old school HOWers who remember what is was like when arenas were sold out week after week, night after night. When people realized what a privilege and honor it was to be a part of the HOW! When ratings soared consistently! When the talent left everything in this ring match after match. There would be blood, sweat, and tears imbedded in this mat after every show….its kinda gross when you think about it. But that’s what it took to make it! And when we see what passes for “talent” these days, people like McKinney and….uh….Jason….uh…..

The Starrabian Knight begins snapping his fingers trying to remember Jason Storrm’s name. He looks to Sektor for help but is given nothing but a shrug.

JATT STARR: Oh! I remember! It started with an “S”! It definitely started with an “S”. Clearly, he didn’t make that much of an impact. When we see those two dingleberries just waste their opportunity, it wastes our time, it wastes your time and it’s a waste of money. In fact, I’m wasting my valuable breath talking about them now. It’s DISGUSTING what the HOW has become.

The crowd shows their disagreement towards the Jatt-I Master by booing him.

JATT STARR: The fact that they were even allowed to….ahem….”compete” at all, it’s just…..sad. They deserved what they got. And in a month’s time, no one will even remember that McKinney and Jason…Silypants? No, that’s not right….Anyway, no one will remember they were even here. My main man, Sektor here, made sure of that.

Sektor looks out at the crowd.

JATT STARR: Kostoff, though. That was a little tougher on the Jattlantic City Idol. On a personal level, I respect the hell outta that guy. Eighteen years of kicking ass. You always knew where you stood with him. He didn’t care about winning. All he wanted to do was break bodies. Eviscerate his opponents. When you entered the ring against Kostoff, you were likely going to end up with battle damage. Like I said, personally, I respect him.

The crowd cheers at the kind words coming from the Earl of GlouStarr. He lifts up Mister Whacky admonishingly.

JATT STARR: BUT….guys like that, are bad for business. StarrSek Industries is a growing….well, industry. The fact is, Kostoff is a crazy, deranged, old man with the strength of six Betty Whites who, after “No Remorse”, had nothing new to offer the HOW and thus he has been deemed obsolete. So, he had to go. Nothing personal, it was purely a business decision.

The crowd boos.

JATT STARR: Sektor and the Marquis of MadagaStarr are what the HOW should represent. You might say, we’re the JATTINUM STANDARD! We don’t need to come out here like a bored rich kid and demand a battle to the death like we’re in freakin’ “Spartacus”. We don’t sit in our mother’s basement drinking Yoo Hoo and snacking on Fruit Roll Ups while trying to master Q-Bert like a toddler! We do it in our own homes in our man caves, like MEN!

There’s some mixed reaction from the crowd.

JATT STARR: By the way, the Mayor of ManJattan mastered Q-Bert in nineteen eighty-nevermind. We also don’t need to raise our hands and scream “OOO! OOO! Look at me! I’m relevant, Mister Kotter!” like “The Only Horshack” Eric Dane. And we’re not like Simon Loveless….you know what? The Hero of Jattlanta can’t take a shot at someone with a badass name like “Simon Loveless”. You do you, Simon! To everyone else, whether you are Lindsay Troy or Steve Harrison, Dan Ryan or Scott Stevens or even an Egg Bandit or Brian Hollywood and Friend…..

The Jattsylvanian Count scans the audience, taking his dramatic pause, and looks right into the camera.

JATT STARR: StarrSek Industries is taking over and our message to you is this: You….are….nothing. From this moment forward, you are only here, because we ALLOW you to be here. And if you don’t believe that….then just ask McKinney, Jason Something with an “S”, and Kostoff.

The King of Grapple from the Big Apple hands Sektor the microphone. Sektor stares out at the audience. He opens his mouth to speak but pauses as a brief chant of “WELCOME BACK” begins in unison. Sektor smiles at Jatt who offers him a golf clap. Once the fans settle, Sektor brings up the mic slowly, running his fingers through his moustache.

John Sektor:…

A slow smirk begins to curl up the side of his face as he turns to Jatt. He then holds the Mic out by his side at arms length and allows it to hit the canvas.

The crowd gasp in confusion whilst Sektor merely nods at Jatt to exit the ring. The crowd boo the newest business venture out of the ringside area, clearly taking Sektors silence as a lack of respect.

Joe Hoffman: That it? No explanation? No reason why he left last time? No reason for coming back? He just comes down here to goad this crowd who were good enough to give him a warm reception..

Benny Newell: Shut the fuck up, Hoffman. He’s John, FUCKING, Sektor and he doesn’t owe anyone a God damn thing! His actions speak louder than words!

The action cuts to a quick commercial break

We come back from commercial break and“Don’t Stop” by Nothing More blares over the PA System and Bobby Dean comes rushing down the ramp, giving the crowd high fives as he passes by as its time for our opening match of the evening.

Bryan McVay: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Houston, Texas, weighing in at 230 Pounds, please welcome….BOBBBBBYYYYYY DEEEEEEEEEAN!

Bobby enters the ring and waits around as Joel Hortega comes down for the first contest. As Hortega slides into the ring: the opening riffs of “The One You Love to Hate” tears through the sound system and before anything can be done about it Rob Halford’s voice tears through the building like fingernails down a chalkboard. Silver and blue laser lights strobe together to form swirling stars up and down the entrance ramp as a single pyrotechnic explosion of silver magnesium heralds the arrival of The Only Star. Dane steps out of the curtain to an odd reception, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses and his shoulders covered in leather. He makes his way down toward the ring and smirks at the somewhat hostile reaction from the High Octane crowd before walking around ringside, climbing the steps, wiping his feat on the apron and stepping through the ropes.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent….

Without wasting any time, Eric Dane rushes towards Bobby Dean and elbows him straight in the jaw, sending him into the corner as the bell rings for the opening contest.

Joe Hoffman: By God! Was it not enough for Dane to end the career of Erin Gordon’s last week? He’s already trying to massacre Bobby Dean before the bell even rang.

Benny Newell: Don’t you know, Hoffhole, Dane doesn’t give two shits about what we or the fans think. Dane only cares about one thing: getting his hands on HOW gold. You saw him at No Remorse. He lost to Lindsay Troy and he’s pissed. He’s showing he hasn’t lost that killer instinct!

Dane rips the turnbuckle off and begins to smash Bobby Dean’s head against the exposed turnbuckle as Hortega tries to break it up. Dane scowls at him and Hortega begins to count.

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

QUATRO!

CINC..

Dane extends his hands up and watches Dean fall straight towards the ground. He then rushes back towards Dean’s damaged body and begins to stomp a hole straight into his head. Hortega pushes Dane away. As Dane’s about to rip into Hortega, Dean sneaks up behind Eric Dane and hits a fast, but sloppy Snap German Suplex. Dean charges the ropes and hits a Senton Splash straight into Dane’s stomach. Dean quickly locks Dane into a side headlock, but Dane fights to get back to his feet. He picks Dean up with a back suplex and drops him straight on his head.

Kneeling upon the ground, Dane quickly mounts a flurry of Elbow Strikes straight at Dean’s jaw, but Dean thrusts him off. Dane tries to rush at Dean with a big boot, but Bobby picks Dean up and hits a belly to belly suplex on him. Discombobulated, dazed, and angry, Dean grabs Eric Dane and lifts him over his head. He gorilla presses him straight into the barricade and immediately chases after him outside.

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

Joe Hoffman: Dean’s not letting Dane take advantage without a good fight. He knows what Dane’s done to this roster and the Egg Queen. He can’t stand back idly while this goes on.

Benny Newell: He’s a Bandit, Joe! They try to be the good guys, but his doofy Crest Toothpaste smile doesn’t get him the results that Dane does. Fuck them both, but…

Joe Hoffman: Does that look like a good guy in Dean? He just smashed Dane’s face jaw first into that barricade!

Benny Newell: I was wrong! DRINK!

QUATRO!

CINCO!

Dean continues to unleash an onslaught of punches as Dane’s trying to get away after that cheap shot. Bobby grapples Dane and launches him with a Belly to Belly Suplex straight into the barricade back first. His face is turning bright red. As he picks Eric up for a brain buster, Dane maneuvers his weight and lands on his feet behind Bobby Dean. He clotheslines Bobby’s feet straight out from under him. Dane launches Bobby head first into the steel steps as Hortega continues his count.

SEIS!

SIETE!

Joe Hoffman: Dane’s back in the ring! Bobby better put the pedal to the metal or he’s going to get counted out.

Benny Newell: Oh, Hoffman! You’re so naïve!

Dane rolls back out of the ring. He picks Bobby back up to his feet, but Dean quickly headbutts Eric and sends him straight back into the ring. As Dane gets back up to his feet, Dean lands a picture-perfect leaping drop kick straight into Eric sending him into the corner. Bobby rushes to land a turnbuckle splash, but Eric Dane rolls out of the way. Dane charges straight for Bobby Dean and nails a stiff boot into his temple. Dane picks Dean up and nails him straight into a Tiger Driver/Pinning Combination as Hortega makes the count.

UNO!

DOS!

Joe Hoffman: CLOSE CALL BY DEAN! He’s running on fumes!

Benny Newell: His eyes look like the donuts he used to shovel down his pie hole…

Joe Hoffman: We get it glazed! Fat jokes are 2010, Benny!

Bobby pulls himself back to his feet as Dane tries to rushes at him with a stiff clothesline and fails. Dean smashes his hands straight into Dane’s ears, disorienting him. Dean picks up Dane for a Michinoku Driver and attempts to pin Eric.

UNO!

DOS!

NO! Dane kicks out! Bobby immediately motions for the Danshoku Driver. This is it! He hoists Dane and shoves his face into his tights as he hoists him up. As Dane’s in there, Eric’s feet connect straight to Dean’s ears and he falls as Dane rolls to the side. As Hortega checks on Dean who is trying to get back up to his feet, Dane nails a sneak low blow straight into Dean taking him down. As Hortega watches him collapse, Dane rolls back into the corner with his eyes widened. He’s angry! Licking his lips, he rushes towards Dean and quickly hits a Starbreaker Knee and smashes it straight to the back of Bobby Dean’s temple. Dane smirks as Bobby lies there. Hortega gripes, but Dane tells him to count as he covers Bobby Dean.

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

DING! DING! DING!

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner of the match via pinfall: EEEEEEERIC DAAAAAAAAANE!

Hortega goes to raise Dean’s hand, but Dane yanks it away and smirks at Bobby Dean’s lifeless body. He kicks it one more time for good measure as he rolls over the ropes and embraces everyone’s boos, celebrating his win.

Joe Hoffman: Well that sets the tone for tonight in more ways than one.

Benny Newell: It’s going to be a vicious night! Everyone’s out for sport tonight! CHAOS EVERYWHERE HOFFHOLE! Drink to that! Drink to it! While I hate Dane, by God, that sets tonight’s mood perfectly. There’s going to be blood, Joe. Only the strong survive! And Dane proved he will go through everyone to get himself a shot at gold here in HOW.

Joe Hoffman: Fair enough, Benny! Dane’s out to destroy anyone in his path. It doesn’t matter how nice or mean you are. He’s out for blood. And he proved it tonight by taking down Bobby Dean. It was a hard-fought match, Bobbo, but Dane just isn’t done terrorizing HOW yet.

Dane scoffs at the crowd as he walks to the back as the feed cuts away from the ring and the action picks up elsewhere.

Scene opens outside The Best Arena where Steve Harrison is walking with a strut towards a group of men who look like security guards.   The closer we get we notice it is a large Police Transporter Van with no windows and several what we know see are Prison Guards decked out in riot gear and their batons hitting their palms.  They move to get in the way of Steve who just looks at them like they are nothing but trash.

Steve Harrison: Put your weapons away.  It is ME, Steve Harrison the uppermost of humanity.  I am here to find my friend, Hughie Freeman.

Prison Guard #1: Nobody is to see Mr. Freeman.  Strict orders from Scottywood.

The Miracle Man we all deserve looks at the van and points at it.

Steve Harrison: Can he hear me?

Prison Guard #2: I have no idea…

Steve steps by them and knocks on the van.  Suddenly a large thud is heard and Harrison smiles to himself thinking that Hughie could hear him.

Prison Guard #1: What do you think you are doing?

Doozer’s Milk Man turns angrily at the Prison Guards.  He puts his hands in his pockets and comes out with some cash and tosses it at the Guards.

Steve Harrison: Give us some time, I promise you can watch.  It is not like I want that maniac running around on his own either.

The Guards pick up the money and shrug each other.  They take a few steps back and nod at Steve.  Harrison smiles at them and looks back at the van hoping to have a great conversation with the Pikey fuck.

Steve Harrison: Hey Hughie, it’s your new buddy, Steve Harrison.  I was hoping we could have a pow wow to plan for our tag match against those KGB bastards the eGG Bandits.

THUD

Steve Harrison: (nods) alright then.  So, one knock is a yes and two knocks is a no, ok?

THUD

Steve Harrison: I know we have not seen eye to eye at times recently.  I want you to know I have been selling like QVC the past week because I needed that push you gave me.  I know I had gotten a little lazy after selling all the Holy Water a few weekends ago.  With that said, I think we need to let last week’s match stay in last week.

THUD

Steve Harrison: Glad you agree.  Hope you have been icing the arm and that dangerous knockout punch can be utilized tonight.  I think you and I can work as a team tonight and not worry about who gets an LSD title shot and when.

THUD

Steve Harrison: Exactly…I mean we both know I deserve it, but you did earn a shot before me so we can let bygones be bygones for now.

THUD

Steve Harrison: Not sure whoever said you were not a reasonable man, but they sure look foolish now.  A lot of jealous liars in the wrestling industry, right.  (Laughs seriously, not at all realizing the hypocrisy).  I am thinking that tonight you come out strong and beat them like they stole your last hipster hat and then I can tag in and finish them up with the Miracle they deserve…It’s a Harricle.

THUD

Steve Harrison: Exactly, the only Miracle they deserve right now is their necks not being broken but just severely damaged.   The Miracle Man and Pikey Prisoner could be the next tag team champions, all you have to do, is you know—follow my lead.

THUD

Steve Harrison: This has been a great talk, partner.  I am glad we could come together in our disdain for the eGG Bandits.  I will see you in the ring.

THUD

Harrison turns and looks at the Prison Guards.

Steve Harrison: I think he just might be misunderstood…good guy there.

The guards look at each other confused about the situation and watch as Steve walks away towards the entrance to The Best Arena as we hit our next commercial break.

JOE HOFFMAN: This next match should be a god one. The undefeated Conor Fuse taking on The Egg Bandit Zeb Martin!

Benny Newell: RAH!

Joe Hoffman: Rah is not involved in this match.

Benny Newell: I’m still riding my Rah high from last week, Hoffhole!

The lights dim and “Everybody Wants You” by Billy Squier blares across the arena. Yellow spotlights illuminate the ramp towards the ring. The crowd cheers as Jatt “Gilda” Starr emerges from the curtain looking very dapper in a tan suit, a white pinstriped dress shirt with the top button undone, and a silk burgundy ascot.

Joe Hoffman: It’s Jatt…or Gilda….or Simon! What are we supposed to be calling him now?

Benny Newell: The man who beat Darkwing thirty-eight times and crushed that fucking goon, Kostoff last week!

Joe Hoffman: Well, it looks like the Ruler of Jattlantis is coming this way.

The Sovereign of Starrgentina takes a headset off the table and proceeds to take a seat next to Joe as the music ends

JATT STARR: Joseph, Benjamin, Good evening to you both.

Joe Hoffman: What are you doing here?

JATT STARR: I work here.

Benny Newell: Yeah, Hoffhole! Don’t be such a dumbass.

Joe Hoffman: I meant, why are you out here with us?

JATT STARR: Just wanted to get a good seat for this match. StarrSek industries is taking a serious approach in evaluating the so-called talent on this roster.

Joe Hoffman: And what is StarrSek Industries?

JATT STARR: You might say we’re in the…..waste management business.

The mid-tempo backing drone and accompanying piano and outlaw Nashville guitar licks begin to kick up. The voice of Ben Nichols pierces through the melody as “Everything Has Changed” by Lucero blares over the sound system, and the vocal queue signals the entrance of Zeb Martin. The Watson Mill Kid steps out to greet everyone with the bill of his Levi Garrett Racing hat worn low to shield his eyes. A friendly grin on his face, he attempts to pull the hat down even further (a real shy boy) as he makes his way down to the ring while making sure to outstretch his arm for some old-school hand slapping.

Joe Hoffman: Zeb Martin, a member of the Egg Bandits—

Jatt Starr: And he looks like he’d rather be brewing some moonshine and “mudboggin’” with his “boys”.

Benny Newell: And marrying his sister-cousin!

Jatt Starr: Benjamin! A little decorum, please!

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.

BRIAN McVEY: Standing in ring, weighing in at 235 pounds…..ZEB MAAAAAAARRRRRRRTIN!!!!!

The lights in the arena turn off before the big screen flickers on, like it has just been plugged in. There, a picture of Conor Fuse’s head is placed in the middle and numerous faces of various HOW talent are scattered around, resembling that of a Mega Man stage select screen. As the selection lands on the current match at hand, the lights come back on and a green strobe light shines in the center of the rampway. Emerging from the back is Conor Fuse, followed by his henchman, The Game Boy.

BRIAN McVAY: Making his way to the ring, weighing in at 210 pounds…..THE VINNNNNNNTAGE……CONOR FUUUUUUUUUUUSE!!!

Conor takes a moment to pose with his left fist in the air. He turns back to The Game Boy and smacks the hulking individual on the chest before marching his way down to the ring, sporting a smile and too much confidence.

Joe Hoffman: And here is the undefeated twenty-seven year old Canadian being accompanied by The Game Boy.

Jatt Starr: Psssh! The Switch is infinitely superior than The Game Boy!

Conor Fuse stops at the front of the ring, takes one leap onto the apron and then with ease clears the ropes and somersaults into the squared circle while The Game Boy crosses his arms and waits on the outside. Matt Boettcher signals for the bell.

“DING!”

Zeb Martin and Conor Fuse immediately lock up. Zeb Martin wins the battle of leverage and places Conor Fuse into a headlock. The win is short lived as Fuse immediately shoves Zeb Martin off of him. Instead of hitting the ropes, he immediately turns and gets hit in the face by a Conor Fuse dropkick. The impact sends Zeb Martin staggering back into the corner. Fuse immediately charges looking for a flying lariat but Zeb Martin dodgers to he right and it is Fuse’s turn to hit the turnbuckle. The Egg Bandit capitalizes and nails Conor Fuse with a right hand, followed by another, and then another. Zeb Martin takes Fuse by the arm and sends him to the opposite turnbuckle and promptly follows and nails a clothesline in the corner.

Joe Hoffman: Zeb Martin has the early advantage here.

Jatt Starr: What do you expect? He’s battling a man who lives in his mother’s basement with posters of Princess Peach and Dig Dug over his futon!

Zeb Martin not wasting any time immediately lifts The Vintage into a Fireman’s Carry and nails gutbuster. The Egg Bandit covers…..

“ONE”

“TW—-”

Kickout!

Joe Hoffman: A one and half count there. Zeb Martin clearly wants to put Conor Fuee away quickly.

Jatt Starr: Does anyone else think the only reason Zeb Martin is an Egg Bandit is because he’s so poor, that’s the only way to feed his family?

Benny Newell: I think that too!!!

Jatt Starr: Anyone else?

Zeb Martin pulls Conor Fuse up and delivers a gutwrencher suplex. Zeb Martin drops a knee onto the head of Conor Fuse. Martin immediately goes to the corner, hops on the first rope and hits a knee drop.

Zeb Martin goes for another cover…..

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!

KICKOUT!

Zeb Martin once again pulls his opponent up and sends him against the ropes. The Vintage bounces off the ropes, Zeb Martin drops his head looking for a back body drop. Conor Fuse leapfrogs over the Egg Bandit hits the ropes, both feet bouncing off the bottom rope as Zeb Martin turns and Conor Fuse nails him with a springboard dropkick. Zeb Martin is up in a hurry only get taken down by another Fuse dropkick. Both men pop back up, Zem Martin charges, looking for a clothesline but the Vintage ducks. Zeb Martin wheels around and Conor Fuse takes him down with a spinning heel kick.

Jatt Starr: I would love to see Conor Fuse perform a triple moonsault and pull out of his tights an AK-47 and while in midair, fill Zeb Martin full of lead, and then land on top of his body splattering blood everywhere only for Zeb Martin to rise up as Zombie Zeb to feast on Conor Fuse’s brains.

Joe Hoffman: You have a sick mind, Jatt. But Zeb Martin is rising up.

Benny Newell: ZOMBIE ZEB!!!!

Zeb Martin rises to his feet, Conor Fuse charges and is met with a Zeb Martin right hand. The Egg Bandit delivers another right hand followed by a boot to the gut. Zeb Martin then grabs Fuse and hits the Guillotine Drop.

Joe Hoffman: NECK CRICKER!!! This could be it!!!!

Zeb Martin covers and hooks the leg….

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!

THR—-!!!!

Kickout!

Zeb Martin slams his hand on the mat. He grabs Fuse by the head but The Vintage counters and rolls up Zeb Martin in a small package!!!!

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!

KICKOUT!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Solid two count.

Jatt Starr: Conor Fuse almost caught Ol’Zeb off guard there. You can’t underestimate anyone.

Both men are up, Conor Fuse charges Zeb Martin but the Egg Bandit manages to catch Fuse and hit a Samoan Drop. Zeb Martin is up and begins kicking Fuse in the gut. One , twice, three time. Zeb Martin nails Conor Fuse in the head with a knee drop. Conor Fuse rolls over and as he is pushing himself up, Zeb Martin, pulls him up locking in the Cobra Clutch! Conor Fuse flails his free arm wildly.

Benny Newell: Game over! The fucking Egg Bandit has it locked it!

Conor Fuse’s arm reaches for the top rope, stretching as far as he can…..and grabs it! The ref conducts his count to break the hold…..

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

F—-!!!!

Zeb Martin lets go of Conor Fuse and backs away with his hands up, backing away. Looking to capitalize, the Egg Bandit grabs Conor Fuse looking for the gutwrench suplex but seemingly out of nowhere Conor Fuse counters and nails a Tilt-a-Whirl DDT!!!

Joe Hoffman: ZEB MARTIN JUST GOT PWN’D!!!

Jatt Starr: Zeb Martin’s head just got driven into the mat.

Conor Fuse quickly covers!!!

…….ONE!!!

……TWO!!!!

……THR——

Zeb Martin kicks out!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Almost a three count there!

Jatt Starr: I guess Conor Fuse has a faulty “cheat code” for Zeb Martin.

Conor Fuse rolls off, stands over his fallen opponent and nails a Standing Skytwister Press!!! Conor Fuse immediately runs to the corner and leaps onto the top rope, leafs and delvers a perfect 450 spash!!!

Joe Hoffman: The Super 450 Splash!!!

Jatt Starr: Apparently, I stand corrected. Game over, Zeb.

Benny Newell: I was gonna say that!

Conor Fuse hooks the leg with the cover!!!!

……..ONE!!!!

…….TWO!!!!

………………THREE!!!!!!

On the three count, Zeb Martin kicks out!!!!

But, alas, it is a split second too late as the referee calls for the bell!!!!

“DING! DING!! DING!”

BRIAN McVAY: The winner of this match……THE VINTAGE…..CONOR FUUUUUUUUUUUUUSE!!!!

Conor Fuse immediately rolls out of the ring to the waiting Game Boy as Zeb Martin kneels on the mat shaking his head.

Joe Hoffman: Conor Fuse’s undefeated streak continues with an impressive victory over Zeb Martin.

Benny Newell: “Impressive” and “Zeb Martin” should not go together…..unless he has a Black Mamba sized dick.

Jatt Starr stands up, eyeing Conor Fuse, and begins to clap sarcastically at the Vintage, who is backing up up the ramp holding his arms up in victory as we cut away.

The HOV comes to life and a video begins to play….

About an hour before the arena doors open…

Most of the backstage area of the Best Arena is quiet, with only the most necessary crew present to make sure everything is in place.

Lindsay Troy comes in through one of the staff entrances attached to the parking garage behind and underneath the arena, one sturdy duffle bag thrown over her shoulder. She adjusts it slightly, wincing at the slight bolt of pain that shoots through it as she does. This end of the building is particularly quiet. She’d made a point to try and be the first one here tonight, to get her mind focused on the enormous task at hand, to make sure her thoughts were centered.

Her eyes are trained forward, and she rounds a corner and heads for her locker room, slowing down just slightly as she approaches it.

Even from several dozen feet down the hall she can see something taped to the door. Her eyes narrow slightly. A hastily scrawled note on a piece of paper is taped to the door, and as she gets closer she can see it’s scribbled in some sort of crayon perhaps. It’s hard to tell for sure. The letters are jagged and in large block red, and say, “Something to remember me by.”

Lindsay rips it off the door and crumples it in one hand, then slowly turns the knob on the door with the other.

The room seems clear. No one is there, as far as she can tell, but there is a small package sitting on the bench nearest the lockers.

Troy dumps her bag where she stands, and approaches the package cautiously.

It’s a small brown paper package, twine wrapped from front to back and side to side. It looks like it has been used before, as it’s taped together in haphazard patterns that appear to suggest some ripping open in the past. Lindsay looks at it, sees the smudged and faded tag on it, and the words “To: CeCe, From: Aunt Lindz, Love you” still clear enough to read, but smudged also.

Lindsay recognizes it immediately.

She had sent her niece a gift for her birthday, a small remembrance. But she had sent it when Cecilia was 12 years old. The sudden reappearance of the gift leaves Troy at distinct unease, and her instincts tell her to look around once more, which she does, checking the attached bathroom and shower area and finding nothing.

Returning to the bench, she picks the package up finally.

Carefully opening it, she first sees the back of the gift, which she remembered well. They had spent the summer at the beach near Troy’s place in Tampa, days in the sand and along the boardwalk. Dan had been on the road, and Cecilia would be heading back to Houston to stay with her mom, so they made the most of it. Lindsay had taken one photo she particularly liked of the two of them and had it nicely framed.

Looking down at the back of the frame, Lindsay smiles wistfully, seeing the little note she had written for CeCe: “Something to remember me by.”

But the meaning strikes her immediately and the smile leaves her face.

She pulls the rest of the paper off and flips the frame over. Then, the remaining color in her face disappears. A faded photo of a bright sunny Florida day; Lindsay Troy, proudly hanging her arm over her niece’s shoulders. Cecilia Ryan, beaming with her happiest, brightest smile, an ice cream cone in hand.

But over Lindsay Troy’s face, a large “X” is gouged into the photo. It’s cut all the way through, and bits of paper fold up at the edges of the cuts, as if they had been made slowly, violently, and with purpose. From the feet to the head of her likeness, in the same red block letters as the note on the door, the words “TRAITOR” stare back at her.

A flood of emotions rise up inside her, and she lets the frame drop from her hand and clatter to the floor.

The video ends and we cut to a commercial break as the Chicago crowd takes in what they just saw.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back folks, it’s time for the tag team match between Hughie Freeman and Steve Harrison who faced each other last week… and Doozer and RICK of the Egg Bandits who are already in the ring.

Benny Newell: Uh oh, someone got their entrances cut… that’s not a good fucking sign Joe.

Joe Hoffman: Maybe Scottywood is messing with them… maybe we’re trying to save time for the big HOFC main event tonight.

Benny Newell: It’s gonna be a thirty second fucking slaughtering Joe.  Hollywood is gonna be me fucking shark chum by the end of tonight.

Joe Hoffman: Well in this match, I’m sure Hughie is will be looking to get some momentum back in his favor after taking the loss to Harrison last week.  And beating Jiles’ longtime friend Doozer and new Bandit recruit RICK will go a long way to that tonight.

Benny Newell: Also maybe taking a shower would go a long way to not smelling like my ass after a Taco Bell and Jose Cuervo bender.  TEEEEQUILLLLLAAAAA!!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Please tell me you don’t have Tequila under that desk.

Benny Newell: I got whatever I need under here Joe.

Joe Hoffman: That’s disturbing…

“Take the Money and Run,” By The Steve Miller Man starts to play and the curtain flies open. Steve Harrison walks out with his arms in the air, a smirk across his face. He begins walking towards the rings and begins waving at that crowd who return his waves with boos and indifference. The smirk begins to fade after hearing the response so the Miracle Man begins jawing back at some of the audience and pointing to himself yelling over and over “ME, ME, ME!.”

Bryan McVay: And their opponents, first, from Fairfax, Virginia and weighing in at 245 pounds… Steven Harrison!!!!

Steve walks faster to the ring his smirk now a scowl, he enters the rings and leans against one of the turnbuckles and begins talking to himself, his face becoming red in anger.

“The Lonesome Boatman” By Dropkick Murphy hits as we see H.A.T.E. guards flanking an uncuffed Hughie Freeman down the ramp.  Not carrying him like last week, as it seems the loss Hughie suffered cost him some of the privileges that Scottywood has afforded his Alcatraz prisoner.

Bryan McVay: And his partner, from Alcatraz Island and weighing in at 215 pounds… Hughie Freeman!!!!

Freeman rolls into the ring as the H.A.T.E. guards make their way back up the ramp and actually fully backstage as Hughie looks on slightly confused as Hortega calls for the bell with Harrison and RICK in the ring.  Harrison comes flying in at RICK and nails him with a high knee to the jaw that sends RICK stumbling back to his corner where Doozer quickly tags himself in as he hops over the top ropes and charges at Harrison with  a shoulder block that sends Harrison tumbling back into his corner where Hughie Freeman tags himself in.

Joe Hoffman: Back to back blind tags here as Hughie is now in.

Benny Newell: Get the bleach ready guys!  We’re gonna need to deep clean that whole ring before Troy and Kael enter.

Freeman jumps into the ring as he starts landing a few quick punches on Doozer who staggers back towards his corner but Hughie grabs him and throws him into the ropes as Doozer comes straight back and straight into a big flying punch from Freeman.

Joe Hoffman: Fatality Punch!

Doozer is laid out as RICK makes his way into the ring but he his met by Harrison who tackles the big man through the ropes and to the floor as Hughie goes for the pin on Doozer.

UNO……..

DOS…………….

TRES………………………

DING DING DING

Bryan McVay: The winners of this match…. Steve Harrison and Hughie Freeman!!!!

Hughie quickly rolls out of the ring as and looks around for the H.A.T.E. guards as Harrison rolls back into the ring to start celebrating as Hortega goes to raise his arm…

Joe Hoffman: Terminal Cancer!!!!

Out of nowhere we see that COOL Jiles has made his way out from the crowd and almost kicked Harrison heads off as we see Hughie Freeman on the ramp laughing back at Harrison who is now laid out next to Doozer in the ring.

Benny Newell: You kicked the wrong fuck!  Take off the pikey’s head!

Joe Hoffman: There is a stare down between Jiles and Freeman… what is Jiles now smiling at…

CRACK!!!!

CRACK!!!

Two quick strikes of a barbed wire hockey stick to his back takes down Freeman on the ramp as we see the COO of HOW Scottywood standing over Hughie Freeman

Joe Hoffman: It’s Scottywood!!!

Benny Newell: He wasn’t on commentary tonight?

Joe Hoffman: How don’t you know that?

Benny Newell: You think I pay attention to his drunk ass Joe?  Fucking drunk…

Scotty drops the hockey stick to the ground as he picks Hughie up and connects with a Game Misconduct straight onto the steel ramp that busts the number one contender wide open.  The H.A.T.E. guards re-emerge from the back carrying a gurney as one of them hands The Hardcore Artist a microphone as he stares down Jiles who has the HOW LSD Title now propped up on his shoulder.

Scottywood: I’d wipe that fucking smile off your face Jiles.  Your boys got their fucking heuvos scrambled like fuck tonight. Just like you will next week.  Because Hughie’s mandatory LSD Title shot will be happening next week on Refueled… live here at The Best Arena!  That title is leaving with Hughie… so it can come home with me at Alcatraz!  Where it fucking belongs!

Jiles just continues smirking back at Scottywood as he nods his head sarcastically as The Hardcore Artist drops the mic as he drills his boot into the side of Hughie head before the H.A.T.E. guards load his body onto the gurney to haul him back off to Alcatraz Prison.

Joe Hoffman: Big news there from the COO… Jiles versus Hughie next week on Refueled for the LSD Title!

Benny Newell: What what that Joe?  I blacked out at the sound of Scotty’s voice.

Joe Hoffman: Nevermind then… let’s just head up to section 214…

The action cuts away from the chaos we just saw in the ring and pans the arena and lands on the all too famous, Section 214. A spotlight narrows down on the vacant 97Red seat in the section as the crowd begins to show their appreciation for the everyman, Joe Bergman. “Cat’s in the Cradle” begins to play throughout the arena as HOW’s #1 Dad, Steven Solex is shown standing side by side with his tag team partner’s daughter, and PBR’s trusted manager, Barbie Q. Solex has a mic in hand, and holds the other hand over his heart, soaking in the love from the audience. Solex appears to become watery-eyed as the music begins to fade.

Steven Solex: Ya’ know, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve come out here and addressed all of you. It’s been..

Solex appears to get a bit choked up as he covers his mouth with a balled fist. Barbie Q gives him a gentle pat on the back, encouraging him to continue.

Steven Solex: Sorry, this has been a difficult time for all of us. Barbie Q and I just wanted to come out here tonight, get into Section 214 and let all of you know how grateful we are, and how grateful Joe is to have all of you.

The crowd erupts in cheers as Solex pats a closed fist against his heart and bites his lip before pointing on to the crowd.

Joe Hoffman: What a tribute from one half of PBR! Joe Bergman is sorely missed here in HOW, and Steven Solex is doing right by him!

Solex pulls a PBR from the back pocket of his black operator style cargo pants and holds it up to the crowd, a sort of ceremonial toast to the crowd as Barbie Q cheers him on with a clap and a smile.

CRACK!!!!!

The scene shakes wildly as the camera man has been startled and loses his footing or grip of the camera, it’s hard to tell but he quickly regains focus, and zeros in on Barbie Q laid out flat on the cement floor of Section 214 and covered in beer. The crowd roars with boos as the daughter of Joe Bergman lies flat and motionless.

Joe Hoffman: Steven Solex….the #1 Dad…he…he just crushed that can of beer over Barbie Q’s head!

Solex doesn’t look like the #1 Dad anymore. That look has changed. That temperament is gone; it’s erased. What remains now is the shallow, stoic look of a combat veteran. The look of a man that has experienced shit you’ve only seen on Netflix. He slowly inches closer to the fallen body of Barbie Q until he’s standing completely over her. He wads a mouthful of saliva and snot and spits it right into her face. She doesn’t move. She remains still, the loogie dripping down the side of her face.

Steven Solex: Equal rights…bitch!

The crowd explodes in boos as Solex flips her the middle finger and snarls before he walks off. No music, no light effects… nothing.

Joe Hoffman: Equal rights? Why does that sound so familiar?!

Benny Newell: Shut the fuck up and DRINK!

The crowd is still buzzing and in shock from what they just saw as we cut to a commercial break.

We’re back from commercial break as we see Brian Hollywood walking about the USS Octane. He’s got his HOW Tag Team Championship draped over his shoulder. He looks around confused though as he gets to a certain corridor of the ship. He scratches his head before letting out a collective sigh and we catch what he mutters under his breath.

Brian Hollywood: That fucking idiot! He probably used google maps and then was blindly led into a sea of water. Probably followed a penguin…

All of a sudden Hollywood gets a call on his phone. His eyebrow raises and he answers it and puts it on speaker.

Brian Hollywood: Well I’ll be damned your still alive. Did you get a visit from Poseidon or did you realize that I’m on a fucking ship tonight?

Darin Matthews: Hey it wasn’t my fault I mistook it as a damn typo.

Hollywood collectively facepalms.

Brian Hollywood: Darin…there’s a big difference between an arena and a fucking ship mate! But I digress I should have known a fucking directions app would be too much for you. Should have booked you an Uber. This is what I get for trusting my own judgement sometimes.

Darin Matthews: Do you realize how misconstrued directions are these days?! It’s not like a showed up to the wrong movie theatre on the other side of town! Better not put me in that category too because FUCK THAT SHIT!

Hollywood collectively grunts and shakes his head.

Brian Hollywood: Well now that you brought up that particular story congratulations genius because this is basically the same concept! Well barring I don’t fucking die tonight I’ll meet you at the airport. I pray you don’t get lost to that one too!

Darin Matthews: Chicago is my backyard I think I’ve got it covered. Yea don’t die tonight. I co-signed on that karaoke machine…

Brian Hollywood: Gee thanks bud. Always know where your friendship has lied. Alright I’m gonna cruise through this ship and prepare for my match against Mike. Heh..cruise..see what I did there?!

And Matthews has effectively hung up on Hollywood. Hollywood stares at his phone for a good awkward minute before he just shrugs his shoulders and slides his phone back into his pants pocket.

Brian Hollywood: Oh well his loss. Mathews can be a dick when his common sense fails him so that’s nothing new.

Hollywood repositions his HOW Tag Team Championship on his shoulder. He then refocuses towards the camera as he takes in the ominous silence of the USS Octane.

Brian Hollywood: Tonight isn’t about fucking jokes. It’s about BUSINESS! Tonight I go one on one with Mike Best arguably the greatest HOFC competitor ever. But let me tell you that doesn’t bother me. One of us is getting knocked the fuck out tonight that much is certain. But wouldn’t it be glorious if it was me who got that knockout?

Brian Hollywood: I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time and it’s fitting after all these years of our history with one another that it all correlates to this one moment. The main event. HOFC. It will be a revival of a division long dead and we are going to bring it storming back. But this first match between us in HOFC won’t go the way you want it to. I’m going to make you fucking bleed and then I’m going to really put that fear of insecurity in you after I knock your ass out. This isn’t jokester Hollywood. This is the serious former HOW World Champion Brian Hollywood coming to knock on your fucking door before I break it the fuck down. Either way call this match historical because it could be your last one before you get put into the ground. I’ll be there waiting as our storied careers cross paths once more. I hope your ready Mike because a war is coming right for you and I plan to strike with everything I’ve got!

Hollywood smirks slightly but keeps the intensity shown on his face as he walks down through the USS Octane before the scene cuts away.

We cut back live inside The Best Arena and backstage where Brian Bare is seen standing just outside of Lee Best’s office.

Brian Bare: I’m here hoping to catch a comment with the Minister Max Kael on his way to his match with Lindsay Troy, he should be leaving any moment now..

As if on cue the door to Lee’s office opens as the white suited Minister makes his way out of the threshold. His hateful red eye glares down at Brian who is quick to jump at the chance to speak with him.

Brian Bare: Minister, can I just take a moment of your time to answer a few questions?

The Minister pauses for a moment, a sneer rippling over his upper lip as his silvery metal teeth peek out. His golden rings clank together as he straightens his tie before turning to sharply walk away. Bare doesn’t give up and continues his pursuit.

Brian Bare: Perhaps you can comment about the fall out of Mike Best’s open challenge to anyone in the HOW roster to face him in a Death Match?

Thrusting the microphone toward the Minister, Brian’s feet shuffle quickly in an attempt to keep up with the swift pace of his quarry. Still no answer from the Minister.

Brian Bare: Recently you’ve been seen in and out of Lee Best’s office, more so than usual, can you comment on the nature of your relationship with the GOD of HOW?

Again, the Minister does not pause in his stride. Instead he lifts his right hand in a dismissive manner, as if attempting to bat away an annoying insect.

Brian Bare: Well any words for your opponent tonight, Lindsay Troy?

The Minister stops dead in his tracks causing Brian to nearly stumble over himself to compensate. His head snaps toward Brian, his scowl deepening while his hands slowly reach out, wrapping themselves around the microphone in Brian’s hands. With a swift motion he yanks it out of Brian’s hands before staring down at it with a disgusted look.

He looks in either direction as if searching for something before he settles on the wall behind them. With all his might he smashes the microphone into the wall causing it to explode into several pieces, the audio crackling loudly before cutting out. Brian jumps back in surprise and shock, looking toward the Minister who is once again glaring at him.

After a few uncomfortable moments, the Minister straightens out his white suit and continues to make his way to the ring.

We return ringside with Joe Hoffman and Benny Newell, Joe looking shocked while Benny is pointing and laughing at one of the monitors in front of him.

Benny Newell: Brian Bare, what a fucking idiot! Ha-HAHA!

Joe Hoffman: The man was just doing his job, Benny, and some of those questions, quite frankly, I’d like to see answered, we haven’t see hide nor hair of the Minister since No Remorse.

Benny Newell: The man had part of a building dropped on him, Hoffman, he’s been in recovery! Don’t kick a guy when he’s done, Hoffman, that’s fucking rude!

Joe Hoffman: Well I’m not sure anything really hurts the Minister and honestly I don’t have one ounce of remorse for him.

Benny Newell: Heartless, Hoffman, heartless!

Joe Hoffman: Right, Benny, I’m the heartless one, you were just victim blaming Brian Bare!

Benny Newell: Oh sure, the moment a guy proves his point everybody goes and screams Victim Shaming!

Joe Hoffman: ANYWAY, up next, folks, we have the Minister in action against wrestling veteran Lindsay Troy!

Benny rolls his eyes and takes a shot out of his flask. We cut back to the ring where Bryan McVay is standing.

Bryan McVay: The following contest is for one fall..

“Put’Em in the Grave” by Jedi Mind Tricks starts up over the Best Arena sound system as the fans began to cheer in anticipation for the Queen of the Ring. Stepping out onto the stage arrives Lindsay Troy to a series of pyro and cannon blasts that momentarily drowns out the cheering HOW fans.

Bryan McVay: Introducing first.. Hailing from Tampa, Florida.. Standing at six foot, three inches and weighing in at one hundred and ninety five pounds.. She is the Number One Contender for the ICON Championship..

Marching down the ram toward the ring she blows a kiss toward the camera before focusing in on the ring. Her jaw clenches then releases as he takes a deep breath before moving toward the ring steps.

Bryan McVay: LLLLLLLLLLINDSAAAAAAAAY! TRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY!

Slipping between the ropes she moves toward the camera right turnbuckle, ascending it as she poses for the pumped High Octane crowd!

Joe Hoffman: Lindsay Troy is focused and the crowd is firmly in her corner tonight! Listen to these people!

Benny Newell: Everybody knows that wrestling fans are idiots, Hoffman! They would cheer a god damn potted plant if you told them too!

CLANG!

With a strange clanging noise all the power in the arena appears to go out. The stage suddenly flicker to life as thousands of tiny red lights appear on the stage and on the HOTv. “Shadow of Myself” by JT Music begins to crawl over the PA system as the lights begin to go out one by one until there is just one last one left burning.

The lights in the area start to rise once again as the red light is revealed to be the Minister’s single burning red eye, a smile stretched wide across his twisted face, metal teeth simmering in the bright lights.

Bryan McVay: And her opponent.. Hailing from Arkham, Massachusetts.. Weighing in at two hundred and thirty six pounds and standing as six foot four inches… he is the Number One Contender for the HOW World Championship..

On the stage the Minister slowly creeps toward what appears to be a coat rack that has been left on the far right side of the stage. He carefully removes his virgin white coat and vest, hanging them on the coat rack. He meticulously unbuttons his dress shirt and hangs it there there as well before turning his attention toward the ring, slinking toward it with an unpleasant grin on his face.

Bryan McVay: THE MINISTER… MAX KAAAAAAAAAAAAEL!

Moving to the steps the Minister sweeps himself up into the ring, his eye locked on Lindsay whom he seems to bark a few hostile words toward. He retreats to his corner while the two opponents keep their eyes on each other. Removing his rings the Minister hands them off to referee Matt Boettcher while Bryan McVay slips out of the ring.

Joe Hoffman: I am sure you at home heard McVay but both of these individuals in the ring are number one contenders for the World and ICON Championships making this match, in some circles, part of the two part Main Event for tonight!

Benny Newell: Whatever, Hoffman, whatever! I can’t wait to see some HOFC later! Max is just gonna mop the floor with Lindsay Troy just like he did last time!

Joe Hoffman: Last time these two faced each other it was a two out of three falls match and Lindsay Troy managed to make Max Kael tap out.

Benny Newell: Yeah, well, that was Max Kael, this is the Minister and the Minister does not tap out!

Joe Hoffman: We’ll just have to see, Benny, we’ll just have to see.

DING DING DING!

As the bell sounds it is Lindsay Troy who starts things off with fire as she charges straight out of her corner and cuts the ill prepared Minister with a wicked closeline that takes him off his feet! The crowd is quick to issue forth an encouraging cheer to Troy who immediately spins and waits for the Minister to climb to his feet before cutting him down with a second thunderous clothesline!

Joe Hoffman: Lindsay Troy is a woman on fire as she is bringing the fight to the Minister!

Benny Newell: She isn’t allowed to do that! That’s not fair, he wasn’t ready for her!

Minister quickly rolls out of the ring, his face a mix of surprise and hate while he takes a moment to put space between Troy and himself. The Queen of the Ring doesn’t give the Minister much of a reprieve however as she slips out of the ring and continues her assault with a clubbing forearm to the back of the Minister’s head causing him to drop to a knee. Keeping the pressure up she pulls him to his feet and quickly whips him into the ring post with a sickening crack!

Dragging the Minister to his feet Troy quickly rolls him into the ring and floats over for a cover!

One..

Two!!

Kickout!

Joe Hoffman: A near fall there early into the match as Troy is keeping the Minister off balance!

Benny Newell: I have fucking eyes, I can see that Hoffman! Lee will never forgive you if you lose to this bitch, Minister!

The Minister throws his shoulder up before turning his head to the side, spitting some blood onto the ring. Troy climbs to her feet and lays the boots to the Minister’s head and upper back aggressively breaking the bigger man down. Scrambling into the corner the Minister curls up into the ball while Matt Boettcher is quick to break up the two of them. Troy holds her hands up and backs up as Boettcher admonishes her allowing Max a moment to breath.

Joe Hoffman: A lot of aggression from Troy here tonight but with an opponent like the Minister, there are no half-measures!

Benny Newell: How is this happening!? How the fuck is the Minister losing this right now?!

Joe Hoffman: If this was scored I definitely have Lindsay leading this match right now by a lot!

Benny Newell: Shut up, Hoffman! Shut the fuck up! DRINK!

Once Minister is back up to his feet, however, Troy charges in again as the two exchange a few fists before Troy manages to get an arm lock onto the Minister. The two move through a series of catches catch can however, despite Max’s length of body, Lindsay’s superior grappling skills keeps her on top. With a twist in her waist she is able to flip Minister over into a bridged roll up!

ONE!

TWO!

Kickout!

Joe Hoffman: Another near pinfall by Lindsay Troy as she is dominating this match against the HOW Hall of Famer!

Benny Newell: She must have drugged him! This is the only way Lindsay could possibly be doing this week! DRUGS! Bad drugs too, not the expensive good kind that they give Joe Biden!

Joe Hoffman: What on Earth are you talking about, Benny?

Benny Newell: Politics, Hoffman! DRINK!

The Minister manages to power his way out of a very close near fall as Lindsay immediately grounds her opponent with another leg lock. The Minister is eventually able to work his way to the ropes forcing a break. This time, instead of going back into the ring the Minister slides out to rethink his current strategy while Lindsay remains in the ring with a focused and determined expression on her face.

His face flashing red with frustration the Minister finally slides back into the ring, circling Troy. The two move to lock up again when the Minister blatantly jabs a finger into Troy’s eye drawing a flurry of boos and an admonishing from Boettcher. Shoving the ref out of the way the Minister proceeded to take advantage of his cheating with a series of extremely stiff elbow shots to the side of Lindsay’s head followed a methodical series of neckbreakers.

Joe Hoffman: The Minister finally able to take some advantage in this match as he manages to reassert control of the pace.

Benny Newell: I told you, Hoffman, Max has this won easy! I never had any doubts!

Pulling Lindsay up to her feet the Minister hoists her up into a vicious looking release German Suplex before lazily covering her..

One..

Two..

Kickout!

Joe Hoffman: A near pinfall by the Minister there however you are not going to beat as talented and skilled a competitor as Lindsay Troy with a lazy pin like that.

Benny Newell: Yeah well all those fancy pins are also two counts so what does your fucking pinning science say to that?

Joe Hoffman: ..well I guess you have a point there.

Torturing the Queen of the Ring, Minister locks on a nerve pinch in the center of the ring while driving his elbow down onto her shoulder and neck. It is clear that Lindsay is not likely to ever submit, however the Minster seems to enjoy hearing her scream as he digs his fingers into her trapezoid. After a few minutes Lindsay looks worn down, her face pained but considerably less energetic. Shoving her to the ground the Minister covers, his forearm grinding down across the bridge of her nose.

One..

TWO!

TH-KICKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: A disrespectful pin there just designed to annoy and hurt Troy rather then get a pinfall, the Minister looks to just be grinding Troy down.

Benny Newell: Get her Minister! BREAK HER TO PIECE FOR LEE! DRIIIIINK!

Glaring at Boettcher the Minister makes an argument for three while the crowd rallies behind Troy. Signalling for the end the Minster pulls Lindsay up to her feet and sets her up for the WMD..

Joe Hoffman: Minister looking to end the match with the Weapon of Max Destruction..

Benny Newell: This is it, Joe, time to take it home Minister!

Troy manages to wrap her way around Max’s body and somehow manages to counter the attempt into the Key to the Kingdom in the center of the ring! The Minister howls as Lindsay Troy locks the hold as deep as she ever has, awareness that she could win right now shown on her face, her teeth bared in grim determination!

Benny Newell: No.. NO NO! NO! This isn’t fair! Lindsay is cheating, she has to be cheating!

Joe Hoffman: An amazing counter by Lindsay Troy, I don’t even really know how she did it but she’s managed to lock in the Key to the Kingdom! Max has nowhere to go and everything to lose!

Benny Newell: Break it! NO! The Minister doesn’t submit!

Thrashing his head about while his wild blue eye desperately scanned the world around him searching for a way out! The fans began to scream Tap as loud as they can toward the ring. Lindsay Troy beings to scream, yanking the Minister’s arms back in the chicken wing hold as he continues to scream!

Joe Hoffman: How much longer can the Minister hold out!? Will we see a repeat of War Games where the Minister passes out from the pain ending this match in a KO victory for Lindsay Troy!?

Benny Newell: NO! NOT POSSIBLE! I PICKED THE WRONG DAY TO STOP SNIFFING GLUE!

With a titanic effort the Minister is able to twist his body to the side and roll, breaking his arms free before he scrambles like a scalded dog toward the ropes!

Benny Newell: Thank fucking LEE! I told you, Hoffman, the Minster does not submit!

Joe Hoffman: Minister did, in fact, manage to escape the hold but how much damage did Lindsay manage to inflict on the Minister? Is this only a matter of time now for Lindsay Troy? Is tonight the night she finally drives a stake through the heart of this monster?!

Benny Newell: He isn’t a monster, he’s just misunderstood you fucking racist!

Troy pulls Max away from the ropes once again, up to his feet and then whips him into the corner where his body crashes, collapsing to the ground in a heap. She follows him in hitting a wicked looking shotgun catching Max square in the jaw! She quickly drags him out of the corner and drops for a pinfall..

One!

Two!

Kickout!

Joe Hoffman: I have no idea how but the Minister managed to kick out of that pinning situation!

Benny Newell: My fucking heart.. Oh god.. My heart..

The Minister once again narrowly avoids defeat by throwing his shoulder up. Troy climbs to her feet and hoists the Minister up to his feet.

STARDRIVER!

Benny Newell: I NEED MY PILLS, MY HEART!

Joe Hoffman: STARDRIVER! A flawless Stardriver from Lindsay Troy! THIS IS IT!

His body crumbles into a heap as Troy drops the Minister directly on the top of his head. Troy hooks both legs as she covers him, the crowd going insane as the moment might finally be here!

ONE!

TWO!!

THREE!!!!

KICKOUT!

Benny Newell: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! FUCK! The Minister kicking out helped stop my heart attack! Oh fuck, oh Jesus! Don’t LOSE, I WILL ACTUALLY FUCKING DIE!

Joe Hoffman: Somehow, someway, the Minister reached down and managed to avoid another pinfall! This match continues!

The Minister manages to throw his shoulder up right before Boettcher drops the hand. Troy lets loose a guttural scream of frustration before her eyes look toward the top turnbuckle, a look of malice on her face. She quickly ascends to the top rope and stares down at the Minister who has only just started to stir. Stumbling up to his feet the Minister looks confused as he searches for his opponent..

Joe Hoffman: What.. what is she thinking now!?

Benny Newell: Fuck me, Hoffman, was it the red ones with the plus symbol on then that were for my heart or the blue ones with the minus symbol on them with the happy face!?

Joe Hoffman: I have no idea what you are talking about Benny, I’m trying to call a match!

All Hail the Queen!

Joe Hoffman: SHE JUST TOOK MAX’S HEAD OFF!

Benny Newell: NO! FUCK! RED IT IS! DRRRRIIIIIINK!

With one fluid motion Lindsay Troy launches herself off the top rope and catches the Minister in a huge Hurricanrana, following through as she rolls him into a pin!

ONE!

TWO!!!!!!

KICKOUT!!

Joe Hoffman: NO! That was DAMN close, Benny!

Benny Hoffman: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

Powering out the Minister shoves Lindsay away, scrambling away from her with surprising and renewed energy though it is clear this is more likely born from desperation. Still, Troy is even further energized by the near fall sensing the blood in the water. She roars once again, this one the sound of a predator on the hunt rather than frustration.

Joe Hoffman: This is where Lindsay has to be more focused then she has ever been before, victory is in her grasp.. Can she follow up, ladies and gentlemen!?

Benny Newell: There is no way! NO WAY!

Stalking the Minister, Lindsay looks to be ready to set up the Queen’s Gambit, measuring the Minister as he used the ropes to pull himself up. Turning she cuts the legs out from beneath him, dropping the Minister down to his knees before she hits the ropes!

THE QUEENS GAMBIT!

NO!

Reaching out the Minister yanks Boettcher into Troy’s path, the referee eating both knees! Troy realizes only too late what has happened and looks shocked as the Minister seems to dig something out of his pocket. Remembering her opponent is still in the ring and still active Troy turns around..

Joe Hoffman: That Son of a B-.. He.. HE Pulled Referee Matt Boettcher into the damn way!

Benny Newell: I didn’t see that at all Hoffman, what I saw was an idiot referee jump in the way of Lindsay Troy like the rank amateur he is!

Joe Hoffman: Like hell he did, the Minister clearly pulled him!

POCKET SAND!

Joe Hoffman: And I suppose you think that was fine!

Benny Newell: He entered the ring with that in his pocket, that is totally legal, it’s part of his wardrobe!

Joe Hoffman: Give me a break!

A heavy cloud of powdery brown sand flies into the face of Lindsay Troy, blinding her instantly as the fans rain down a course of boos at the Minister’s underhanded tactics. Taking a measure of her the Minister waits for his opening and..

POP!

Joe Hoffman: A cheap shot by the Minister on a defenseless Lindsay Troy while referee Matt Boettcher is still down! The fans are letting the Minister know just how they feel about his dastardly acts!

The Minister connects with a vicious looking discus elbow smash across the unprotected jaw of Lindsay Troy taking her down hard on the mat! Rolling out of the ring the Minister is quick to take advantage of the unconscious referee, grabbing chair as the fans began to throw garbage at him. He seems to ignore the hostility from the fans as he rolls back into the ring and measures Lindsay..

CRACK!

Joe Hoffman: NO! That damn Minister with a sickening chair shot..

Benny Newell: He should probably hit her again just to make sure!

Joe Hoffman: That is a disgusting suggestion!

The chair wraps slightly as the Minister smashes it down on Lindsay’s back causing her to scream out in pain. Turning his eye toward the Boettcher, the Minister checks to make sure he’s still out before lifting the chair once again..

CRACK!

…

CRACK!

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Benny Newell: He listened to me!

Joe Hoffman: This is disgusting, Benny! Just disgusting! He couldn’t seem to seal the deal fairly so unexpectedly the damn Minister is stealing his victory with a chair!

Benny Newell: Hahah brilliant! Nobody cares how you win a match, in High Octane Wrestling, Hoffman, just that you win!

With the sixth and final attack with the chair the Minister tosses the bent and broken metal weapon out of the ring and slaps Boettcher a few times to wake him up. Dragging the older man toward Troy, the Minister drops down and hooks the leg.

One…

Two….

Three!

DING DING DING!

WINNER: THE MINISTER IN 15 MINUTES 31 SECONDS VIA PINFALL

“Shadow of Myself” blares over the PA system as the Minister holds his hands up in the air. Boettcher, still too weak to stand, simply rolls out of the ring while medical staff rush down to check on Lindsay Troy. Rolling outside of the ring the Minister grabs a microphone before jumping back into the ring while the fans boo him ferociously.

The Minister: SHUT UP! Everybody keeps asking me QUESTIONS.. Everybody wants to know if I know about Mike Best. Everybody wants to know when I am going to get my World Title Shot. Everybody wants to ask me if my career is basically over now that it’s been proven that Mike Best is better than me…

He stares at the crowd as they toss drinks and random garbage in the ring which the Minister is fairly skilled at dodging out of the way of.

The Minister: I’ve had to listen to these questions for the past two weeks and I’m sick of it! I’m sick of it all! So now you are going to sit there, shut up and listen to ME!

Though the Minister clearly wants quiet his demands only further incentivize the crowd to boo which further infuriates the Minister.

The Minister: As far as I am concerned.. If I can’t beat Mike Best.. I’ll be more than happy to Die trying.

Reaching into his pocket the Minister retrieves what looks to be a folded up contract. He suddenly turns and darts toward the EMT’s assisting Lindsay, kicking and punching them away from her. He kneels over her and pulls what looks to be a fountain pen out of his pocket. He winks toward the camera before he jams the pen down into Troy’s forehead drawing blood. He kicks her over and slams the contract down on her back, using it like a table as he signs the contract as we cut to our next commercial break.

The show feed cuts away from the action outside the ring to the backstage area where HOW’s favorite sideline reporter is on display.

Blaire Moise: Hello. My guest at this time is the reigning LSD Champion, and Maestro of eGG Bandits, Cancer Jiles.

Slowly, the shot expands revealing Jiles standing next to Moise in his customary all 97red jumpsuit. The LSD Title is draped over his shoulder, T-shades conceal his gaze, and his hair remains as gray and as slicked as ever.

Jiles: Hello, Blaire. Try not to stare.

A wink.

Blaire Moise: Last week, Dan Ryan got the best of you. Your thoughts?

A discouraged champion snidely responds.

Jiles: My thoughts? He won. He was better. Good for fucking him. I hope his face is healing nicely. I’m still standing here. Alive. Breathing. Daring to be perturbed. So, while Dan might have evened the score, you’d need to ask him if he feels like he got the best of me.

Blaire Moise: Interesting. So, why the interjection earlier tonight? The match was over. The Bandits had lost.

A hearty bellow from the Maestro of COOL.

Jiles: Well, simply put… because I am COOL and Steve Harrison deserved it. Fuck his milk, water, or whatever other liquid instant poop drink he’s pedaling. Oh, and fuck him, too. He’s been walking on eggshells for too long. Time for reality to set it for Miracle Stevie. I’ve only just begun to orchestrate his swan song.

Blaire Moise: So you weren’t sending a message to Hughie?

A shrug from the gray haired ACID trip.

Jiles: Sure, and I wanted to show Hughie that just like him, I too, can quickly and effortlessly turn someone’s lights off.

Blaire Moise: Are you worried about the ramifications of your prior actions playing a part in your match against Hughie on the coming Refueled?

Jiles: Good one.

Blaire Moise: So not worried at all then?

Jiles: Correct.

Blaire Moise: If not Hughie, then who do you see as a threat to your championship?

Jiles: No one. And believe me, I know how “Dan” that sounds but it’s true. Not because of who I beat to win it. Not because I’m the best wrestler around. Not because my political hand has pull. Not because I keep a rabbit’s foot in my wrestling boot. 

A suspenseful pause.

Jiles: BUT, because this championship… is all that I have left.

Blaire Moise: All you have left? But what about the Bandits?

The King of COOL sighs.

Jiles: It pains me to say it. It really does, Blaire. However, the Bandits are broken. The group we were, is not the group we are now. Once brothers, have now become former companions. The motivation, the drive, the spirit to egg at will and leave nothing to consequence is gone. I do not know what’s in store for us moving forward. I do not know if yolk and shell will continue to coexist. I hope that it does, and I hope that it will.

A sunken Maestro quickly spins on a heel and walks away.

Blaire Moise: Uh…. 

The action cuts away from Blair and away from The Best Arena as it is time for our Main Event aboard the USS Octane.

Joe Hoffman: After the storied battle between Lee Best and Chris Kostoff at No Remorse, many members of the High Octane roster have been chomping at the bit to step into the cage themselves and try out one of HOW’s purest battlegrounds— the HOFC rules match.

Benny Newell: Why would anyone want to go through what Lee went through against that fucking caveman? Even under traditional rules, HOFC is no fucking wrestling match— no pansy ass pinfalls, knockouts, submissions, and decisions only.

Joe Hoffman: Well Benny, none have been louder than the Son of God himself, Michael Lee Best, who was one of the pioneers of the division over a decade ago. After throwing down an open challenge last week, Brian Hollywood promptly and boldly stepped up to the plate, and it has been a war of the words all week between these two men. We’re headed now to the live feed from the USS OCTANE, where the participants are standing by.

The HOTv feed cuts to the deck of the USS OCTANE, showing off the expensive new cage in which HOFC bouts are to be fought in this era of HOW. From one side of the flight deck, Brian Hollywood makes his way down through a makeshift entranceway, walking with purpose as fans on either side of the guardrail reach out to try and slap hands with one half of the HOW Tag Team Champions.

As he reaches the base of the eight sided cage, Hollywood puts a hand on the steel and turns back toward the crowd, taking in the completely unique atmosphere of the match tonight. Fans line the deck on all sides of the cage, as well as the top deck overlooking the action. As many High Octane fans as would fit have been packed into the space, perhaps accounting for the distinct lack of a sell out in the Best Arena tonight.

Benny Newell: I don’t know what either of them are thinking, Joe. Mike Best has a mandatory World Title defense to think about, and a fucking LITERAL DEATH MATCH at Rumble at the Rock. Against THE FUCKING MINISTER, JOE. Why’s he taking a chance, even against a fucking milk drinker like Hollywood?

Joe Hoffman: That “milk drinker” nearly injured the HOW World Champion the last time they fought, Benny. And he’s one half of the HOW Tag Team Champions.

Benny Newell: I think you mean “championZ”, with a Z.

Joe Hoffman: Yeah. That’s what I said. They just sound the same, Benny.

Hollywood steps in through the cage door, headed toward his corner of the fighting space and grabbing a bottle of water from one of the attendants. He quickly guzzles down about half the bottle, before dumping the rest over his head and shaking the cold water out of his hair. A pair of blue fighting gloves on his hands, he stretches out and hops around in his corner, getting ready for one of the potentially defining matches of his career.

The buzz in the crowd rises once again, as the curtain behind the mock-entranceway parts and reveals the HOW World Champion, wearing a pair of 97 Red fighting gloves. He isn’t carrying the World Championship with him tonight, though— the self described “Unsanctioned Champion of HOFC” is purely focused on the cage here tonight, as he makes his way down the deck between the guard rails.

Joe Hoffman: A lot of arrogance from the self proclaimed “Starmaker” this week concerning this matchup. Michael Best called his own shot, predicting a first round knockout in this contest.

Benny Newell: Let him have his fun, Joe. This match is so lopsided that I’m afraid the boat is gonna sink.

Joe Hoffman: Hubris is often rewarded with failure, Benny. Brian Hollywood has quietly been one of HOW’s most consistent performers. If I’m the champ, I’m focusing on the match in the moment, not trying to predict it ahead of time.

The Starmaker reaches the cage, stepping over the base and into the octagon. He takes his corner, sneering over at Hollywood and talking some shit that is hard to make out over the levels of the crowd noise.

Rick Stevens briefly reminds both competitors of the rules, before ushering them to touch gloves in the middle of the cage. Both men extend their gloves, but Mike Best chooses disrespect— he slaps Hollywood across the jaw with the front side of his glove, drawing the ire of the fans as both men step back and wait for the bell.

DING DING

Both men step back toward the middle, and there is no lull before the action begins– Hollywood is straight out of the gate with a left right combo that connects, but Michael Best throws a mean looking leg kick that Hollywood is forced to check against. Brian steps back, but charges right back in with a kick toward the midsection– Best grabs hold of his leg, though, holding him in place while he connects with two big right hands in a row. Hollywood is staggered, and can’t cover up!

The Starmaker shoves Hollywood’s leg backward, trying to topple his opponent, but Hollywood keeps his feet. He lunges in with another left hand, but Best leans with it and dodges the strike. Brian fires off a right hand, but Best leans with it and dodges again. The Executive already looks frustrated, and now he swings away with both hands, bringing forth a barrage of punches, but Michael Best is in his favored domain– he ducks a punch, and then avoids another, watching Hollywood gas himself out early as the Son of God remains relatively untouched in the exchange.

Joe Hoffman: The speed of Michael Lee Best is astounding in there tonight.

Benny Newell: You don’t come into a man’s house and try to beat him at his own game, Joe. It’s fuckin’ embarassing.

Mike Best turns toward the crowd, seemingly indifferent toward their hostile reaction as he does a letter shuffle on the mat, further antagonizing Hollywood. He spins back around toward his opponent, just in time to see a sucker punch on the way! Best moves his head with the punch, trying to soften the impact, and it fortunately becomes little more than a glancing blow.

Of course, the Son of God can’t leave well enough alone.

He puts a glove to his own head, pretending to stagger around injured after the whiffed punch. He feigns being knocked out on his feet with a shit eating grin on his face, looking back over at Hollywood to see if he’s—

CRACK!

A thunderous haymaker rocks the HOW World Champion, instantly getting a roar from the crowd as he staggers backward and falls flat onto his ass! Hollywood grits his teeth and stays on the attack, diving onto the Son of God with a flying punch that connects directly with the side of his face!

Joe Hoffman: THE REWARD FOR HUBRIS, FOLKS! HOLLYWOOD IS ALIVE OUT THERE!

Benny Newell: Jesus Christ, Mike! Get your fucking hands up! Kick him in the dick or something! FUCK!

Hollywood fights for full mount control, as he continues to swing big right hands down on the Starmaker. Unfortunately, his ground game isn’t on the same level as a man who’s primary fighting style is mixed martial art-based, and Michael is just barely able to pull guard and get a foot into the hip of his opponent. This keeps him at bay for the moment, and finally Hollywood gets up, realizing he can’t be effective and is just going to tire himself out.

Mike Best: It’s not your day, homie! GIVE UP!

Best slams a glove down on the mat as he pulls himself up to his feet, nursing a decent fat lip but still smirking at Hollywood. He touches the back of his forearm to his mouth, taking note of the little bit of blood now smeared across his arm.

Joe Hoffman: Brian Hollywood said he was going to show the world that Mike Best can bleed, folks. Looks like he made good on that promise right here in the first round.

Benny Newell: Nobody makes Mike Best bleed his own blood, Joe!

With the Son of God being a bit more cautious now, and with Hollywood getting quickly gassed due to the constant attack, both men slow their pace and begin to circle the octagon, looking for an opening instead of trying to create one. Best steps in with a feigned jab, but instead throws a meat hook left fist that smashes into the side of Hollywood’s skull!

Hollywood grunts, shoving his opponent back into the cage and clinching up with him against one of the posts. He begins throwing knees to the midsection, trying to wear out Michael’s core. Instead of covering up, though, Michael grabs the back of Hollywood’s head and holds him at full clinch— he braces a foot against the cage, using it to push off and drive his right knee square into the face of Brian Hollywood!

Joe Hoffman: WHAT! I KNEED A HERO…. FROM THE CLINCH!

Hollywood snaps back onto the mat, hitting his head against the floor as he goes arms out and sprawled in the center of the octagon. Immediately, Mike dives onto his opponent to follow up, but Rick Stevens pulls him away and calls for the bell. Hollywood is sleeping.

DING DING

Trainers step into the octagon to check on Hollywood, who is definitely okay, but has also just severely had his bell rung. The ring announcer on the USS OCTANE, former Refueled announcer Zack Taylor, makes the announcement.

Zack Taylor: Your winner, as a result of a KNOCKOUT…. the Starmaker…. MICHAEL…. LEE…. BEEEEEESSSSSSTTTT!!!

Still hyped from the fight, Michael throws Rick Stevens’ hand away before it can be raised. He climbs onto the cage, straddling it as he celebrates in particularly insufferable fashion. The crowd isn’t impressed, and a particularly drunk fan across the guardrail begins jawing off at the HOW World Champion, talking shit.

With no music playing on the aircraft carrier, the champion can hear it– he immediately hops down from the cage, headed toward the guardrail. He quickly rips the gloves off of his hands, getting right up into the face of the heckling fan and asking him what the fuck his problem is– other fans in the area step backward to make some room, and immediately all of the phone cameras light up as people begin filming whatever is happening.

Joe Hoffman: What in the hell is he doing? That’s not another wrestler in the back, that’s just… a guy. Come on.

Benny Newell: Talk shit, get it, Joe. Sixtime Academy is the school of Hard fucking Knocks. You wanna be a star, Mike Best will fucking make you one.

Security begins rushing toward the scene, sensing an inevitable confrontation, as suddenly Mike Best shoves the pissed off fan backward– the fan shoves him right back, and before security makes it to cageside, Mike Best grabs hold of the ornery fan, pulling him by the head! He yanks the fan directly over the guardrail to the inside, and drops to knee, ripping hard punches to his head and face!

Joe Hoffman: Jesus, STOP THIS! A wrestling match is one thing, but what in the hell is Mike Best thinking? I think he’s completely lost it, Benny.

Benny Newell: You can’t defend your title from fucking prison, dummy. They don’t lock you up at Alcatraz for beating up civilians!

Several large security guards try to rip the Son of God off of a mostly innocent fan, as he continues to throw unhinged punches. He is finally torn away from the fray, and security swarms around the HOW World Champion, escorting him away from the cage. The onboard police officers, who thought that their presence on the docked carrier was going to be nothing more than a mundane legal requirement, immediately get into the fray, shoving Michael Best up against the cage and slapping cuffs onto the HOW World Champion. There doesn’t seem to be a hint of regret on the face of the Son of God as he’s taken by local authorities– the camera gets a shot of him smirking with pride as he’s hauled up the ramp and dragged toward the curtain as the feed from the USS Octane fades to black.

“ Did he win”

We are back inside The Best Arena and this time inside the office of the GOD of HOW….Lee Best.

We see Lee sitting, with dark sunglasses on, behind his desk with his head tilted towards the monitor on his desk.

Standing next to him is none other than 2020 Hall of Fame inductee, Mario Maurako, who now has the responsibility of answering the question just posed to him by Lee.

Mario Maurako: Yes Lee, your Son just defeated Hollywood…..but he

Lee Best: Fuck off with whatever you are about to say next. I just needed to know if he won or lost.

Mario flips off the GOD of HOW……and it’s obvious that Lee cannot see what Mario is doing…….but Mario lets it linger just a little too long.

Lee Best: Really? You don’t think I don’t know that you are fucking waving that little Carey fingerbanger at me?

Mario sheepishly puts his hand down and then instantly begins to wave it in front of Lee’s face, seeing if the GOD of HOW is truly blind from the Bottomline served to him by Chris Kostoff at No Remorse.

Lee Best: You know I can smell that fucking finger now….right? Sit the fuck down and let’s get to the final piece of business.

Mario slowly retracts his own hand, but not before smelling it himself. He quickly wipes it on his pant leg before slowly sitting down.

Lee Best: Is everyone here?

Mario nods his head that everyone is in fact here.

Lee Best: Well? Is everyone fucking here, or did they put as much effort into getting here as those fucking Bandits did out there tonight in the ring?

Mario Maurako: They are all here Lee….speaking of the Bandits….

Lee Best: Fuck them for the moment. Right now, it is all about this moment.

Lee slowly stands up and although he cannot see, he can sense the people sitting and standing in front of him. He can feel their presence.

Lee Best: About a month ago I went into that match with Kostoff with a plan to either end his career or mine. What I did not count on was that fucking idiot stabbing me in the fucking eye with my own fucking pen and leaving me blind. I took myself a few weeks to decide what I wanted to do. I was still breathing, Kostoff was lauded as a fucking hero, and my company was set to undeniably close.

Lee begins to walk around the desk, but as he does, he bumps into the corner of the desk and his brand new iMac crashes to the floor. Without missing a beat Lee slowly makes his way to the front of his desk and sits down.

Mario shares a look with Lee’s bodyguard and both men only shrug at each other as its obvious that Lee is going to struggle with this whole not being able to see thing.

Lee Best: I have always said that High Octane Wrestling will go down in a blaze of glory and there was no way that what happened at No Remorse was anything but a fucking train wreck. There was no glory in what happened. That is why after countless hours of literally sitting in darkness, I decided that it was time. It was time to light the match that would ignite the wick that would lead to the whole place burning to the ground in a true final moment of glory.

Lee pauses and runs his hand along his desk, knocking countless objects over, before finding the object that he was searching for……his pen.

He holds it out in front of him, still stained from his own blood, and continues on with his speech.

Lee Best: This pen means so much more than most folks will ever realize. Every single one of you know what this pen means to the history of this company. That is why when I called…you all answered. That is why when I asked if you would be willing to come back and fight alongside me…..you said yes. That is why when I told you the final goal of this alliance……..you did not hesitate.

Lee pauses and allows those final words to settle in….

Lee Best: Mario will be my literal and figurative eyes moving forward. He will be branching out and will be the man that I will be counting on to execute my orders and to keep you all on the right path. This is NOT a team. This is NOT a stable. This is an alliance and this alliance will take us to the end of all our paths.

With that Lee stands up, puts the pen into his jacket pocket, and makes his final statment of the night.

Lee Best: Welcome to the final level my friends. I appreciate you answering the call to arms and look forward to what will surely be a very mutual beneficial relationship between us all. If you have no questions…….then I think it’s time to share a few drinks and tell some old tales.

The room is quiet and after a moments pause, Lee slowly backs his way back to behind his desk, knocking over anything left to be knocked over, and settles into his chair.

Lee Best: Red……..grab us the good bottle…..and Mario….pour these bastards a shot.

Redrum, Lee’s bodyguard, nods his head and turns towards a large cabinet in the corner of the room to secure the bottle, while Mario reaches over to a nearby table where shot glasses are on the ready.

One by one the people in the room come forward as the shot glasses are filled.

Mario Maurako: Here ya go man……great promo out there tonight…..If you need me to find my old whack-o-meter….just say the words.

Steve Solex smiles and takes the shot glass into his hand and quickly takes it and motions for Mario to pour him another.

Mario looks at Lee, but Lee has no idea what just happened, and slowly pours another shot for the army vet.

This time Solex holds the shot glass in his hand and slides to his right as the next two folks come up to the desk.

Mario Maurako: Man…….I CANNOT wait to watch Survivor with you and go over…

Lee Best: Mario….what the fuck I say about that bullshit. One more reference to that show and I will be voting you off the fucking Best Island….got it?

Mario smirks as he hands the shot glass to Jatt Starr who smiles back at Mario. Instead of keeping the shot glass, Jatt passes it to the man to his right……..John Sektor.

The two men raise their shot glasses towards Mario and slide off to the right.

Mario has one final shot glass in his hand….but there is no one stepping up to take it.

Lee Best: Solex….Jatt…Sektor……where is our fourth?

Mario only shrugs….but quickly realizes that he once again forgot Lee cannot see him…

Mario Maurako: I know he was here obviously but….

Lee jumps to his feet.

Lee Best: THERE CANNOT BE A BEST ALLIANCE WITHOUT HIM….WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT MOTHER-

“Don’t get your panties twisted……………Dad”

Everyone turns to the darkened corner of the office and solitary red light comes to life and as the man walks forward everyone takes a half step back.

The man stops in front of Lee’s desk and without taking his eyes off of Lee, he grabs the shot glass from Mario with his left hand and raises it high in the air…..

“To the Best Alliance….long may we maim”

The Minister chuckles to himself as the rest of the room raise their glasses and The Best Alliance takes down their shots as Lee is smiling from ear to ear as the show ends.