Refueled XXXV

It’s another sold out night in Chicago as “Welcome to the Jungle” blasts through the Allstate Arena. The HOV is alight as pyro booms from the stage, spotlights swirl through the crowd, and everyone is on their feet. The camera zooms amongst the fans, displaying a number of clever signs for the folks at home:

KOSTOFF SUCKS DICK

HEY JILES, DO THE CURTAINS MATCH THE DRAPES?

WE WANT A HUGHIE AND RICK REUNION

DANE GOT MAIMED

I GOT LOST ON MY WAY TO JATTLANTIS

After panning around the crowd, the camera settles on the Hall of Fame announce crew sitting at ringside. Joe Hoffman looks ready and eager as always. Benny Newell’s got a bottle of Jack in front of him and is fiddling with something on his phone.

Joe Hoffman: Good evening everyone and welcome to Refueled 35! I’m Joe Hoffman, joined as always by my broadcast partner “Big Buff” Benny Newell, and tonight we have —

Benny Newell: BEST BETS BAYBEEEEE! Less than two hours until Big Daddy Lee reads this roster for filth and I am fucking ready, Joe. I AM FUCKING READY!

Benny waves his phone in Joe’s face. There’s a countdown app already running.

Joe Hoffman: Uh, yes. That is happening. But before that, we have five matches on the card, two of which have big time implications for No Remorse. The Hollywood Bruvs will put their High Octane tag titles on the line against the questionable pairing of Chris Kostoff and HOW newcomer Gilda Starr, and Cancer Jiles, Hughie Freeman, Doozer, and Jack Harmen will battle it out to see who will face Cecilworth Farthington for the LSD title next week. Depending on how that #1 Contender’s match shakes out may determine which of the Bandits will go on to No Remorse to face the tag champs, whoever they may be after tonight!

Benny Newell: That was no “questionable pairing,” Joe. Lee knew exactly what he was doing pairing that old fuck Kostoff with that spaceshot Gilda Starr, or Ockelman, or whatever the fuck she’s calling herself. No way those two dethrone the best tag team on the planet tonight.

Joe Hoffman: We have two other Bandits in action tonight, as RICK takes on Darin Matthews and Zeb Martin takes on Scott Stevens; both Stevens and Matthews are looking to turn things around after hard losses in tag action last week.

Benny Newell: Hollywood and Matthews can’t get on the same page to save their lives and Eric Dane bailed and left Stevens to the wolves. You’ve got a better chance of seeing Steve Harrison perform an actual miracle than seeing them turn anything around.

Joe Hoffman: And in our opening contest, we’ll see newcomer Jason Storm take on Erin Gordon. Erin suffered a tough defeat last week in her debut match against another newcomer Conor Fuse, which wasn’t without its fair share of shenanigans.

Benny Newell: Looked like Conor won that match fair and square to me, Joe, I don’t know what you’re talking about!

Joe Hoffman: He clearly had his hired muscle helping him out, Benny.

Benny Newell: Nope, the game dweeb leveled up and unlocked an achievement or whateverthefuck the nerds say. I won’t have you say otherwise, Hoffhole.

Joe Hoffman: Right, okay. Let’s just take it to Bryan McVay in the ring for the —

Instead, the opening chords to “Put ‘Em in the Grave” by Jedi Mind Tricks cues up over the sound system. The fans buzz in confusion over the unfamiliar theme, but their bewilderment doesn’t last for very long as Lindsay Troy emerges from behind the curtain once Vinnie Paz starts in with the first verse, and they react with mostly welcoming cheers.

The Queen of the Ring is dressed in street clothes – distressed black jeans, a simple knee brace, steel-toed boots, and a black tank with an artist’s rendition of her driving Eric Dane head-first onto a steel chair with the words “Killer Queen” graffitied underneath. She doesn’t pose or preen or rile up the High Octane Faithful from her place on the stage. Instead, she marches down the ramp to the ring, blowing right by the camera in the aisle, looking focused.

Benny Newell: Oh, fucking great. Literally could not think of a bigger buzzkill right now than this.

Joe Hoffman: The fans don’t seem to share your feelings, Benny, much like they didn’t a week ago when Lindsay Troy made a surprise return and laid out Eric Dane after the main event.

Benny Newell: Yeah, well, what the fuck do they know? There’s a reason she was taken out, despite Dane clearly not doing a good enough job of it. They wanna go against GOD and cheer her being back? He’ll have every last one of ‘em thrown out of here.

Troy ascends the steps, slips between the top and middle rope, and shoos Bryan McVay out of the ring. She takes a microphone from her back pocket and signals for her new music to be cut with a slash of her hand across her throat.

After a beat for the audience to settle in, she lifts the mic.

Lindsay Troy: Eric Dane.

Lindsay’s hazel eyes bore holes through the hard camera.

Lindsay Troy: Five weeks ago, after splitting from High Octane Wrestling last October, you popped back up out of nowhere, cracked my skull open and twisted my knee out of position, and in the haze between consciousness and darkness I heard you say, “I’m sorry.” The next week, I heard you tell Blaire Moise and Dan Ryan that you didn’t really want to do this; you only did what you had to do, you weren’t given a choice. Two weeks later, I heard you repeat the same line to the Minister. And I’m sure if you say it out loud enough times, to enough people, you’ll finally convince yourself that it’s true.

But you’ll never convince me, Eric. Because I know you’re full of shit.

That gets a pop from the crowd.

Lindsay Troy: Eric Dane doesn’t do “sorry.” Eric Dane doesn’t feel guilty. Eric Dane slugs people in the mouth and brains ‘em upside the head because he fuckin’ wants to, and boy, don’t I know that this lil’ confrontation has been a long time comin’. How convenient that you’ve turned into a bitch-ass messenger boy for Lee so you can write this off as having “no choice” in the matter.

But you did have a choice, didn’t you, Eric? You could’ve walked away. Or, you never could have left HOW in the first place and things might be very different than they are now. Instead, you decided to piss away whatever goodwill we had like you pissed away any other opportunity out there. Because that’s what Eric Dane does best: he burns bridges and turns away from the wreckage.

There is a murmur in the crowd; something is happening.

Lindsay Troy: Well not this time, asshole. You were right about me doing this on my own; I’m not out here on my GoD shit, and the boys know that. There’s no running away from-

~!KEEEEEEEEEERACK!~

In a split second she goes from vitriol-spewing Queen of the Ring to face down on the mat with a lump growing on the backside of her skull. The crowd immediately starts booing with everything they’re worth. Standing above her, again, is a chair wielding Eric Dane.

Joe Hoffman: Eric Dane! From…God, I don’t even know where…he’s just laid out Lindsay Troy again!

Benny Newell: YESSSSSSS! That’s right, motherfucker, finish the goddamn job this time!

For his part, Eric is actively favoring his ribs, bruised and broken from the attack last week. There is a significant dent in the chair, and a dour look across the face of The Only Star. A moment passes before he drives the edge of the chair hard into the side of her braced knee, mangling the brace in the process.

Joe Hoffman: This is sick. Absolutely, unequivocally sick.

Benny Newell: I love it. Let’s rename the orthopedic wing of Northwestern Memorial “HOW Central.” We bought an aircraft carrier, we can afford it.

Dane tosses the chair and makes his way around the fallen Lady of the Hour, he stretches his neck, loosening it, and stoops over carefully to grab the microphone dropped only seconds earlier. He picks it up and with a momentary struggle he stands back to his full height. It is clear that he probably should not be inside of a wrestling ring.

With the adrenaline from the attack fading and the pain of exertion returning, he speaks into the microphone at his fallen opponent.

Eric Dane: Sorry to burst your bubble, Queen, but the fuckin’ world doesn’t revolve around you. I know you think you got it all figured out, but as usual you don’t know shit about shit and you’re gonna let that mouth of yours override your ass.

His breathing is particularly strained.

Eric Dane: As much as I know how much you don’t want to hear this, you’re just a cog in the machine. Once again I’ll tell you I’m sorry and I wish there was another way, but there isn’t. So you and me, we’re gonna settle this thing between us that you think goes all the way back to New Orleans, and we’re gonna do it at No Remorse.

There is a rumble of excitement from the crowd.

Eric Dane: Chicago Street Fight.

Eric’s expression remains unchanged.

Eric Dane: No excuses, no bullshit.

With that he drops the mic. “The One You Love to Hate” fires up over the sound system and Dane exits the ring gingerly just as Troy starts showing signs of life on the mat.

Joe Hoffman: The challenge has been made! In three weeks, from the newly renovated Best Arena, Eric Dane and Lindsay Troy will settle this in a Chicago Street Fight!

Benny Newell: She might not even make it there, Hoffhole. What a goddamn shame that’d be.

Joe Hoffman: If I know Troy, she’ll find a way. We gotta take a quick commercial break. Don’t go anywhere!

The camera lingers on Lindsay Troy using the ropes to pull herself up, her face a mask of anger and pain, and then cuts away.

Joe Hoffman:  Welcome back folks and what an intense promo from Lindsay Troy followed up by the attack by Eric Dane and by all accounts our newest match for the No Remorse PPV…

Benny Newell:  Chicago Street Fight with Eric Dane? Either LT has bigger balls than Dane if she is going to fight him on the streets of Chicago….granted the balls would be OLD.

Joe Hoffman:  ANYWAY…..look, Benny, Erin Gordon’s storming out of the back ready to begin our first contest.  She’s definitely pissed off after Connor Fuse stole a victory from her last week.

The overhead lights slowly go dark as the first strummed chords of ‘Hurricane’ fill the air, the crowd’s cheers rising in response to the woman that is about to emerge. Gray lights flare into being around the curtain when the song starts proper, illuminating the outline of the Oncoming Storm as she stands with her shoulders square and her hands curled into fists at her sides. The wind machine is on behind her, blowing her hair around as her gaze moves over the assembled crowd and the surroundings alike… before it settles upon the ring. As ‘Hurricane’ cuts to the chorus, she makes her way down the aisle, not shying away from the hands that reach out for her. Erin’s focus never wavers, even as she grabs onto the ropes and hauls herself up onto the apron. Wiping her feet, she climbs into the ring between the top and middle ropes before she heads to her corner, turning to rest her back against the turnbuckles. Only then does she play a little to the crowd, a single fist thrusting itself skyward to earn more cheers as her music fades.

Bryan McVay:  Our opening contest is scheduled for one fall.  Introducing first from Blooming Valley, Pennsylvania please welcome EEEEEEEEERIN GORDON!

Joe Hoffman:  I haven’t seen determination in any HOW competitors’ eyes since Tara Michaels-Davidson charged after her ex-husband’s HOW World Championship.  Erin Gordon’s quite the passion for this business.  She tore into Connor last week.  But her opponent tonight blamed her for all the mistakes last week.

Benny Newell:  That’s a bold strategy, Hoffhole.  Let’s see if it pays off for the 14 year old veteran Jason Storm when he comes out here in his debut match tonight.

“Let the Sparks Fly” by Thousand Foot Krutch blares over the PA system as Jason Storm walks out and greets the crowd upon his debut.  He saunters along just taking in all the excitement from the hungry HOW crowd.  As he’s greeting all the fans, Erin Gordon gets fed up and jumps to the outside of the ring and lands a nasty clothesline sending Jason Storm into the barricade as Matt Boettcher motions for the bell to be rang and starts counting both out.

DING!  DING!  DING!  DING!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Joe Hoffman:  Clearly it looks like it isn’t paying off for the spunky young rookie from Toronto, Ontario, Canada.  I felt like someone needed to give Jason Storm some props after Erin Gordon didn’t even let McVay introduce him to the HOW crowd.  Clearly, he’s passionate and thankful for the opportunity to set his feet inside a HOW ring tonight. He wanted thanks all the fans for following his career.

Benny Newell:   Like I said last week; you can be thankful all you want.  But the minute you step out of those curtains, Joe, you’ve got to turn on your killer instincts.  Gordon knows that from last week and she’s wasting no time.  Just like I’m not going to waste any time cracking open this fresh bottle of Jack Daniels and watch this go down.

Joe Hoffman:  Drink?

Benny Newell:  Hell yeah!  That’s the spirit Hoffhole.  You know me so well after all these years!

Gordon continues to level Storm with punches and kicks on the outside of the ring.  She levels Storm straight into the steel stairs.  She takes Storms body and slowly pushes in into the ring.  She then grabs him and does an abdominal stretch as Boettcher still continues to count her out.

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX!

Joe Hoffman:  Storm’s reeling in pain with Gordon already weakening his abs for later in this match.  She’s trying to wreck his diaphragm, Storm’s going to struggle with breathing after that!!!

Benny Newell:  She better be careful with that hold.  Otherwise she’ll be struggling with winning.

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

Gordon releases the hold and storms into the ring.  Her eyes widen as she smells the blood, fear and weakness in Storm.  With every fiber in her being, Gordon wants to cause immense pain to her newcomer opponent.  Desperation sets in for Storm as he pulls himself up on the turnbuckle, but Gordon doesn’t care.  She smacks her elbow preparing for a spinning back elbow.  With all her fury, she charges with all her might and…

SMASH!

Joe Hoffman:  WOW!  Storm rolls out of the way out of desperation right there.  .

Benny Newell:  Gordon’s going to need a shot after that one.

Joe Hoffman:  Gordon’s holding her elbow reeling in pain.   Storm isn’t wasting any time with that one.  Elbow lock out of the gates.  He’s trying to keep her from devastating Nor’Easter spinning backfist.  Clearly he’s done his homework with how Erin Gordon’s fists are brutal weapons.

After wrenching in on her elbow, Storm stomps at Gordon’s arms, weakening them.  He then rushes and quickly wraps her arm into a Fujiwara Armbar stretching her out.  As she struggles to get back to her feet out of desperation, Storm deepens the lock.  Gordon falls to the mat and Boettcher goes to check on her, but she regains strength as the crowd rallies behind her.  She pulls herself back to her feet and starts hammering at Storm’s face, but he releases the hold.  Storm rolls towards the outside.  Before he can escape, Gordon grabs his hair and holds him in place.  Storm immediately lifts her up into duplex position.

Joe Hoffman:  HOLY MOLY!  He’s going to slam Gordon back first onto the ring apron.  He’s 100 pounds heavier.  He’s going to break her back to win.

Gordon immediately reverses her momentum down and pushes Strom face first into the turnbuckle.  Without hesitation, Erin charges at him and smashes Storm’s face into the turnbuckle with a stiff meteora knee right into his temple.

Benny Newell:  Remember Hoffhole!  Dynamite comes in small packages.  Obviously, you didn’t learn that one ever…

Gordon jumps off the Apron and grabs Storm’s chest.  She chops the hell out of it.  Finally, Storm has enough.  He defiantly spits in her face trying to anger her.  Eyes widening, heart pumping, and her face turning red; Gordon cracks her neck as Storm gets off the floor and cockily smiles.  He rolls into the ring and Gordon charges towards him.  Storm lifts Gordon up high in the air and lands a sickening spinebuster on her and wipes his hands together.  She keeps getting back up and getting hit with suplex after suplex from Storm.  As she’s worn down, Storm kicks her and she falls towards the mat.  The damage is done.  He has weakened the beast.  He lifts her up and motions for his Tempest choke hold, slitting his throat as the crowd boos.

Benny Newell:  It’s over right now.  Gordon’s out like I am after a good night with…

Joe Hoffman:  We don’t need to know about that; this is a television show.  Focus on the wrestling!  We know you have crazy stories!  This is it!  Storm’s about to lock her deeper into the Tempest…

NO!  Gordon gets her second wind!  Her anger pushed her.  She had played possum and get her prey right where she wanted him.  She tosses Storm quickly and whips him off the turnbuckles and in one swift, fast instant Storm didn’t see it coming:

BOOM!

Joe Hoffman:    Nor’Easter!  Nor’Easter! Nor’Easter!  COVER!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!!

DING!  DING!  DING!  DING!

Bryan McVay:  Here is your winner via pinfall after 8 minutes….EEEEEEEEEEEEEERIN GOOOOOOOOODON!!!!

Benny Newell:  Fluid and smooth just like this bottle of Jack Daniels.  Erin Gordon knocked Jason Storm right across his glass jaw and put him down like I’m gonna put 3 of these bottles of Jack down before we go off the air tonight.

Joe Hoffman:  Storm didn’t stand a chance after she connected directly with all her force and his force at those speeds.  14 years doesn’t prepare you for a car crash like that hitting your jaw.  Storm might have fought hard and valiantly, but in the end, Erin Gordon’s Nor’Easter and her determination after last week’s loss brought her victory.

Benny Newell:  I have feeling Storm will bounce back next week…..or run to the fucking hills. Will be interesting to see which way he goes after the loss.

Boettcher goes to raise Gordon’s hand up but she pulls away and just celebrates her win looking down at Jason Storm as we cut away.

Backstage.

The scene opens on a door. The sound of knocking.  RAP!  RAP!  RAP!  The door opens revealing the hulking physique of Kostoff.   He looks to the left, then to the right.

JATT STARR:  Down here.

Kostoff looks down at the Ruler of Jattlantis who is still sporting a bad toupee.

JATT STARR:  Don’t shut the door.  Let me say my peace.   You and the Sultan of Sea-Jattle have never seen eye to eye.  We came into the HOW together.  We built the HOW, we made it what is today.  Well, the Hero of Jattlanta more so than you, but let’s not quibble about that.

Kostoff takes a deep breath, getting more and more irritated by the Champion of Jattanooga with each passing word.

JATT STARR:  Look, I know you’re all gung ho for “Lee Best versus Kostoff: Ninety-Eight —- This time it’s really, REALLY personal!”….but tonight, you are teaming with my daughter:  The greatest wrestler to never stop foot inside a ring….until tonight.  The Tag Team Championship is on the line.  The Hollywood Bungfaces think they’re just going to steamroll through this match!  My daughter hasn’t wrestled a match in her life…and you….you haven’t won a match since new episodes of “Frasier” were being produced!

Kostoff takes a step forward and looms threateningly over the King of Grapple from the Big Apple.

KOSTOFF:  Get to the point before I take that dead animal off your head and shove it up your ass.

JATT STARR:  Whoa!  The Mayor of ManJatthan did not come here to fight!  I’m just saying, you and Gilda will need to work together if you want to walk away with the Tag Team Titles.  Don’t take any grudges you have against me out on her.

KOSTOFF:  I’ve met Gilda.  She might talk about wanting to work for Lee probably because you filled her head with bullshit.  But she’s got balls, Jatt.  More balls than you’ll ever have.

JATT STARR:  I only have the one, but—-

KOSTOFF:  It’s hard to believe she shares your DNA.  We are the last of the HOW originals, you’re right about that.    We’ve got the scars to prove it.  The difference is, I never had Lee Best’s hand up my ass making me dance like a fucking puppet.

JATT STARR:  Marionettes dance.  Shows what you know.

KOSTOFF:  I don’t give a shit. Tonight, I’m not gonna roll over.  When I hit the ring, a message will be sent, loud and fucking clear to the Hollywood Bruvs.  They won’t just walk all over me or your daughter.  Win or lose, I will bring the pain and she’ll bring the suffering.

JATT STARR:  Don’t speak for Gilda.  Just win.

KOSTOFF:  Win or lose, those boys are going to be in for a fight.

JATT STARR:  But don’t lose. WIN.  I know that’s a new concept for you and all.  But face facts here, you are the HOW version of Guy Fieri.  Somehow people like him, people watch his shows, but he has a stupid face and he sucks!!!

KOSTOFF:  You know what?  I think you should experience a ‘diner”, “drive-in”, and “dive”.

JATT STARR:  What the heck are you talking about?  HEY!  What are—-Stop!  I am handicapable!

Kostoff gets behind the Monarch of MadagaStarr, grabs the wheelchair, and shoves it down the hallway.  The wheelchairs “drives into” a catering table which collapses.  The wheelchair tips over and Jatt Starr lands or “dives” into a Large bowl of buffalo chicken dip.  At this point, Gilda walks up, she sees Kostoff and then at her father, struggling to get his wheelchair right side up.  She looks at Kostoff.

GILDA:  Was that really necessary?

KOSTOFF:  He compared me to Guy Fieri.

GILDA:  Oh.

Kostoff goes back into his locker room as Gilda helps Jatt Starr back into his wheelchair.

GILDA:  What happened?

JATT STARR:  Nothing!  He got all emotional, out of nowhere.

GILDA:  Why don’t I believe you?

Gilda has seated Jatt Starr in his wheelchair, his toupee has shifted to the righ side of his head, half for his face is covered in buffalo sauce and shredded chicken.  She begins pushing him down the corridor.

GILDA:  Who is Guy Fieri?

As they continue down the corridor, the scene fades to black.

“The Man” by Aloe Blacc fills Allstate Arena as Darin Matthews, accompanied by Meredith, emerges from gorilla and immediately makes his way down the ramp.

Brian McVay:  Introducing first, from the Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri.  Weighing in at 225 pounds, DAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRIINNNNNN MAAAAAAAAAAATHEWS!

Joe Hoffman: I don’t know about you, Benny. But Darin looks a bit different here tonight.

Benny Newell: How would you feel about getting beaten out at your job by a bunch of goofballs who barely take themselves seriously week after week? I’d have that same twitch in my eye, if it were me.

Joe Hoffman: I think the Bandits have actually gotten much more seri-

Benny Newell: Do they still throw eggs and mourn a cardboard cutout? … Thought so.

Darin slides into the ring while being showered by a chorus of boos from the High Octane faithful. He anxiously paces between the two corners of the ring furthest from the entrance, nervously awaiting his opponent. Then the lights go out. It can’t be proven, but the shriek that just reverberated throughout the building really sounded like Matthews…

Then, yellow light engulfs the crowd as the sound of a revving chainsaw blasts throught the speakers.  “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting” by Elton John follows as the ramp lights up in white and Rick Dickulous emerges from the back.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent… from Toronto, Ontario, Canada… weighing in at four hundred and twenty-five pounds… representing the eGG Bandits… he is… RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!

Rick waves to the crowd and throws two thumbs up as his goofy smile practically jumps off his face. As he makes his way down to the ring, Rick gladhands with the crowd, stops to take selfies, gestures to support signs in the audience, and even signs the occasional autograph.

Joe Hoffman: Seems like Rick is looking forward to this!

Finally reaching the ring, Rick hops up onto the apron with a mighty two foot leap and lands firmly on the apron, holding the top rope.  He wipes his boots before stepping over the top rope and makes his way to the center of the ring. The big man releases a roar as he flexes his gigantic arms and chest.

Benny Newell: Did Matthews just flinch in there? For fuck’s sake. DRINK!

Matt Boettcher checks in with both competitors as Rick stands tall in the middle of the ring and Darin sheepishly cowers far enough away to be out of his opponent’s reach. Boettcher calls for the start of the match!

DING!

Darin starts off complaining to Boettcher, pointing at Rick up and down. 

Joe Hoffman: Is Matthews complaining to the ref about his opponent’s size advantage?

Benny Newell: Ugh, I don’t know which one I hate more right now…

Boettcher shakes his head dismissively at Darin and motions to the wrestlers to fight. Rick doesn’t move a muscle. He just stands, eyeing down his opponent. Matthews, unsure how to approach his oversized adversary, shoots an open right hand above his head to the right.

Joe Hoffman: It looks like Darin’s inviting a test of strength… but with only the one hand?

The Three Word Warrior cocks his head, focused on his opponent’s raised hand. Darin’s hand starts to shake, intentionally or not, as he approaches the Canadian eGG Cracker, keeping Rick’s attention on it. The Tyrant of the Territories suddenly drops to the mat and spins, sending a sharp sweep kick to the back of Rick’s legs.

Benny Newell: That’s not good.

Rick doesn’t move. He stares down at Darin and laughs. Matthews looks terrified as Rick raises the leg his opponent tried to sweep and sends a foot down at him. But Darin scurries away just in time! Rick stalks Matthews as he scrambles to his feet, backing up into a corner.

Joe Hoffman: Things aren’t looking great for Darin here early.

Matthews frantically attempts to squeeze out of the corner, but Rick grabs him with one large arm and throws him like a rag doll back against the turnbuckles. Rick rears back his left arm and swings – 

SMACK!

OOOOOOOOOO!

Joe Hoffman: Rick’s reeling back for another! 

SMACK!

OOOOOOOOOO!

Joe Hoffman: AND A THIRD!

SMACK!

OOOOOOOOOO! 

The third backhanded strike sends Matthews down onto his ass, slumped against the bottom buckle. Rick roars to another pop from the crowd. Darin’s chest is beet red. Rick returns focus to his opponent and bends over to pick him up –

Joe Hoffman: MATTHEWS SENDS A BOOT INTO RICK’S FACE! 

Benny Newell: HERE WE FUCKIN’ GO! NOW DON’T BE A DARIN AND FUCK THIS UP!

Rick stumbles back. Darin pops up and leaps onto the top rope – without blinking he launches – 

Joe Hoffman: Matthews with a diving crossbody from the top turnbuckle! OH MY! RICK CATCHES HIM! He tosses Matthews back over his head halfway across the ring! 

Darin bounces off the mat, holding his back. He rolls around in pain and slowly gets to his feet. Rick marches over toward him, just as Matthews stands and turns, and kicks him in the gut. Darin doubles over – Rick pulls him in and lifts him up –

Joe Hoffman: Rick’slooking for a powerbomb here, but Darin’s got other ideas! He’s raining rights and lefts rapid fire down on Rick’s bald head!

Rick lets out a roar that freezes Matthews for a split second still seated on his opponent’s shoulders, he panics and sends a sharp elbow right down the crown of Rick’s dome –

Benny Newell: A beautiful elbow strike staggers the big man!

Darin kicks both legs out off the sides of Rick’s shoulders, and as he falls down the front of Mount Rick he grabs his head under one arm and snaps back –

Joe Hoffman: HUGE DDT from Matthews that started from the top of Rick’s giant frame!

Rick’s head bounces off the mat and he naturally pops up onto his knees, dizzy. Matthews jumps to his own feet – and spins quick –

Joe Hoffman: Followed with a BUZZSAW KICK! RICK’S DOWN! DARIN PINS!

Boettcher drops –

1…

2…

KICKOUT!

Matthews pops up from the failed pin attempt and pleads to Boettcher to count quicker. Matt looks disgusted with Darin, waving him off for the second time this match. As Matthews turns back toward Rick, the big Bandit leaps up from a kneeling position and nearly takes Darin’s head off with a clothesline.

Joe Hoffman: Rick just sent Matthews head over heels with that one!

Rick picks up his lifeless opponent by the hair and throws his head face down between his thighs – he lifts Darin up!

Joe Hoffman: RICK HITS THE SITDOWN POWERBOMB! HE PINS!

Boettcher drops! 

1…

2 – 

Meredith pulls on Boettcher’s leg after the 2nd count, breaking the count! 

Benny Newell: GOD LOVE THAT WOMAN!

Boettcher jumps to his feet, shouting at Meredith who acts all innocent. Rick stands up furious, marches up to Boettchers side, and points out to Meredith menacingly while barking combinations of “RICK,” “EGG,” and “ORDER” at her. Both her and Boettcher look a bit confused.

Benny Newell: He really is Groot. But dumber.

Darin takes the opportunity to crawl over to the nearest corner, still on the ground, he quickly unties the bottom turnbuckle. 

Joe Hoffman: Looks like Desperate Darin is up to something over there.

Benny Newell: I don’t see anything!

Boettcher gives a final warning to Meredith, then turns to Rick and instructs him to get back to the match. Rick, still red, nods his head and turns toward Darin, who’s just brought himself up to his feet. Matthews locks eyes with his opponent, smirks in the most shitheady of ways, then eggs Rick on with a just bring it taunt.

Benny Newell: It’s a bold strategy, Joe. Let’s see if it works out for ‘im!

Rick charges Darin, who drops and hits a toe trip sending Rick face first into the exposed turnbuckle!

Benny Newell: BINGO BANGO!

The Canadian Colossus hits the mat, rolling over onto his back, holding his face in pain. Darin jumps over Rick and up onto the top rope of that same corner. Rick slowly gets up, and turns his back to the corner unaware where his opponent is – Matthews leaps!

Joe Hoffman: THE RATINGS SPIKE FROM THE TOP ROPE!!! OH MY!

Darin uses the last of his energy to roll the big man over and cover him.

Boettcher drops!

1… 

2…

3!!!

DING! DING! DING!

Benny Newell: HE DID IT! THE SQUIRRELLY, PATHETIC PUNK FINALLY GOT HIS VICTORY OVER A BANDIT! I’M THROWING A DARIN MATTHEWS APPRECIATION NIGHT!

Bryan McVay: And your winner, The Tyrant of the Territories… DAAAAARIIIIIIIIIN! MAAAAAATTHEEEEEEEEEEEEWS!!!

The action cuts away as Matthews takes it all in after an impressive win over RICK.

The shot cuts to RICK, walking through the curtain directly after his grueling match with Darin Mathews. He’s covered in sweat as he immediately reaches for a towel from a stagehand nearby and begins to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

The crowd can still be heard trying to calm down from the action. 

RICK moves over to a table where many bottles of water on ice are laid out neatly.  As he reaches for one while wiping the sweat from his eyes, his hand meets someone else’s.  He begins feeling it, and then slowly removes the towel from his eyes as the camera angle slowly widens to show that the hand is attached to the arm of none other than his Bandit buddy Bobby Dean! 

The pair exchange a smile and both grab a bottle of water. 

“HEY YOU BIG STUPID BASTARD! WE GOT SOMETHING FOR YA! “ 

Both a confused Canadian and our formerly rotund friend turn around to see the source of the commotion. Both are surprised to see the Hollywood Bruvs running at them full speed. RICK braces for impact, Bobby Dean, meanwhile, has the biggest smile beginning to to show on his face. He steps in front of RICK, with his arms out wide and inviting, thinking Mikey’s coming in for a big hug. Yes, after all this time, the childlike innocence of the Beautiful Man really thinks all will be well between the groups with a show of affection.  It’s not. 

Bobby Dean: Mikey!!!! My bestest frie… 

BLAMMO! 

The Hollywood Bruvs both strike at the same time with their High Octane Tag Team Championships. The shot that was clearly intended for the tired and preoccupied RICK instead hits Bobby Dean head on as both titles clash with his handsome face.

The momentum of the shot knocks down both Bruvs and Bobby Dean, who is completely out cold, before he hits the floor. Even RICK goes down from being struck by Bobby as he fell. Clearly Bobby got the worst of this exchange. RICK tries to move Dean off of his legs so he can grab a Bruv or two but they move too quick. 

JFK and Mikey, back on their feet, look down and realize their mistake. 

Kendrix: Shit mate! We got the wrong one! 

His American tag partner looks down at Bobby then at RICK who’s rising to his normal hulking height, a look of pure murderous rage on his face. 

Mikey Unlikely: Oh well! Let’s get the hell out of here!

Kendrix: Yeah, bruv.  Fuck him and his iced coffee.

The Bruvs share a quick gluefist before quickly running off as RICK, finally up on his feet, takes a couple steps towards them. He stops, turns around and can’t help but grimace as Bobby lies there on the floor. Officials are scrambling towards the scene and RICK is forced to just stand there, watching as the officials attempt waking Bobby Dean. A furious look crosses the big man’s face… he turns around and with one last look at his fallen Bandit brother, he heads off down the hall, trying to find the other Bandits as we head back to ringside.

Back live and The Mega Man 3 Remix music plays over the PA as one of the newcomers to HOW, Conor Fuse, walks out from behind the curtain. He is followed by his hulking henchman, The Game Boy, as “The Vintage” casually strolls down the ramp with TGB lagging behind, yet still watching over him.

Joe Hoffman: Conor is fresh off his “victory” against Erin Gordon last week.

Benny Newell: And in fine fashion, I might say! I heard he hasn’t stopped talking about the W all week!

Joe Hoffman: I can only imagine.

Benny Newell: Well, I’m sure we’ll get some insight in mere seconds!

Conor races up the steel stairs and clears the top rope by leaping over. He asks for a microphone while The Game Boy waits on the outside, arms crossed, ensuring Conor is protected inside the squared circle.

Conor Fuse: Hello goombas!

Fuse pauses with a smile and a chuckle, like he was very proud of the jab he just took at the crowd.

Conor Fuse: I came out here to explain a few things. As you know, I am THE talk of the HOW Community after my hard fought victory against Erin Gordon. I didn’t know a thing about her when the match got announced but I did my homework and boy oh boy, eh Game Boy, I showed her who’s Boss!

Conor pauses again and runs a hand through his wild dirty-blonde hair. He seems to be in deep thought, trying to make sure he puts the correct words together for what’s about to come.

Conor Fuse: However, I’ve been reading up on how I scored a “cheap victory” against Erin. Apparently, she had me beat until my pal over there pulled me outta the ring, yadda yadda yadda. I want to make something loud and clear, the idea that “cheating” to win is somehow frowned upon in wrestling is such a hypocritical notion and it needs to end now. Right now!

Benny Newell: He’s got a point!

Joe Hoffman: He does not.

Conor takes a moment to collect himself, slowly breathing in and out.

Conor Fuse: My mantra, that this world is a video game and all of that, well, it truly is a video game! For those of you gamers out there, when you beat a game on cheat codes, or skip a few levels, I bet all of you still pat yourself on the back and consider you’ve beaten it no matter what short path you took! I’ll do you one better, one that can relate to everyone in this building! When you go to work and put in 50%, day-in and day-out, on your way home I’m sure all of you think you’ve worked extremely hard. Either way, it’s not like you’ll only receive 50% of your paycheck…

Conor walks to the cameraman on the apron. He grows a little agitated.

Conor Fuse: Every single one of you, when presented with difficulties in life will find your own ways for cheat codes and the “easy way out”. Tell me I’m wrong, because I am not.

Benny Newell: Not wrong! Preach!

Conor marches to the middle of the ring and readjusts his lime green bandana.

Conor Fuse: So, I did nothing different than any of you. The idea my victory means less because it wasn’t clean, as you say, is utter nonsense!

Conor motions to The Game Boy to give a thumbs up but the mute man doesn’t do anything.

Conor Fuse: Now, let me tell you more about myself. I work as hard as possible, day in and day out to become the BEST high flyer in this system! I have gone from typecasted tag teamer, to a legitimate threat on arguably the biggest stage possible, High Octane Wrestling. I bleed wrestling! Everyday I wake up and I say to myself I need to get better. I need to push myself further. Nobody knows me here. You may have judged me already but I have way more surprises left in store. When I signed that HOW contract, I had to make an impression! So I began my own webcast to grow my fanbase of Gamers and Gamettes. I did background checks on every single person in the back so when they enter this ring, I know everything about them already. I didn’t stop at HOW, I looked at their entire life stories! If they had hemorrhoids, I know about it. And I’ll kick every one of them in the ass!

Conor pauses, smirks and gives a wink into the camera.

Conor Fuse: But that doesn’t mean I won’t take an opportunity when it presents itself. That’s why I have… him.

Conor points to The Game Boy on the outside.

Conor Fuse: I take a short-cut here and a short-cut there, big deal. We all do it. It should be celebrated!

“The Vintage” allows for light jeers to develop before he continues.

Conor Fuse: I’m ONE-and-O! Straight to the top! I should skip the middle levels and go right to the end… fight the main Boss and get this all over with!

Conor glances to the The Game Boy again, as if asking for approval. While TGB is normally stoic with his arms crossed, this time he shakes his head no ever so slightly, like that wouldn’t be the best idea. Conor clues in and changes the topic immediately.

Conor Fuse: So Level 2, I’m ready to play! Unlike the match announcement against Erin Gordon, NOTHING can catch me by surprise anymore! NOTH-ING.

Conor starts picking people off and pointing to them in the crowd.

Conor Fuse: I have your cheat code and your cheat code and your, well, LOL, dream on buddy, you’d never make it in here.

Joe Hoffman: Did he say LOL?

Conor Fuse: And your cheat code and your cheat codes, too!

“The Vintage” walks into the middle of the squared circle again, looking directly at the hard camera.

Conor Fuse: Come one, come all. I am ready and I would like to play! Thank you!

Fuse bows as his theme music plays. He drops the mic, exits the ring and tussles The Game Boy on the top of the head like he’s a little puppy.

Joe Hoffman: I feel like that took years off my life. I’m already sick of this guy.

Benny Newell: Well, like I said last week, usually when some new guys lose they end up quitting. Maybe if he takes his first L, you won’t have to put up with him anymore!

Joe Hoffman: Somehow, I don’t see that happening. A loss might even make things worse. We’ll be back after this!

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back everyone. Up next, we have the young upstart of the eGG Bandits, Zeb Martin, going against Texas Wrestling Royalty, Scott Stevens. Zeb is coming off a win a couple shows back, while Stevens is trying to find his footing. Who do you like in this one, Benny?

Benny Newell: Are you holding a gun to my head?

Joe Hoffman: No.

Benny Newell: Good, because even if you were I still wouldn’t pick Scott Stevens– and I really don’t know much about this Zed kid besides not knowing much about him, and he likes eggs. Nerd.

Joe Hoffman: Clearly. And on that note, here comes Zeb Martin.

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. 

Brian McVay: Coming down the aisle, from Comer, Georgie, standing six feet, one inch tall… weighing 235 pounds… representing the yolk and shell… ZEEEEEEEEEEEEEEBBBBBBBBbbbbb…. MARTINNNNNnNNNNNN!!!!

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.

“DEAD MAN WALKING” – CRUCIFIX (FEAT. THE LACS) begins to play.

Out steps Stevens.

Brian McVay: Coming to the ring, from Houston, Texas, standing six feet, six inches tall, weighing in at 256 pounds and making fifty-seven thousand and six hundred dollars a year…. HE IS!!! THE SCOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SCOTT! STEVENS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Stevens walks to the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Stevens recently reconnected with Charles Greene, a former trainer of his. Maybe that’s the difference maker here tonight?

Benny Newell: Have I asked you if you had a gun yet?

Stevens reaches the ring. He walks up the steps, steps between the ropes, and gives Zeb a look like it’s about to go down.

Joe Hoffman: I think Hortega might have his hands full with this one Benny. Stevens looks determined. But then again, so does Zeb.

Benny Newell: Who is Zeb?

DING~!

Joe Hoffman: And we are underway!

Stevens and Zeb lock horns in the center of the ring. The brutish Texan overpowers Martin, throwing him backwards and onto his back. He then looks down at his opponent, brushing his hands off at a job well done.

Joe Hoffman: I don’t think Zeb was expecting Scott to be this strong. He can’t believe it.

Benny Newell: Eh… nah, not even gonna bother second guessing it. Nope.

Indeed, Zeb, who is now on a knee, looks up at Scott with a look of surprise. However, the look is quickly washed over by one of determination. He goes charging in, drives his shoulder into Stevens’ abdomen, and begins to push him back to the corner. Stevens, the taller, stronger, bigger man, uses all of the things just mentioned to his advantage and slams on the breaks. He reaches high into the air, and then drops Zeb to the mat with a thunderous double axe handle smash across the Bandit upstart’s back.

Joe Hoffman: Steven’s isn’t playing any games tonight, Benny.

Benny Newell: If only he had a Jordan like follow through.

The Scorpion wastes no time and drops down on top of Zeb. He wrenches in a headlock, while peppering Martin with a few jabs to the face. He even rakes the Bandit’s eyes, which allows him to lock in The Venomous Wrath of the Goddess Selket.

Joe Hoffman: Stevens taking a page out of JFK’s book with the crossface submission. The tag champ used the same move on Zeb a few weeks back.

Hortega asks Zeb if he’s had enough, but while the Bandit upstart is pushing a “no” out of his mouth he manages to slip free of Steven’s grasp. He rolls away from the infuriated Texan, who had his opponent right where he wanted him. Stevens moves in, Zeb ducks under a clothesline attempt and delivers a dropkick. Stevens doesn’t go down, instead he reels backwards into the ropes and bounces forward with momentum. Zeb dives down at his feet, hitting the mat belly first. Stevens jumps over, and Zeb pops up behind him. Stevens bounces off the opposing ropes, and comes steaming back. He goes for another clothesline, and it gets ducked yet again. Zeb winds up, but Stevens blocks the punch. After a second or two of stalemating, Zeb kicks Stevens in the gut, and then spikes him with a DDT!

Joe Hoffman: What an exchange!

Benny Newell: Told ya.

Joe Hoffman: Quick cover!

Hortega drops to the mat. Zeb hooks the leg.

Uno.

Dos.

KICKOUT.

Joe Hoffman: Stevens powers out at two! 

Zeb springs to his feet, and pulls the Texan upright. He peppers him a few times and then whips Stevens into the ropes. Stevens, still groggy, bounces back and Zeb nails him with a Soman Drop.

Benny Newell: Who’d have thought the kid had it in him? How much does Stevens way again? 290?

Joe Hoffman: 256, Benny. You heard it at the start of the match.

Benny Newell: Oh. Right. Still.

The Scorpion rolls around writhing on the mat, stung from the drop. Zeb is back on his feet, he stalks over towards his prey, casts his rod out and hooks Stevens right in the mouth. Literally, he hooked his index finger and shoved it in Stevens mouth.

Joe Hoffman: Maybe a little payback here from eye rake earlier.

Hortega breaks the hold, and admonishes Zeb. The upstart points to his eyes, pleading his case. All the while, The Scorpion gathers his strength.

Joe Hoffman: Ut-oh, Benny! Zeb better look out! Stevens is up, and madder than fish out of water!

Poised to strike, Stevens lurks behind Zeb, maybe wondering if it’s time to finish him off, or maybe wondering what his hair tastes like. That’s his facial expression. Instead of attacking Zeb from behind though, he waits for him to turn around, and then levels him with a Discus Clothesline.

Joe Hoffman: He landed that one, Benny!

Benny Newell: Finally. Still not enough. 

Joe Hoffman: We’re about to find out!

Hortega drops to the mat once again.

Uno.

DOS!

TR-KICKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: SO CLOSE! I thought he might have had him.

Stevens slaps the mat in frustration, and yells at Hortega to count faster. He gathers himself, and gets up on his feet. He then reaches down, grabs Zeb by the hair, shoves the upstart’s head between his legs, and mouths off to the crowd.

Joe Hoffman: Moral Compass! If he hits it, it’s over!

Benny Newell: Maybe I was wrong.

Stevens goes to lift Zeb, and spike him for a Piledriver. Zeb grabs on to The Scorpion’s legs, not allowing himself to go upright. Both men struggle, until Zeb lets go?

Joe Hoffman: What the?

The force of Stevens pulling up on Martin, and Zeb’s sudden release, cause the young upstart  to slingshot up into a powerbomb position. Stevens, not expecting it, loses his balance, and more importantly his grip, and starts to tilt backwards.

This allows Zeb to slip out of the hold.

On his way down, he smoothly transitions with modified guillotine drop.

Benny Newell: Neck Cricker out of nowhere! He got all of it! The hick just caught a Scorpion! 

Not wanting to spend another moment with the ever dangerous Stevens, Zeb quickly covers him. Hortega drops down. Zeb hooks the leg.

Uno.

Dos.

Tres.

Bryan Mcvay: Winner of the match via pinfall….ZEB MAARRRRRRTINNNN!!!!

Joe Hoffman: WOW! Zeb showing some resolve here tonight and picks up another win. 

Benny Newell: What I tell you, Joe? Never in doubt! DRINK!

Joe Hoffman: Never in doubt? You JINXED Stevens! He was doing fine until you came aboard.

Benny Newell: I was just making sure you were paying attention. That’s all! Tough crowd. Jeesh. Might need a gun moving forward.

The action cuts away from the announce team to elsewhere inside the AllState Arena.

Cut backstage just outside the Group of Death locker room, where Blaire Moise is standing with Dan Ryan, who towers over her as usual. She has her full attention on the camera, although her body language shows clear unease as she side-eyes the uncomfortably still giant of a man standing next to her.

Ryan is looking down on her, his braced arm slightly behind her and hanging to his side. He has a dark pair of jeans on with some casual shoes. He has a t-shirt on, clearly meant to draw attention, with a large image of Andy Murray’s face front and center, and just underneath, a hashtag:

#sayhisname

Moise sees it, but gives it no mention as she brings the microphone to her lips.

Blaire Moise: I’m backstage at the Group of Death locker room with GoD member Dan Ryan, who just last week was not only victorious alongside HOW World Champion Mike Best over Scott Stevens and Eric Dane, but also was the perpetrator of one of the more violent episodes in recent HOW after the show. Mr. Ryan, word has been going around all week speculating about the condition of Andy Murray, with no concrete news coming thus far. What do you have to say about your attack last week?

Ryan looks at Blaire — he had been staring at her the whole time, to be fair, to be fair to Blaire — but he held the look just one moment longer than is comfortable, then sighed in a very concerned manner.

Dan Ryan: Listen, like most of the people who work for High Octane, I too am concerned about the well-being of Andy Murray. No one has any info about Andy Murray. No one has any details on Andy Murray’s condition, and no one knows what will become of Andy Murray’s scheduled defense of the ICON Championship at No Remorse, where Andy Murray was scheduled to defend against me in a match I’ve been looking forward to since Andy Murray came to High Octane, proclaimed Andy Murray the King of Wrestling, took us on a journey of knee injuries and Scottish linguistics and made sure that Andy Murray would be a name never forgotten in the annals of High Octane history.

Blaire’s eyes are drawn to Ryan’s t-shirt.

Dan Ryan: I see your eyes are drawn to my t-shirt.

Blaire isn’t impressed.

Dan Ryan: The GoD’s honest truth is that a man with Andy Murray’s stature cannot, should not simply be forgotten just because of an unfortunate backstage mishap. I for one will honor him in the best way that I can, by keeping his name relevant no matter his current physical condition. He may be laid up in a hospital somewhere, eating pureed haggis and drinking his daily allotment of lager through an uncomfortably placed catheter, but I insist that he be remembered for being the legend of this business that he is, so I will make it my absolute mission in life to make sure the name of Andy Murray lives on. Here, Blaire…

Ryan pulls another “#sayhisname” t-shirt from behind his back and tosses it over her shoulder, and pats it to make sure it stays in place.

Dan Ryan: I got you one. I know I can count on your support.

Blaire Moise: Mr. Ryan, you say he suffered an unfortunate backstage mishap, but everyone knows you broke into the 24K suite last week and perpetrated a terrible attack on him…

Dan Ryan: Say his name, Blaire…

Blaire Moise: Ahem… on Andy Murray… and that you’re responsible for his current state of affairs.

Ryan scrunches up his face, making the Donald Trump debate meme face.

Dan Ryan: Come on Blaire, gimme a break. The truth is, three or four weeks ago now, I felt a twinge in my elbow and I’ve been trying hard to figure out how to move forward with the injury. I was able to consult with a fantastic orthopedic doctor friend over in Japan, who fashioned this brace for me, but I wasn’t quite sure, you know? It’s just been a series of tests since then. I tried it on for size while calmly watching Andy Murray defend the ICON against a lump of clay that looked like Scott Stevens, then the following week, I had a lovely time doing an interview with you in this very spot…

Blaire shudders.

Blaire Moise: I.. remember.

Ryan puts a reassuring thumb on her cheek.

Dan Ryan: Don’t worry, you were never in danger — a simple target practice, as it were… and then last week, I’m to understand that some leaked security footage from my property was released online showing my field testing because, look Blaire, I have to know I can count on this thing to hold up. I need to know that if I’m using my usual offense, I won’t suffer any further damage.

Blaire Moise: In fact, the footage, since you’re speaking openly about it, showed some bleeding after you uh.. tested… your brace out on a big oak tree.

Dan Ryan: Merely a flesh wound. The more important result was that I gained confidence that it would do the job it was intended for.

Blaire Moise: Protecting your elbow.

Ryan looks at her, a wry grin forming.

Dan Ryan: Precisely.

Moise brings the microphone back down, slowly.

Blaire Moise: So.. your attack on Andy Murray last week… that was more… testing?

Dan Ryan: Does it make any sense to you that I would go into a match as important as an ICON Title shot against Andy Murray, without knowing what would happen to me if I were to throw an elbow at Andy Murray without testing it first? Do you not realize how thick that giant head of his actually is?

Blaire Moise: How do you explain the multiple stomps on his exposed knee, the sandwiching of it inside a chair you literally ripped from its frame… how do you explain tossing him from the balcony…. (Moise begins to show some obvious emotion in her voice) …how do you explain almost killing a man??

Ryan’s expression, the faint insincere smile and jovial mocking countenance, drains from his face in an instant.

Dan Ryan: Say his name, Blaire.

Blaire Moise stares up into the cold unmoving eyes of Dan Ryan, and nothing moves, not his glassy eyes trained on hers, nothing but his chest silently breathing, and her blood runs cold again.

Blaire Moise: Mr. Ryan… how do you explain what you did to Andy Murray last week?

Nothing changes as he looks through her, a wry toothy grin overcoming his face.

Dan Ryan: Blaire, I don’t owe you or anyone else an explanation, and if I were you, I wouldn’t expect one anytime soon. Now, I don’t know what Lee Best has in store for No Remorse. I don’t know if he plans on wheeling Andy Murray to the ring Weekend at Murray’s style. I don’t know if he’s stripping Murray of the title. I don’t know anything except this. One way or another, I will be the ICON champion. You understand?

She doesn’t smile, but the intense glare from the much larger man makes it clear he expects some sort of response, so she nods.

His empty smile returns.

Dan Ryan: Now then…

He reaches for the t-shirt across her shoulder, straightens it so that Andy Murray’s face and the “#sayhisname” can be seen, and gives Blaire Moise a reassuring wink.

Dan Ryan: You enjoy the rest of your evening.

With that, he turns and goes through the Group of Death dressing room door, leaving Blaire Moise there again, shaking her head as we head to commercial.

Back live and we cut immediately to the ring announcer as its time for our Tag Team Championship Match.

Bryan McVay:  The following contest is a tag team match schedule for ONE FALL and is for the HOW WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS!!

The opening chords of “Wolf Toten” scream across the speakers as he steps out onto the stage. Looking out he slowly makes his way to ringside. Kostoff circles the ring before sliding in.

Bryan McVay:  Introducing first, one half of our challengers!  From Tampa, Flordia weighing in at 285 pounds……CHRIIIIIIIIISSSSS KOOOOOOOOOSTOFF!!!!!!!!!

Kostoff’s music cuts off as Gilda Starr comes out to ring side without any music with Jatt Star wheeling down to ringside as Kostoff just stares a hole into both members of the Starr Family.  Gilda looks very timid, wary of Kostoff as he towers over her.  Jatt Starr hollers over at Kostoff to get out of Gilda’s ring.  Kostoff glares a hole into them as Bryan McVay finishes the entrances and the crowd boos.  Jatt Starr rolls over to McVay and motions to him to make him read off a card.

Bryan McVay:  And making her High Octane Wrestling debut tonight.  She is the daughter HOW Hall of Famer and former HOW Champion and current HOW ROOOOOOLE MODEL TO THE JATTLANTIANS:  Jatt Star.  Please welcome at this time, his daughter and FUTURE HALL OF FAMER TO HOW’S RANKS……GILLLLLLLLLDA STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!

The crowd boos as Jatt motions for her to get in the ring.  She steps in and stares Kostoff straight in the eyes.  She freezes as everyone just laughs at the size difference between the two competitors.

Joe Hoffman:  Lee Best knows damn well that this is a trainwreck.  The Hollywood Bruvs have teamed for years.  He’s blatantly setting up Kostoff to weaken him before their fight at No Remorse.

Benny Newell:  What are you gonna do about it Hoffhole?  You stand up to Lee Best and you might lose your job and your eye.  Don’t balk at the boss.  You will pay the price.

The camera zooms out slowly to reveal the Hollywood Bruvs decked out in the latest and greatest Bruvs 24K t-shirts and of course the HOW Tag Team Titles around their waists.  The spotlight shines down on them as they’re gloating and absorbing the hatred of the HOW crowd tonight.  They keep pointing at their Tag Team Championships, walking down towards the ring and pointing, gloating, and mocking their challengers all at the same time as they make their way to ringside.  They hop in the ring and hold the belts in their opponents faces.

Bryan McVay:  And here’s their opponents.   They are your current reigning and defendingHOW World Tag Team Champions…..MIIIIIIIIKEY UUNNNNNNNNLIKKKKKKELY…..JESSSSSSSEE KENNNNNNDRIX….THE HOOOOOOLLLLLLLLYWWOOOOOD BRUUUUUUUVS.

Matt Boettcher takes the HOW Tag Team Championships and raises them up in the air.  Mikey Unlikely and Kendrix discuss who should get in the ring before Mikey finally steps into the ring.  Kostoff doesn’t hesitate to go straight on the outside and points at Gilda.  He’s a monster, but he isn’t stupid.  He knows Lee’s up to something and will not hesitate at anything.  Gilda stands there in the ring, still frozen upon her debut as the crowd just goes insane.  Boettcher rings the bell and Mikey Unlikely walks up to her and just gawks.

DING!  DING!  DING!  DING!

Joe Hoffman:  Oh come on!  Jatt’s kid’s got stage fright?  This is unadulterated….

Benny Newell:  Don’t you dare cuss!  It breaks the God damn fourth wall and Lee will kill you for that, Joe.

Joe Hoffman:  Fine!  It’s just wrong that Lee’s doing this tonight.

Benny Newell:  Well I am for one happy.  Look at Mikey showing Gilda some respect in that ring.  He was once in her shoes.  He’s being so supportive of the girl.  She’s living her dreams here tonight thanks to our benevolent, great, fearless and amazing leader tonight.  He patted her on the back to show his support.

Joe Hoffman:  You’ve got some brown on your nose, Benny.

Benny Newell:  What wear?

Mikey continues to taunt and gloat Gilda.  He almost feels sorry for her.  He tries to lock her up in a headlock, but she immediately lifts her foot straight up and nails him in the groin.  Her once so innocent smile curves around her ears, almost like she’s got a few marbles loosened up.  She laughs almost psychotically as she sees Mikey laying on the ground, holding his balls.   Mikey slowly picks himself off the mat, but she charges towards Mikey Unlikely and just unleashes a picture perfect Enzuguri straight to his forehead bringing him down.

Joe Hoffman:  WHAT THE…?!

Benny Newell:  Oh you didn’t get the wrap sheet on Gilda?  Yeah, Jatt’s daughter might seem off at times, but she has this thing about inflicting pain.  It’s why her dad suggested she get into the business in the first place.  She loves to torture people.  Clearly has a knack for it.  She might have some other “problems” but her father thinks the world of his precious daughter and you better not make fun of her.

Joe Hoffman:  I had no idea!!!

Benny Newell:  Mind games, Hoffhole, mind games!  Told you this is a fair fight.

Mikey tries to escape towards his corner, but Gilda just loses all control.  She just hammers the hell out of Mikey with lefts and rights straight at him.  Without thinking or having a presence for Tag Team wrestling, she kicks Mikey into his corner and Jesse wastes no time to tag in his partner.  He wastes no time and tries to hit a German Suplex on her, but she lands on her feet and her eyes burn with intensity.  Jesse rushes towards her to hit the spinning neck breaker, but she catches him and immediately locks in and armbar and takes him down to the mat and wrenches it in heavily.  As she’s trying to yank Jesse’s arm out of socket, Mikey hits a drop kick right to her face and takes her out.  Both Bruvs send her flying into the ropes before nailing a double super kick combination to bring her down.  Boettcher forces Mikey out of the ring as Jatt is screaming at Boettcher to call it down the middle.  Meanwhile, Kostoff’s trying to get the crowd to rally behind Gilda, much to his surprise, she’s taking it to the Tag Team Champions alone.

Joe Hoffman:  Kendrix with the running knee to the face right in the corner and quick tag into Mikey again who chops her straight in the chest and BOOM!  Back drop!  The Bruvs are keeping Gilda locked down after the beginning of the match.  They’re not underestimating her any more.  Both are stomping at her face.

Benny Newell:   You don’t put baby Starr in the corner.  Rumor has it she’s possessed by demons and she will fucking hurt you  Watch!

Boettcher starts the five count and Jesse goes back into the corner.  Mikey locks her into a sleeper hold after pulling her from the corner.  The crowd gets behind Gilda and she gets to her feet straight up tosses him over her shoulder.  As Mikey gets back to his feet, she twists his nipples, then  headbutts him.  Mikey’s fed up with this.  As she rushes over towards him, he hits a stiff clothesline and sends her into her corner.

Blind Tag by Kostoff.

Mikey keeps his focus on Gilda and nails a sick Lungblower Powerbomb on her.  She rolls out of the ring and Jatt rolls over to check on his daughter.  Mikey gloats at Gilda while Kostoff slowly towers behind him like Godzilla about to destroy a city.    Mikey feels his shadow as slowly turns around and meets a knee straight into his stomach.  Kostoff overpowers Mikey and hits a nasty Dominator on him, just wailing on him.  Kendrix rushes towards Kostoff, but Kostoff hits a massive boot on Kendrix sending him back.  Clotheslines fly left and right on both Bruvs as Kostoff just unleashes a sick vengeance on both Bruvs showing of his brute power.

Joe Hoffman:  I’m not a betting man, Benny, but I think Kostoff and Gilda Starr could be your future HOW Tag Team Champions.  I’m beginning to think Lee Best didn’t know what he was doing with this tag team.

Jesse rolls off towards the side of for a minute as Boettcher has lost all control of the match.  Kostoff focuses on Mikey and nails a sick, sick Brainbuster on him to where Mikey is seizing up in the ring.  Kostoff makes the cover on him.

ONE!

TWO!

NO!  Kendrix kicks Kostoff in the skull and Kostoff’s pissed.  Kendrix tries to go back on the inside of the ring, but Kostoff grabs him and pulls him back in the ring.  He lands a sick DDT on Kendrix.  Mikey sneaks up and nails Kostoff straight in the balls with his fist bringing him down.  Mikey plants him down with a DDT of his own then tag Kendrix into the match.  Kostoff gets back to his feet, but both Kendrix and Mikey hit a combination superkick, knee buckling take down on the monster.  They pick him up and nail a double DDT, before Kendrix takes control.  Kendrix tries to choke Kostoff by with his foot, but Kostoff throws it off.  Kendrix then charges at Kostoff with a knee into his face.  Kostoff is slowly fading.  Kostoff tries to get back to his feet, but Kendrix nails a bull dog. Kendrix tags back into Mikey and Mikey kicks him straight in the face.  Mikey hits a swinging neck breaker and puts him in a headlock.  He reaches out to tag Kendrix, they connect and Kendrix comes in with a stiff super kick as Mikey pulls him down with a Russian Leg Sweep.

Kostoff sees Gilda slowly recovering in the corner.  It fuels him.  Anger continues to cause him to seeth as Kendrix just stomps at his back and the Bruvs keep using quick tag combinations of moves wearing down the man who killed death itself.  As the Bruvs try to apply a double submission combination, he shoots Mikey off his legs and finds his second wind.  Kostoff picks Kendrix up and slams up with a back suplex.  Mikey tries to come at Kostoff, but he ducks then nails a sick shoulder tackle.  The Bruvs rush towards Kostoff trying to Double DDT him again, but Kostoff reverses the momentum, holds both Bruvs up in the air with a double stalling suplex and plants them on the ring.

He’s breathing, tired, and broken as he crawls towards Gilda.

Joe Hoffman:  I’ve never seen the big man breathe so heavily.  He’s worn out from all the matches Lee’s put him in.  He’s gotta tag Gilda back in if he has any hope of winning the HOW Tag Team Championships from the Bruvs.

Benny Newell:  I gotta say Kostoff and Gilda make a sick twisted Tag Team with their knowledge of torturing their opponents.  But I don’t know how Gilda’s holding up.  She keeps holding her brain.  Mikey dropped her hard on her head.

Joe Hoffman:  You never know.  COME ON BIG MAN!  TAG HER IN!  COME ON!

Kostoff slowly inches towards Gilda to tag her, but immediately Jatt wheels over and pulls his daughter off the ropes and lectures her in the middle of the match.  He keeps yelling at her to not go back in and that she will hurt herself.  Gilda and Jatt argue as Gilda feels perfectly fine, its just a flesh wound.  Kostoff’s eyes light up with intensity as he starts to climb over the turnbuckle and gets ready to kill Jatt for this.  Gilda wants back in that match, but Jatt continues to shield his daughter screaming at her “you’ll thank me later for this, daughter.”  He’s holding her back while Kendrix slides under Kostoff to get the momentum for the Dominator.  Mikey doesn’t take another split second and charges at him while he’s coming down to hit the running cutter to Kostoff and they drop him sickeningly straight on the top of his head.  Jatt snaps his head around and simply smiles as he knows exactly what he did to the Big Man.

Benny Newell:  Hollywood Boulevard right onto Kostoff.  That’s all she wrote for the big man, Joe.

Joe Hoffman:  Please kick out!  Please kick out!  Please kick out.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!!!!!

Bryan McVay: Winner of the match and STILL TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD……THE HOLLYWOOD BRUUUUUUVVVVSSSSSSS!!!

Jatt gets out of the way as Gilda looks on disappointed and frustrated that both Bruvs retained their tag titles and Jatt pushes his daughter up the ramp leaving Kostoff to fend for himself in the ring.  Boettcher hands the Tag Team Titles to both Bruvs, but not satisfied with their work only being half way done.  Both Bruvs charge at Kostoff nailing him in the head with the Tag Team Titles to leave a message.

Joe Hoffman:  DANG IT BRUVS!  That man could have a traumatic brain injury….

Benny Newell:  That man no sold death.  He’ll be fine tomorrow.

Joe Hoffman:  There was no reason they should have hit him after they won.

Benny Newell:  It’s called dominance.  They wanted to show the Bandits what they’re getting themselves into.  Don’t mess with the Bruvs, Hoffhole.  Otherwise, they’ll leave you for dead…and not the kind Kostoff comes back from!

The Bruvs smile as they hoist the Tag Team Titles above their head and celebrate their win over HOW’s greatest threat Chris Kostoff as the action cuts elsewhere.

The shot opens backstage.

The eGG Basket.

The usual carton of eggs is missing quite a few. Bobby is gone. He’s been whisked away to his home away from home to get a check up on both of his heads. RICK, guilt ridden, went with him. Zeb, being the nice guy that he is, also took the jaunt.

That means only Dooze and Jiles remain.

A distraught Maestro is sitting on a folding chair, gazing down through his T-shades in utter disbelief. Doozer sits across from him. His focus is narrow, and his usual electric blue eyes are ice cold.

Jiles: We should have done it. We should have gone out there and cost them the titles! Fair is fair!

Doozer: No. We wanted them to win. This way, all of us will get to see them fall.

Jiles: Yeah, you’re right. I’m so bitter right now I can’t even think straight. I just can’t believe… those rat fucks. I’m gonna kill them. That’s what they want, isn’t it?. Why else would they???

Doozer: They don’t care, Cancer. They are like you in this regard. They do as they please. Not so much fun being on the other side, is it now?

Jiles: No it is not.

Awkward silence.

Doozer: Listen, Bobby will be fine. He’s been bit by worse. Plus, RICK isn’t going to leave his side. He’ll keep him protected. So will Zeb.

Jiles: Regardless, it happened again. Those Mongos already burned out our heart, and now they’ve attacked our soul. I know this much, you’re not leaving my sight. 

Doozer: Oh?

Jiles: Not until after No Remorse and we’ve personally seen to it those insipid hacks are Totally Eggsecuted.

Doozer: Oh really? 

Jiles: Really.

Doozer: It’s been a while for us. I don’t think we’ve shared the same ring since March 2 Glory— outside of tonight’s coming ladder shenanigans that is. Are you saying it’s time?

Jiles: After tonight, we continue making things right. Together. Me and you.

Doozer: Hmmmm. We said nev—

Jiles: I know what’s been said. I need you. I tried to shoulder the burden myself– I wanted to protect us by doing it on my own so no one else would get hurt. Now, with Bobby going down again, I realize I can’t. I need your help, Dooze. I need it now. I need it next week against Cecil, and I need it to take on the Bruvs at No Remorse.

Content, The Dooze smiles. He doesn’t get little caring nuggets like that from High Chief Graybush often. Even if some are backsided assumptions.

Doozer: Lift your head up.

The Maestro snaps his head upward, and locks eyes with Dooze.

Doozer: You never needed to ask. It was, and always will be, a given. You’ve taken us this far… carrying the Bandits for the better part of the last four months. It’s been amazing watching you work. It would be an honor to take that walk with you once again. I just hope I can keep up.

The Maestro uncomfortably laughs off the compliment.

Doozer: And hey, it’s not your fault things shook out the way that they did. You know who to blame for that. You’ve been screaming it at everyone for the past two weeks.

The Maestro nods, finding comfort in Doozer’s words.

Jiles: Good.

Doozer: Good.

Jiles: Good!

Doozer: GOOD.

Jiles: GOOD.

Doozer: Enough! We still have a ladder match to partake in, and I could think of worse ways to make ourselves feel better about the prior going ons of tonight. 

Jiles: Point taken. Hey, no matter what happens out there, remember, one of us has to win.

There’s a flex and a finger point accompanying the last comment.

Doozer: That’s better.

Action cuts away…

A prisoner transporter van dominates the view in the Allstate Arena parking lot. It is heavily guarded by Scott Woodson’s trusted H.A.T.E guards as they congregate at the rear.

The camera then swoops through the darkened window and inside of the prisoner transporter and there sits none other than Pikey Fuck himself, Hughie Freeman. He remains shackled; fresh out of the joint and right back into reality of High Octane Wrestling.

Hughie Freeman: RICK..

Hughie gets startled by the camera’s presence as he looks mildly confused.

Hughie Freeman: RIIIIIICCCCCKKKKKKKKK..

Hughie calls out his pen-pals name rather extravagantly.

Hughie Freeman: RIIIIIIIIIIICCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK…

Wider mouth and even more prolonged. Seemingly pining.

Hughie Freeman: RRRRRRIIIIIIIIICCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK….

Joe Hoffman: We’ll be right back after these messages, folks, don’t go away.

Hughie Freeman:RRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIICCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK…..

The folly repeats itself right the way up to cut-off to our next commercial break.

“I don’t think you appreciate how much effort I’ve invested in you, Mike.”

The growl of the Minister’s voice crept over a darkened screen as we are shown a congregation of disheveled individuals standing outside the old Tampa Five Time Academy. The skies are darkened as the wind has begun to pick up. The group of zealots part as a white and red High Octane Prius, debatably an oxymoron and beloved company car, pulls up just outside of the buildings boarded up doors and windows.

“And thinking about it I should have seen this coming. All the signs were there but then, you know how it is, blinded by feelings.. Heh-heh.. I blame myself. I should have known it wouldn’t matter if I had on Max’s face.. Or Cecilworth’s or Lee Best himself. Mike Best was going to get bored at some point and stop caring.” 

The back doors of the Prius pop open as the Minister slips out like an octopus putting on a threat display. His chest is puffed out, his face pulled back into a neat sneer, his arms coiled behind his back while he moved to the doors with a surprising fluidity. From behind him a woman, her face covered with a bag, is shoved out and dragged behind him by two EPU guards wearing the white masks with #97Red crosses on it.

“I feel into that trap of believing I was going to be the one to change you, that it was going to be who was able to break you, to twist you into the weapon I need you to be. That was my pride, my arrogance, Mike. I should have known better, as I said earlier. I’m a flawed man and part of making us better is knowing when we make mistakes and admitting. I’m going to try to be better, Mike.”

The group moves into the now dimly lit Five Time Academy which appears to have now become a kind of squatters home where members of the Congregation have set up tents and sleeping bags. Moving past the lobby and into the main gym the whole atmosphere takes on a more 80ies style bad guy lair. The gym equipment is once again being used while pallets of building supplies and food stashes lined the walls.

“..and when this is over, I pray that you’ll be better too.”

Hanging from the ceiling above the ring are three mannikins who appear to have been made to look like Mikey Unlikely and Kendrix joining Perfection in their place within the Minister’s Congregation. The ring beneath it has been cleaned up but still looks to have considerable weather damage, dark stains and sagging ropes reflective of the distressed, rundown motiff the Minister seems to indulge.

The white suited Minister arrives with the rest of his party, climbing into the ring while his face remains locked into an unapologetic sneer. He doesn’t look angry so much as disappointed, filled with a kind of bewildered disgust as his eyes stare off into the distance. The woman with the bag over her head is dragged up and into the ring where she is forced down onto her knees. Minister’s red eye burns brightly, flickering with intensity for a few moments, before he speaks.

The Minister: Have you ever planned a surprise birthday party for a friend? And I don’t mean some post work, we got you a gluten free cupcake cause your ass is getting fat Beth, surprise birthday party.. I mean you hire a singer, you commission a clown, you go out and get a bunch of embarrassing party favors so that that, ten years from now, when you find one you can reflect on what a magical moment it all was.. Kinda surprise Birthday.. And then..

With a sigh the Minister lifts his chin, spindly fingers moving to the bridge of his nose, pinching tightly as his metal teeth grind together.

The Minister: ..the piece of shit tells you they’re fucking Jovah’s Witnesses and they don’t fucking celebrate Birthdays. Very upsetting. But!.. But.. my problem isn’t that I put in too much effort on Mike, no, no. My problem is that I overestimated Mike, I saw him as a winner, I saw him as a man who looks at the challenges of Wrestling as something he was driven to achieve, driven to gain victories in, driven so much that he’d be willing to KILL to stay in the light. I thought Mike Best was a warrior.

Turning, the Minister’s eyes dropped to the woman in the hood, pausing for a moment having completely forgotten she was there.

The Minister: Take this for example. Beneath this hood is someone who should be.. Very, very important. The person beneath this hood should be a knockout punch for me, the kind of leverage that would normally give a guy like me an edge. I spent the last few months operating under the idea that Mike was invulnerable in the ring because he was weak outside of it.. And I was right.. Sort of.

Ripping the hood off the woman’s head he revealed a generic looking woman with blond hair who looked to be in her early to mid thirties. He drags her up to her feet, pulling her toward the center of the ring here he continues to look bitterly disappointed.

The Minister: I WAS going to slowly reveal that I had gone back and found Mike Best’s wife.. Yes, Tara Cherry, Mike Best’s wife, his first wife, his only wife, the one I am not even sure HE remembers exists. She’s an ass doctor for Texas and yes, her real name is Tara Cherry but do you know who doesn’t give a fuck? Do you know who doesn’t give a fuck, Doctor Cherry?

The woman, gagged still, attempts to a muffled cry only to get shoved away by the Minister causing her to collapse hard to the ring mat. His followers pull her the rest of the way out while the Minister’s hands move to his hips.

The Minister: Mike. Best. Mike Best. Mike Best doesn’t give a shit about anyone but Mike Best, not even Max, not even Cecilworth. And don’t get caught up in him trying to explain to you the finer points of his friendship with Cecilworth, if their roles had been reversed at War Games Cecilworth would have still lost the Championship if you understand my meaning. No.. no I overestimated Mike.. he’s really not that complicated.

His sour expression tightens as he turns his burning eye toward the camera.

The Minister: Mike’s life is a mess. Like, a real mess, a nightmare. I can’t believe none of you have ever bothered to look into it, examine it and to ask yourselves, as I have asked myself, why is Mike so good in the ring? You’d probably think it’s cause of his impressive talent, wrestling skills and the fact he has two pairs of functional knees. That’s a big part of it, for sure, absolutely.. But he isn’t in the ring proving he’s the Best.. he’s escaping the truth..

Shaking his head in mild disgust the Minister lets his gold covered fingers curl around the lapel of his coat, his metal teeth peeking from between cracked lips.

The Minister: He’s escaping that shit hole life he’s created for himself! He might be great in the ring but do you people know he burnt down his own fucking home? His finacess are in shambles, the only reason you see so much Mike Best merchandise is because High Octane Wrestling foots the bill! He uses OCW’s Private Jet for air travel, most of his paycheck goes back into cocaine at this point, I don’t have to beat Mike Best, Life.. Life has defeated Mike Best.

A wet chuckle escapes the Minister’s lips as he shakes his head with contempt. His face begins to flush red as his voice rises, his frustration obviously beginning to boil over.

The Minister: At No Remorse, Mike, I’m done investing in your failed wreckage of a life. You were supposed to be the solution and if you can’t be the weapon I need then I’ll just take that World Title and see if someone else in this fucking Shitty Death Match Company can pull the FUCKING TRIGGER! Maybe known Murder Boi Cecilworth Farthington, the real friend, will, huh Mike? Maybe I just need to invest in him instead.

Drool and spittle hang from the Minister’s bottom lip as his breathing deepens, a harshness taken to it. He slowly seems to gain control of it though, smoothing his suit out and straightening his tie before a smile slips comfortably to his face.

The Minister: Have a Blessed Day.

The action cuts to ringside as it is now time for our main event.

Joe Hoffman: Well folks, it is now time for our main event!  Four men battling it out to see who will take on Cecilworth Farthington for the LSD Title next week on Refueled .

Benny Newell: So the winner is a loser no matter what?  Got it Joe.  Cause no one is touching the Limb Severing Division champ.

Joe Hoffman: For the last time, that was a joke rumor, just like it turning into Lee’s Stabby-stabby Division.

Benny Newell: Fine, but there are a few people here I’d love to see without some limbs.

Joe Hoffman: Tonight it will be a ladder match though, as two of the eGG Bandits, COOL Jiles and Doozer face off against each other and the recently added High Flyer and the temporarily released Hughie Freeman.

The arena lights quickly dim.

Banditstruck, AC/DC Remix, takes over the AllState arena.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah…

The Octabandits in tonight’s sold out attendance excitedly jump to their feet.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah…

A spotlight the shape of an egg illuminates the top of the entrance ramp.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah…

From behind the curtain, out step BOTH The Maestro and Doozer.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah…

Joe Hoffman: WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! They are coming to the ring together, Benny. What do you make of it?

Ah ah ah ah ah ah– Band-its!

Benny Newell: I’m assuming somebody has to tell Doozer where he is before he forgets. I guess Jiles the Jerkoff is the guy to do it.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah– Band-its!

Joe Hoffman: So far it’s been an up and down night for the egg throwing lot. The Bruv’s took out Bobby Dean, on accident, and word is he’s been taken to Northwestern Memorial to be further checked out due to his history with head injuries. Zeb on the other hand picked up a win against Stevens.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah– Band-Its!

Benny Newell: Don’t forget DMB released a new hit single tonight, Bandit Killer.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah– BAND-ITS!

The two Bandits soak up the rabid adoration, and then make their way to the ring. Doozer takes the steps, Jiles slides under the bottom rope, and then they meet in the center of the ring.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah– BAND-ITS!

The Dooze screams something visceral, and The Maestro cocks his head upward and aggressively releases a stream of yellow mist into the air. Pyro’s illuminate the AllState Arena, sending the packed crowd into an absolute frenzy!

Joe Hoffman: That’s one way to make an entrance.

Benny Newell: Fuck them. I can’t wait to see what they look like with eggs on their face.

ALL ABOARD!!!   HA HA HA HA HA   AYE AYE AYE AYE AYE AYE

A light fog rises up from the entrance way as the opening guitar rift kicks in. Parting the smoke is High Flyer, who stands confidently at the top of the entrance ramp. He tosses one hand up in a devil horn taunt, and smiles slyly to the camera. He stomps his way to the ring, paying very little attention to the crowd.

Bryan McVay: And their opponent, from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 224 pounds… HIGH FLYER!!!!!

Benny Newell: The man that has to have the advantage here tonight… the man who will rip limbs off just for fun… the sadistic crazy fuck Jack Harmen.

Joe Hoffman: What is your fetish with limb serving tonight?

Benny Newell: I just miss the days of Lady Murderfucks….

Reaches ringside, he slips in under the bottom rope, then sprawls on his back. He begins to make snow angels while residing on his back, looking up at the lights before recovering to his feet. He leaps onto the second ropes and looks out to the crowd.

WELCOME TO THE ROCK!

“Rock House Jail” from The Rock [Original Motion Picture Score] starts to play over the P.A. system as we see a group of ten H.A.T.E. guards marching Hughie Freeman out in full shackles, dressed in a blue chambray shirt, trousers and some shoes that all look like they were picked off the last Alcatraz inmate in 1963.

Bryan McVay: And their opponent, from his dirty ass cell on Alcatraz Island, weighing in at 215 pounds… Prisoner 102620!!!

Joe Hoffman: Obviously that is Hughie Freeman, the fourth and final entrant into this match, who is on a special work release for today only to fight in this match.  We have been told that immediately after this match he and the H.A.T.E. guards will travel directly back to Alcatraz from O’Hare.

Benny Newell: Keep an extra eye on my Jack… you know they only got that toilet bowl piss alcohol in the prisons.

Joe Hoffman: I hardly… nevermind…

H.A.T.E. guards nearly drag Hugie down the ramp, armed with tasers as you can almost guarantee he’s been shocked by them multiple times on his chartered flight from San Francisco today.  As they reach the ring, the guards are about to start unlocking the shackles… but they stop at the sound of something very familiar to The Allstate Arena

OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH, DRINK, DRANK, DRUNK!!!!

The Allstate Arena roars with cheers as all four competitors, especially Hughie turn towards the entrance way as red lights bask the stage while Hellyeah blasts.  Then for the first time in a month, since the Refueled post War Games we see him make his way out onto the stage.

Bryan McVay: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome 38% Owner of HOW… The Hardcore Artist…. SCOTTYWOOD!!!!!

Banging his head back and forth as his dreads violently trash around, Woodson raises his barbed wire hockey stick and a can of beer which he proceeds to down on the stage before tossing into the crowd.

Joe Hoffman: It has been a month since we last saw him… but it has been nearly a year since we have heard that name… Scottywood is back!!!

Benny Newell: I thought that fucker was dead… I mean I hoped he was dead at least….

Scottywood makes his way down straight to Hughie who is still shackled by the H.A.T.E. guards as he lunges at Scottywood but the guards grab the chains and snap him back.  As Hughie’s body contorts to the whims of the chains, Scottywood swings the hockey stick and stops inches from Hughie’s head.  He laughs as he makes his way around the ring and…

Joe Hoffman: Gonna take a wild guess here and say that Scottywood is going to join us at ringside for commentary tonight.

Benny Newell: No shits… shoulda bet on that shit when the outline came out during the production meeting.

Joe Hoffman: Why would you bet that from there?

Benny Newell: Four guesses Joe… and if you fail the walls of the house will come tumbling down.

Joe Hoffman: Again… I’m not gonna ask, cause I feel Lee may stab us in our eyes…

The H.A.T.E. Guards remove the shackles from Hughie as the majority of them make their way towards the announce table where Scottywood takes a seat next to Benny Newell as the remaining guards warn Hughie not to fuck with Scottywood… or else they’ll taser him until he can supply the whole arena with enough electricity for the rest of the night.

Joe Hoffman: Mister Woodson… it’s an honor for you to join us tonight.

Benny Newell: Kiss ass…

Scottywood: Thanks Joe… but ya don’t need to call me by my corporate blow hole name anymore.  Scottywood has risen from the cross he was crucified on nearly a year ago… and he is stronger than ever.  Because if my world is going to burn down to the ground… I’m going down as fucking me.  No more fucking filters or PC corporate bullshit.  Plus I wanna watch Hughie blow his fucking chance at the LSD Title.

All four men are now in the ring as Hortega calls for the bell and rolls out of the ring as his job is pretty much over as anything will go in this ladder match until someone retrieves the contract hanging above the ring.

Joe Hoffman: And we are underway!  Four men, a ladder and a contract for a LSD Title shot!

The Bandits stick together as they face off across from Hughie and High Flyer who almost by default must work together for now as Jiles takes on Flyer and Doozer exchanges blows with Hughie.  It’s Doozer though gaining the first advantage as he pulls the jail shirt over Hughie’s head and lands a couple of uppercut punches before throwing Hughie over the top rope and to the floor.

Joe Hoffman: I know the NHL returns to play tonight, guess Doozer was watching some games earlier today.

Doozer goes to help out Jiles as he clubs Flyer across the back with a forearm as Jiles boots Flyer below the belt and tosses him out of the ring.  The Bandits look up at the contract, but there is no ladder in the ring.  That quickly changes as Hughie Freeman slides in behind The Bandits with the matches first ladder.  As the two turn around, Hughie cleans them both out with a nasty cross-check from the ladder.

Joe Hoffman: Freeman the first to use the ladder here as he has a small window now, can he set it up?

Scottywood: The Bandits might need to check the chiclets after that shot there.

Benny Newell: Chiclets?  Watch too much hockey today?

Scottywood: You really wanna cross the fucker whose team lost today?

But instead of setting it up, Hughie drives the top of the ladder into the guts of Jiles and Doozer as both men roll out of the ring.  He then sets it up as he starts the long climb to the top.  Halfway up though we see another ladder launched into the ring, drilling Freeman in the back as he nearly falls off.  High Flyer slides into the ring with a steel chair in hand and cracks it off the back of Freeman twice as he can’t hold on and falls off the ladder and lands hard on the second one.

Scottywood: The weapons master, High Flyer is in his perfect element here in this anything fucking goes match.

Flyer cracks the chair across the chest of Freeman a few more times before discarding the chair and starting to climb the ladder himself now.  But as he does both Bandits make their way back into the ring and before they get a chance, Flyer launches a cross body off the ladder and takes out Jiles.  He pops up and grabs his chair and he drives it into the gut of Doozer and nails a DDT onto it.  Jiles pops up but gets a boot into the gut from Flyer and a snap suplex onto the downed ladder as Jiles winces in pain.

Joe Hoffman: High Flyer cleaning house here as both Bandits are writhing in pain.

Benny Newell: Scrambled in pain Joe… come on!  Easy fucking puns left on the frying pan there.

Scottywood: Why do we pay you money again?

Joe Hoffman: Flyer starting his ascension of the ladder…

Scottywood: You cracking fucking jokes now Hoffhole?

Joe Hoffman: Oh… sorry, that was inadvertent…

Flyer is halfway up the ladder as we see Hughie Freeman pull himself back up his feet and he goes to tip the ladder over but Flyer leap frogs over the top of the ladder and catches Freeman with a huge bulldog, drilling his head into the mat.

Joe Hoffman: Flyer with the huge sacrifice to wipe out Hughie!

Benny Newell: Sacrifice?  He was about to be murdered off that ladder!

Flyer stumbles up to his feet as Jiles spears him back down and starts laying the fists to the head of Flyer. Doozer rolls back in as Jiles pulls Flyer up and throws him to Doozer who lifts him up into a fireman’s carry and drives him down into the ladder with a front body slam.

Joe Hoffman: EggU by Doozer on the ladder!!!!

Scottywood: Fuck You, Joe!  Fucking Egg censor bullshit!

Outside the ring Hughie gets back to his feet as he lunges at the nearest H.A.T.E. guard and kicks them in the side of the head and grab their taser.  Hughie quickly rolls into the ring as Jiles and Doozer start to climb the ladder.

Benny Newell: Who needs their eggs cooked?

Hughie takes the taser and jam it in the ass of Doozer as he activates it as Doozer Convolts and launches off the ladder and down to the mat.  Jiles sees this and tries to leap off at Hughie, but he thrust the taser out and shocks Jiles right in the tattoo across his stomach as Jiles slams down to the mat and spazzes around.

Scottywood: Anyone up for fried eggs?

Joe Hoffman: You’re ok with your guard being attacked?

Scottywood: If he used shit to attack The Bandits?  Yes!  Plus Hughie ain’t gonna win shit… don’t fool yourself.

The H.A.T.E. guards retrieve the taser as Hughie tosses it down and starts to climb the ladder as High Flyer starts to get to his feet with a steel chair in hand.  He starts climbing the ladder as Hughies fingers touch the contract right before Flyer jams the chair into his chest. He tosses it to the ground as Flyer slams Hughie’s face off the top of the ladder and then grabs Hughie’s head and hits a neckbreaker off the top of the ladder right onto the ladder on the ground below.

Scottywood: Might be bringing a dead man back to Alcatraz… oh shucks….

Joe Hoffman: The Bandits are back up now and it looks like two on one against Flyer….

Hughie rolls out of the ring in front of Scottywood who gets up and grabs Benny’s bottle of Jack and starts pouring it across the face of Hugie as Benny starts to scream before Scottywood elbows him in the face and levels him back into his announce chair.  Grabbing his barbed wire hockey stick, Scottywood then drills it across the back of Hughie.

Benny Newell: WHAT THE FUCK!?! That’s my Jack!

We see Jiles, Doozer and Flyer all start to get up to their feet as they face off as the two on one attack is easily won by the Bandits as they hammer on Flyer who is thrown into the corner as Doozer starts hammering away at Flyer while Jiles picks up the steel chair and starts nailing Flyer in the mid section with it.  Flyer drops down to the mat, clutching his ribs as Scottywood jumps onto the apron.

Joe Hoffman: From commentating to involving himself in the match, Scottywood has his sights set on The Bandits now.

Benny Newell: He better have his sights on buying me a new bottle of Jack!

The Bandits turn their attention to Scottywood for a moment, but we see from the crowd again appear RICK.  This time the Bandits are fully aware of what’s going on as RICK  hops the barricade with a steel pipe in his hand.

Joe Hoffman: Woodson better watch…

RICK drills Woodson in the back of his knee as Scottywood crumples into RICK’s arms who easily turns it into a powerbomb through the announce table as Joe and Benny Scatter just in time.

Benny Newell: Die fucker!

Joe Hoffman: Again Scottywood is put through the announce table by RICK!

With the threat of Scottywood cleared, Jiles and Doozer start to climb the ladder together on opposite sides as they think for a moment they each can claim the contract together.  Meanwhile Flyer and Hughie are  slowly rolling into the ring and each grab the other ladder at the same time.  They look at each other and look at The Bandits scaling the ladder and agree to work together as they set the ladder up next to The Bandits.

Joe Hoffman: The only way to beat these two might be to work together… Hughie and Flyer might understand that now.

Benny Newell: Understand I need a new bottle of Jack!  Where the fuck is that shit?!?

All four men are now climbing the ladders as The Bandits who have the high ground start throwing boots at Hughie and Flyer.  The ladder starts to sway but Flyer and Hughie grab the legs of The Bandits who start to panic as they are starting to get pushed over.

Joe Hoffman: RICK heading into the ring!

We see RICK catch the ladder of Jiles and Doozer as he stands it back up.  AS he does, Jiles and Doozer use the momentum to kick the ladder with Hughie and Flyer as they have no one to hold them up and they go crashing over the top rope and landing hard on the outside.

Joe Hoffman: Just Jiles and Doozer left atop the ladder!

The two Bandits understand what is happening as they both take another step up the ladder before they start trading blows.  It’s shot for shot as they both exchange about five punches each at the top of the ladder.  It is Jiles who gain the advantage thought with a thumb to his stablemate’s eye that allows him to spray Doozer in the face with a yellow mist….

Benny Newell: He Yolked Doozer!!! Hahahaha!

Joe Hoffman: The yellow mist as Doozer is stunned and barely hanging on!

Jiles drives a nasty elbow to the head of Doozer who again can barely hang on to the ladder as Jiles drives a thumb into the eye of Doozer who crashes down to the mat below.  Looking around for a quick second, Jiles takes another step up the ladder.  He reaches up and grabs the contract off the hook as the bell ring below him.

Bryan McVay: The winner and the number one contender for the LSD Title…. COOOOOOOL Jiles!!!!!

Joe Hffoman: The teamwork played off perfectly… until they had to face off against each other and Jiles comes out as the winner and will face Farthington next week on Refueled!

Benny Newell: Blah Blah, new statistic title defense.

RICK slides into the ring and picks up Doozer as the three men celebrate in the ring together.  We can see that Doozer is disappointed… but he is at least happy that a bandit did secure the win tonight and will have a cshot a Farthington next week.

Benny Newell: What the fuck is he…

From the carnage of the destroyed announce table , Scottywood starts to pull himself up as he is laughing in the background.  Crawling over to McVay, he yells for a microphone as The bandits starts to exit the ring.

Scottywood: RIIIICCCCKKK!!!!! You think you’re fucking done tonight?  You think attacking me AGAIN was going to go off without any repercussions?

Joe Hoffman: Oh no,…. What does he have in mind?

Scottywood: Since you wanna get involved!  Since you think you know better.  Then at NO REMORSE… you will be going one on one with one man.  It will be RICK going against… Hughie Freeman!!!!   Live from Alcatraz at No Remorse!!!

Joe Hoffman: Huge grudge matches et between two former HATE members! Folks we have our final commercial break and then its roster review time!!

Back from commercial and the HOV comes to life and we see Lee Best sitting behind a large desk. Standing to the right of him is the large individual that we have seen with Lee since the attack at War Games by Chris Kostoff.

Lee is staring intently into the camera and we can see that his left eye, his good one, his different shades of color as its obviously still healing from the fists of Kostoff.

Without any further hesitation the GOD of HOW begins to speak:

Lee Best: I am not going to waste everyones time with a bunch of bullshit. Tonight folks want to hear what I have to say about the roster and quite honestly I need to get some shit out before No Remorse.

Lee looks down at a piece of paper in front of him and nods at the large man next to him. We see the man walk out of the view of the camera and we can hear a door open in the background. A few seconds later the man returns and as the camera positions itself to the side of Lee’s desk, we see that none other than Steve Harrison is sitting across from Lee.

Lee Best: Mr. Steve Harrison. The milk man. You from Pittsburgh?

Steve Harrison: Actually Fairfax Virgi—

Lee Best: Did you wrestle in the Olympics?

Steve Harrison: Huh? No. I do consider myself a technical wrestler however.

Lee looks down at his paper smirking as Harrison is clearly confused.

Lee Best: Well what I do KNOW is that you are the #12 ranked wrestler in the company at the moment and everyone is expecting this to be a fucking negative Nancy fest….so lets start out with a positive bit of news.

Harrison, clearly uncomfortable, shifts in his seat as Lee continues.

Lee Best: Next week on Refueled it will be Steve Harrison taking on MY SON for the High Octane World Championship!!!!!!

Instead of happiness you can see the shock in Harrison’s eyes.

Lee Best: What? You don’t want a title shot next week?? You know the last time I handed one of these motherfuckers out on the air?????

Harrison can barely speak…

Lee Best: Boy……you better speak up and speak up now. You good to go?

Steve Harrison: I……I…..can’t. I have to…

The GOD of HOW reaches across the table and smacks Harrison across the face.

Lee Best: YOU TURNED DOWN A MOTHERFUCKING TITLE SHOT……LIVE ON TV FROM ME???!!!!!!

Lee reaches back to smack Harrison again but this time the man grabs a hold of the hand of Lee Best, stopping the blow, but it doesn’t last.

WHACK

The large man to the right of Lee nails Harrison with a right cross. Harrison falls to the ground, out like a like.

Lee walks out from behind his desk and crouches next to Harrison and whispers in his ear…

Lee Best: Next time take the match.

The GOD of HOW then motions for his large bodyguard to get Harrison out of his office.

As that happens, Lee sits back down behind his desk and composes himself. He then looks down at his paper and yells out at his bodyguard.

Lee Best: Stevens…..bring me fucking Stevens.

A few moments later, and after pouring himself three fingers of whiskey, we see Scott Stevens walk into the office and sits down across from Lee.

Lee stares into the eyes of Stevens as he sips on his drink…neither man saying anything.

Slowly Lee points at one of the eyes of Stevens…

Lee Best: You know…..I kinda remember you losing one of those motherfuckers…..ya…..I am pretty sure that

Scott Stevens: And Kostoff lost his head….what the fuck do you want Lee?

The GOD of HOW just smiles as he got the exact reaction he was looking for.

Lee Best: You know I was going to put you into the Hall of Fame this year? Legit. You and Mario were going in as the first two. Your contributions behind the scenes are second to none. You do more than most even know to keep this ship floating………

Stevens is stunned by the words that just escaped the mouth of Lee.

Lee Best: ……but then those pretty little lips of yours had to go off and say some full out stupid ass shit. Your punishment hasn’t fit the crime but I thought right here….right now….you finding out that you COULD have been a Hall of Famer……..but aren’t because of your own idiotic decisions…..well that’s punishment enough.

Stevens is still stunned as Lee motions for his bodyguard to get Stevens out of the office.

Lee Best: Bring in High Flyer……

Lee is still smiling about the news he just dropped on Stevens as we see High Flyer make his way into the office and takes a seat.

High Flyer: Did you just put Stevens in the Hall of Fame?? That’s all he was muttering on the way out?

Lee almost spits his drink out.

Lee Best: Full disclosure…that motherfucker will never know if I was being serious or not. He fucked up. He is paying for it…..anyway on to you asshat.

High Flyer rolls his eyes as he gets comfortable in his seat.

Lee Best: One of our many non HOW Hall of Famers that time forgot….you know what…that’s not fair…you been doing well for yourself lately. You know Jack, I considered you one of the top signings I have ever had here in HOW. Note the past tense. I mean on name value alone you should be a .500 wrestler. But you know whats happened……

High Flyer, in no mood to play or sit thru games, rolls his eyes at Lee as he sighs.

High Flyer: You will NOT be saying anything that I haven’t heard in the last 52 weeks.

Lee Best: Ah, but I think this time you might listen. You see the fans have forgotten that you were GREAT. One of the ALL TIMERS. Your peers sure as fuck have……and don’t even get me going on the fans…..THEY HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE how great you once were.

Lee pauses as he takes a sip….

Lee Best: But more importantly….you have forgotten how great you were. You are 4 and fucking 9 in 2020. Granted this year could eat a dick……but your record should not be on par with that dick sucker Chris Kostoff. Why do you think you keep losing here in HOW….and again I know recent form as seen a dramatic uptick…….but are you really committed to your legacy? OR are you just going to keep pointing to the past as you steal my fucking money every week?

High Flyer sits up in his seat and stares into Lee’s good eye.

High Flyer: Try me.

Smiling, Lee leans back in his chair and takes another drink.

Lee Best: Ok here is the deal I got for you. Tonight you got outnumbered and lost a shot at the LSD Championship next week…..I will give you a shot at revenge. Next week I will book you versus one of the bandits and if you win…..I got a special surprise for you. Deal?

High Flyer nods at Lee and exits the office as the GOD of HOW looks on.

Lee Best: Bring me Doozer. Only fucking Doozer.

The Creator of all things High Octane, pours himself another drink as he waits on Doozer to arrive.

A few moments later, a very beaten up Doozer plops down in the seat across from Lee.

Lee Best: ….Lee Sucks Dick……..And you can choke on it, boss man.

Lee puts the paper down from which he just read those words and looks over at Doozer who is clearly not even here to listen after the match he just went thru.

Lee Best: Ya I didn’t think you would have much to say on that…….neither do I.

Lee nods at his bodyguard who takes a step towards Doozer, who quickly puts his fists up ready to fight, but instead the man just motions for Doozer to leave.

The Bandit looks at Lee and then at the man and is completely confused by why they are letting him walk.

Lee looks down at his paper for the next time as Doozer slowly walks out of the office.

“Eric Dane”

Again, Lee is smiling from ear to ear after the last interaction, as he waits for Dane to appear.

Lee Best: It is the little things…..such a cliché but so fucking true….

As Dane walks into the office Lee slowly puts his glass down as the man that attacked LT earlier in the night sits across from him.

Lee Best: So Mr. On His Best Behavior finally had a moment tonight huh? You and LT want to take it to the streets of Chicago…MY CITY…..to settle the score huh? Don’t answer that. Sit there and just fucking listen for once in your pathetic fucking life.

Dane is already squirming in the seat trying as hard as he can to not jump up and attack Lee.

Lee goes to take a drink but then pauses. He sets the glass down slowly and then smiles.

Before Dane can say anything. Lee puts his hand up and slowly reaches into his top drawer of his desk. He pulls out an object and tosses it to Dane.

Eric Dane: What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?

Lee motions down to his drink.

Lee Best: You want that match fucking official or not? Do it asshole.

Dane is clearly beyond pissed off as he pounds his fist on the table forcing the plastic off the straw Lee handed him and puts it into the drink of Lee.

Lee Best: Thank you. You versus LT is official and you can now leave….and hey…probation ends at No Remorse….but until then….

Dane, satisfied but pissed, stands up and walks away muttering a bunch of shit under his breath as we can hear Lee singing Free Fallin by Tom Petty.

“Bring me the fucking ICON Champion….you know what….hold off. Bring me Darin first”

Lee sips on his whiskey thru his Eric Dane approved straw and smiles as Darin takes a seat across from Lee.

Darin Matthews: A straw? When did you become a

Lee stops sipping his whiskey thru his straw and stares a hole thru Matthews who quickly shuts up. Lee then slowly pulls the straw out of his glass and drops it into the garbage can next to him before addressing Darin.

Lee Best: Ok Zion….sorry Matthews….sorry fuckstick……there is only one reason you are here tonight and quite honestly it’s because I got a little something something for ya….

Darin looks at Lee, not trusting that this is a good thing.

The GOD of HOW reaches into his bottom drawer once again and pulls out a manila folder. He places it on the desk and slides it over to Darin.

Lee Best: Do not say a fucking word……just open it up and sign it.

Darin slowly looks on the desk for a pen but he cannot find one. Suddenly a click is heard….a very famous click…..and Darin slowly looks up at Lee Best who is holding his infamous Bottomline pen in his hand.

Lee slowly hands it over to Darin and the long time HOW wrestler slowly takes it into his hand and stares at it in awe as he slowly opens up the folder and he begins to smile and quickly signs on the dotted line.

Darin Matthews: I cannot believe this thing works??!!

Lee Best: How often you see me actually write with the fucking thing? Give it back before I change my mind….did you even read the damn contract?

Darin nods his head up and down in excitement.

Lee Best: You are welcome. This is a token of my appreciation for you sticking around this HELL hole for all these years and taking everyones abuse. No one appreciates what you do and the fat that you are here every FUCKING ANNOYING week of your life….but you are. So yes….you vs. my Son next week for the World Championship. Go have a fucking NIGHT sir……

Darin stands up and as he does he is quickly dropped as the large bodyguard nails him with a left handed clothesline. The man then quickly picks Darin up and proceeds to spike chokeslam him to the office floor.

Now standing, Lee looks down at the carnage and smiles, and oh ya….that pen you were just holding….you lose to Mike….well you are going to get very close to it…..VERY CLOSE.

With that the large bodyguard drags Darin out of the office.

“ICON CHAMP….NOW”

Lee takes another big gulp of his whiskey and is refilling it as he smiles, thinking about the last review.

Lee Best: Been awhile since I have seen a spiked chokeslam…..Shocker.

Lee winks at the camera as the door opens up and its time for the ICON Champion’s review.

Lee Best: This was the part of the night I’d reserved for our ICON Champion’s roster review – Andy’s’ roster review – but because of Dan fucking Ryan, that isn’t going to be possible. Andy Andy is done. His knee’s fucked, he’s never wrestling again, all because the Group of Death’s resident lunatic couldn’t wait until No Remorse, but don’t worry… there’s a plan B.

One side of Lee’s face curls into something resembling a smile.

Lee Best: A better plan….A BEST plan if you will…

The camera pans across. A previously-unseen man stands holding the HOW ICON Championship, his presence popping those who recognize him for prominent runs elsewhere. He wears a black track jacket embroidered with the same gold Lion Rampant emblem from Andy’s old ring attire with the initials “CM” beneath. A fine layer of stubble lines his jawline and his styled, black hair is combed to the side.

Cayle Murray: Hello Daniel. Remember me?

The younger Murray smiles, shifting the HOW ICON Championship from his grasp and onto his shoulder.

Lee Best: When shit goes south, you rip it up and start again, and when a freak of nature takes out your ICON Champion, you find the one guy on the planet who wants to Bust that Ego as much as the fallen King. This is Cayle fucking Murray. You might remember him as the guy who broke Eric Dane’s neck and put him over the shelf for over a year, or for running Dan Ryan out of goddamn town the last time they shared a locker-room…

Cayle Murray: And if you don’t, you will by the time No Remorse is done.

Cayle looks straight down the lens.

Cayle Murray: Did you think you could get out of this, Dan? Like tearing the big lad’s knee apart and lobbing him off a balcony was gonna clear your calendar, put this…

He slaps the belt.

Cayle Murray: … around your waist, skip the fight – again – and move on? Uh-uh, cunto. You’ve got three weeks left until your neck collapses like a Jenga tower. Use them wisely, because I’m repaying what happened last week tenfold. And as for this?

Murray holds the ICON Title out before him, admiring it before a few seconds, before passing it over to Lee.

Lee Best: The ICON Championship is officially vacant. At No Remorse Cayle Fucking Murray will take on Dan Ryan in a Last Man Standing match for the right to become to the new ICON Champion of High Octane Wrestling. No pinfalls. No submissions. No fucking count outs. Only way to win is to knock the other motherfucker out for a whole 10….wait fuck that…….20 seconds to become the champ. BOOM. Booked.

With that Lee stands up, ICON Championship on his shoulder, and shakes the hand of the younger Murray and the man exits the office.

Lee Best: What a fine young man that is. I usually don’t give out title shots to new signings but I mean cmon….it’s personal…..and after that scathing vignette we saw earlier from Dan Ryan….I have no doubts that these two are going to tear each other apart. Win…Win for me. Fuck look what time it is……..Cannot do the whole roster tonight….more to come next week…….Let’s do one more ….send in

CRACK

The door flies open and the big bodyguard hits the floor…and hard.

Lee looks up and sees Chris Kostoff standing in the doorway with a metal baseball bat in his hands.

Lee Best: You motherfucker.

Chris Kostoff: I am tired of hearing your fucking man pleaser run….you honestly thought you could come back to the Arena and I wouldn’t fuck you up?

Kostoff enters the office and charges at Lee with the bat.

He swings wildly at Lee who manages to dive out of the way and the metal bat takes out a huge chunk of Lee’s desk.

Lee begins to crawl towards the door, but Kostoff turns in time and brings the bat down hard across the back of Lee’s legs.

“FUUUUUUCCCCKKKK”

Lee screams out in pain as he drags his legs, still fighting to get to the door.

Kostoff smiles as he twirls the bat in his hands as he stalks Lee. He waits for Lee to get right in the door’s frame before bringing the bat down again across the back of his legs.

“MOTHERFUCKER!!!!”

Kostoff raises the bat again……….but this time there is no contact.

Lee’s bodyguard, bleeding profusely from his temple, rips the bat out from the hands of Kostoff from behind.

Kostoff turns and nails the main with a right hand to the bloody temple and the two men begin brawling as we see Lee slowly dragging himself out of the office.

Suddenly a bunch of EPU guards begin storming down the hallway and a couple of them pick up the GOD of HOW and help him away as we see a final shot of Kostoff and the bodyguard destroying each other as the EPU security force storm the office.

We see a final image of Lee looking back at the carnage with nothing but fear in his eye.

World Championship Match
The Minister vs. Michael Lee Best©

ICON Championship Match
Last Man Standing Match (20 Second Rule)
Dan Ryan vs. Cayle Murray

Tag Team Championship Match
The eGG Bandits vs. Hollywood Bruvs©

HOFC Match
Chris Kostoff vs. Lee Best

Chicago Street Fight
Lindzeeee Troy vs. Eric Dane

Singles Match @Alcatraz Prison
Hughie Freeman vs. RICK