- Never Been Better
- Supportive Streamer
- #26 Eric Dane vs. #21 Erin Gordon
- The Suplex Saint
- No Math Degree Needed
- #15 Gilda Starr vs. #20 Simon Loveless
- Very Karaoke
- #8 Hughie Freeman vs. #7 Steve Harrison
- Means to an end
- Family is a curse
- Fuckin’ embarassing
- #6 Dan Ryan vs. #5 Cancer Jiles
- Bonus Segment
The High Octane Television logo gives way as we cut live inside rebuilt Best Arena and cut immediately to the Hall of Fame announce team of Joe Hoffman and Big Buff Benny Newell.
Joe Hoffman: Welcome everyone to Refueled! I am Joe Hoffman and as I have said a thousand times…..the man next to me is none other than Big Buff Benny Newell…and what man am I excited for tonights show Benny.
Benny Newell: Tonight is all about the main event and whether anyone on the undercard will step the fuck up before they step the fuck out.
Joe Hoffman: Well, in the ring right now for what’s supposed to be our opening match of the night is Ryan McKinney and Jason Storm.
McKinney and Storm are in the ring all by themselves- which seems a little…odd.
Benny Newell: Oh. This is not good Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: What do you mean?
Benny Newell: First, both McKinney and Storm didn’t get an entrance. You know what that means.
Joe Hoffman: That neither men got an entrance?
Quick cut to Bryan McVay, HOW’s ring announcer. He’s not making any move towards the ring.
Benny Newell: And Bryan McVay isn’t in the ring. You know what that means.
Joe Hoffman: That Bryan’s not in the ring?
Benny whaps Joe in the back of the head.
Joe Hoffman: OW! BENNY!
Benny Newell: No Hoffhole. It’s means they’re not getting an introduction either. That’s not good.
McKinney and Storm both exchange glances at each other- both wonder what’s going on.
Benny Newell: Oh no.
Joe Hoffman: What Benny?
Benny Newell: There’s no referee in the ring. No entrance. No introduction. And no referee! This is bad. Really, really bad.
Joe Hoffman: Well. I admit, this does look very awkward right now. I wonder what’s going on-
Over the loudspeaker, a buzzing synth sound blares.
Joe Hoffman: …now?
A man dressed in an expensive suit and bow-tie comes down to ringside, swipes the microphone from McVay, and climbs into the ring. McVay tries to follow him into the ring but the man gestures for HOW’s ring announcer to take a temporary powder because he’s the one who’s been given the honor and privilege of introducing a living deity.
Benny Newell: WAIT! Is HE here?
Joe Hoffman: Who?
Benny Newell: HIM!
The announcer guy raises the microphone to his mouth.
Announcer Guy (in a voice not unlike Michael Buffer): Ladies and gentlemen. I present to you the almost universally-worshipped king of the sun gods of all creation. He commands the chariot that rode across the sky during the day. He is the great, fiery globe in the sky, a welcome, nurturing presence to honor the season. He is the inspiration for those who would throw virgins into the gaping maw of a volcano – perhaps an Icelandic volcano – even though such shenanigans haven’t been acceptable since the 1950s. And just for your reference, he is, for 33 years in a row, proven to be one of UC San Diego‘s most enduring traditions in the Sun God festival- an all-day music festival celebrated by more than 20,000 students, alumni and friends. But that’s not important.
He pauses and looks out at the crowd as the lights turn off. A small spotlight illuminates the ramp where the BeachBronze Suntan Bikini Girls are standing.
Benny Newell: YES! YES! YESSSSSSSS! DRINK!
The bikini girls pose on the ramp. Then two large, hulking men carry out a golden sedan chair holding a six foot eight inch, two hundred and eighty pound man dressed in long flowing robes inside.
Joe Hoffman: Oh. That him.
Announcer Guy: Either way, you should thank your lucky stars and kiss his royal ass for gracing you with his presence here tonight. Ladies and gentlemen of the Best Arena, please welcome…the reason the Earth doesn‘t float away in the vastness of space…the reason it’s eighty degrees outside and not minus four hundred and fifty-nine point six seven…and the reason Brian Wilson wrote all those great songs. People, bow down before the Sunshine God…
Benny Newell: RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Announcer Guy: …RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
The procession stops at the ring steps. Rah climbs out of his golden sedan chair and prepares to climb into the ring.
Benny Newell: RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Joe Hoffman: Not in my ear Benny! Rah is here. And the big question of the night is- why is Rah here?
McKinney and Storm wonder the same thing. Rah’s in the ring now. He walks right over to McKinney.
Joe Hoffman: Rah’s staring down at McKinney. What’s going to-
Rah drives his boot into McKinney’s gut and leaves him stuck in a bent over position.
Benny Newell: RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
The crowd is on their feet now as Rah turns to Storm.
Joe Hoffman: Now Rah’s staring down Jason Storm.
Benny Newell: Run Jason. Run.
Storm decides to go down fighting. He rushes forward. Rah boots him in the gut leaving him bent over in a ninety degree angle. Rah turns to his faithful worshipers.
Joe Hoffman: Now what is he doing?
Benny Newell: He telling everyone it’s time to sacrifice someone for the Temple of the Sunshine God Hoffdork, what the fuck do you think he’s doing? Drink!
Rah lines up McKinney and Storm and looks towards the heavens of the Best Arena with arms stretched out soaking in the praise and worship of his followers.
Joe Hoffman: Oh.
After receiving the necessary strength from his faithful, Rah lifts both men up and throws them back down onto the canvas.
Joe Hoffman: EYE OF RAHHHHHHHH!
Benny Newell: RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Rah rolls McKinney on top of Storm and puts a boot on McKinney’s chest. Rah looks towards the heavens once more and soaks in the praise and affection of the HOW audience.
The fans make the count since there’s no referee.
His work done, Rah takes his foot off McKinney and leaves the ring. The Sunshine God leads the BronzeBeach Suntan Bikini team towards the back as the raucous crowd cheers.
Benny Newell: RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Joe Hoffman: Rah making a rare appearance here in High Octane Wrestling as he sacrifices both McKinney and Storm to the Temple of the Sunshine God tonight on Refueled XXXVIII.
We get a final shot of RAH standing tall in the middle of the ring as we cut away backstage.
Backstage of the Best Arena. Blaire Moise stands in front of the dressing room of one, Gilda Starr. It says so on the door. She knocks on the door. Obviously, this would be a pointless segment if the door does not open, so it does. Jatt Starr looks at Blaire and smiles at her snd exits the dressing room. He is sporting light brown hair (no longer the obvious toupee, clearly this is a full on hairpiece). He is wearing a black “GILDA STARR” jersey with silver sequined lettering with a hot pink trim.
JATT STARR: Blaire! So nice to see you again. Looking as foxy as usual.
BLAIRE MOISE: Thank—
JATT STARR: Before we begin, allow me to apologize for my previous behavior. Rest assured, I will not make any further advances towards you. I realize that there can only be two outcomes. Either you continue rejecting me or we have something fantastic and you ditch me. Neither scenario is all that appealing for the Sultan of SeaJattle. Therefore, our relationship will strictly be professional.
BLAIRE MOISE: Thank you, I guess?
JATT STARR: What’s up?
BLAIRE MOISE; I was hoping to speak with your daughter. There have been rumors that Gilda Starr was not going to appear for her match tonight. Is there any truth to that?
JATT STARR: Gilda Starr WILL compete against Simon Loveless tonight.
BLAIRE MOISE: Is she here?
JATT STARR: No.
BLAIRE MOISE: If she’s not here, then how—
JATT STARR: What does this say?
The King of Grapple from the Big Apple points to his jersey.
BLAIRE MOISE: “Gilda Starr”
JATT STARR: Tonight, Simon Loveless will be competing against the Earl of GlouStarr, the Champion of Jattanooga, “The HOW Classic”, the Thane of Starrkarth…..ME!
BLAIRE MOISE: I don’t understand.
JATT STARR: Of course. You see, Thursday morning, I submitted my application to officially have my name changed to Simon Gilda-Jatt Starr Sparrow. Therefore, Gilda Starr remains an active member of the roster, with Gilda just being a shortened version Gilda-Jattt akin to Mike and Michael or Pete and Peter or Cancer Giles and Dingleberry Von Ninnyhammer.
BLAIRE MOISE: Since you have returned to the HOW, you have been confined to a wheelchair and now, I notice you are up and about. Are you medically cleared to compete?
JATT STARR: Never better.
The Duke of AmStarrdam claps his hands. Emerging from the dressing room carrying a briefcase is a rather large man with extensive scarring on the right half of his face. He is dressing a suit – the left half of the suit is blue and the right half of the suit is red.
JATT STARR: Blaire, please meet my associate, The Switch.
The man known as The Switch (formerly Hugo Scorpio) opens his mouth, no doubt to provide a courteous greeting but he is interrupted.
JATT STARR: He is MUTE! And therefore, cannot speak.
The Switch is then relegated to politely smile and nod to the HOW interviewer.
BLAIRE MOISE: The Switch?
JATT STARR: Yes! The world knows that the Switch is far superior than the Game Boy. But you were inquiring about my health.m
The Monarch of MadagaStarr snaps his fingers and The Switch opens the briefcase.
JATT STARR: Blaire, there are some wild, unsubstantiated claims that certain Miracle Waters work. But that’s not the case. It’s a scam. They’re playing you for a sap! It’s just tap water that they bottle and then stick a label on it and proclaim to have these otherworldly properties. And if that’s not the absolute truth, then my name isn’t Jatt Starr. Miracle Holy Water! Jesus walked on water, he didn’t bottle it! I wouldn’t let a goldfish live in that crap Steve Harrison is shilling.
The Hero of Jattlanta removes from the briefcase a brown bottle with a yellowish label, as it was doctored to make it look aged.
JATT STARR: Now this! This is the real thing! “Jatt’s Mystical Healing Elixir”! Drink this and all the negative toxins will be purged from the body. It’s made with all natural ingredients….Senna, Peppermint, Prune Juice, and High Fructose Corn Syrup. This is how the Jattlantic City Idol is cleared to compete.
Jatt Starr puts the bottle back into the briefcase.
BLAIRE MOISE: I see. Since you are back, HOW Champion Mike Best issued an open challenge to a Literal Death Match at Rumble at the Rock. Considering the history between you two, have you considered taking him up on his challenge?
JATT STARR: That’s a fair question considering the load of crap he put me through in the past. But, no, I have no intention of challenging him for the HOW World Championship. I don’t need that Michael Best drama in my life right now. The smart play is to let Michael Best and challenger to be named later beat each other to death and then request a shot at the World Title. But, the question becomes, if not me, then who? Who will step up? Max Kael’s Head which has been surgically transplanted onto a donkey? I wouldn’t be surprised if Max DonKael trots in and takes a massive dump in Mike Best’s dressing room while letting out an ear splitting “Hee Haw”. My purpose here is not to get involved with Michael Best. Let him do his thing while I do my thing ne’er to cross paths.
BLAIRE MOISE: What is your purpose then?
JATT STARR: Right now, the purpose of “The HOW Classic” tonight is to honor my daughter, Gilda, with a win. Thank you. The Switch! Come!
The Jattsylvanian Count heads back into the dressing room followed by The Switch as the scene ends as we take our first commercial break.
Back live and we cut again to Blaire Moise who is standing by once again for an interview.
Blaire Moise: Everyone, I am here with one of the newer members to the HOW roster, “The Vintage” Conor Fuse and…
She seems puzzled on how to address this situation but nonetheless powers through.
Blaire Moise: …his Game Boy.
Conor strolls into the picture. He’s wearing neon green Adidas track pants and an “8-BIT BADASS” tshirt. Behind him is the imposing 6’5”, 330+ lbs of pure muscle, complete with an NES-style wrestling mask, The Game Boy. The crowd gives off a light jeer as Conor is becoming more familiar to them each week, along with his annoying child-like antics. “The Vintage” looks at Blaire with a sinister smile before leaning into the mic.
Conor Fuse: Hello, hello.
But that’s all he says so Blaire nods and goes into interview mode.
Blaire Moise: Conor, it’s been a great first month for you. You’ve pulled off three wins and have gained some momentum in HOW. What has your experience been like?
Conor strokes his chin as if Blaire asked a very in-depth question. The pause allows the fans to become restless. Then Conor giggles.
Conor Fuse: What’s my Experience been like? My Experience is maybe Level 35, at worst. Hey, I’m the ultimate gamer! I told you all when I first started here that I’m coming for the Level Eight Boss and it’s only a matter of time before I beat him or her!
Blaire isn’t familiar with video game terminology. She’s confused as she stops to run a hand through her hair.
Blaire Moise: Level Eight… Boss?
Conor pats her lightly on the head.
Conor Fuse: I have victories against Erin Gordon, Jason Storm and Scott Stevens. Those are Level One BOTS, let me tell you. If you want me to go to Level Eight right away, Blaire, all you had to do was ask! …Or give me a warp whistle. Uh, you got a recorder around there and can you play Hot Crossed Buns?
Joe Hoffman: Isn’t it Hot Cross Buns?
Benny Newell: How the hell would I know?
Blaire is once again lost in what Fuse is speaking about. However, she did catch something he said in the earlier part of his rant and intends to revisit it.
Blaire Moise: Right, that all sounds good Conor but you did not score such a clean victory against Erin Gordon. You needed help from… uh, The Game Boy over there to get your first win. Needless to say, that pissed Erin off and she came out for revenge against you, knocking you out in the process!
Fuse smirks, turns back to his “Mini” Boss and smacks him on the chest.
Conor Fuse: I… needed help?
Blaire Moise: Yes. It took The Game Boy to interfere when she was about to-
Conor Fuse: I do not recall that. Hmmmm.
“The Vintage” pats Blaire on the head again.
Conor Fuse: I think your save file over here is malfunctioning. It’s okay, not all of us are able to store numerous blocks of memory.
Moise has given up on trying to understand these odd comments from Conor. She simply continues with her thought.
Blaire Moise: And then during No Remorse, you confronted Erin like nothing even happened. I would know, I was there!
Conor seems indifferent. He’s “hearing” what the interviewer is saying and yet his facial expressions and mannerisms paint a different picture. Fuse reaches into his back pocket and pulls out some Betty Crocker’s Fruit by the Foot (neon green of course). He seems more preoccupied unraveling the citrus blast and putting as much of it into his mouth as possible while Moise tries to cling on to the interview.
Blaire Moise: Conor, do you even remember that happening? Maybe it’s your save file that’s malfunctioning or are you running scared?
Finally able to fit the entire roll into his mouth, Conor chews and chews and chews with a gloriously wide grin on his face. He spins towards Moise and attempts to answer, albeit with half the roll still being devoured.
Conor Fuse: I… I like Erin Gordon. [munching away] Super swell BOT. [still munching] You know what, she’s MORE than a BOT. She’s a legit wrestler in HOW and I’m a big fan! Yep, this just in: I made my decision! I also hear she’s wrestling next and I can’t wait to support her on live stream! GO GORDON GO! GO GORDON GO!
Fuse puts his arms in the air as if celebrating a victory. He spins around and pats The Game Boy on the chest once more. Then he smiles and waves to Moise as he leaves the interview area.
Conor Fuse: Great chat! Let’s do this again sometime!
Moise turns to the camera.
Blaire Moise: Well there you have it. I guess there are no problems between Gordon and Conor… at least on Conor’s behalf!
Conor Fuse shouts off-camera.
Conor Fuse: Hey Blaire, CATCH!
Blaire sticks her hands out and catches a Fruit by the Foot roll at the last second. Surprised she caught it in time, the interviewer shrugs and starts to unroll it as we cut ringside for our opening match.
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…
Benny Newell: A wind machine? This is what we’re doing now?
Joe Hoffman: What’s wrong with the wind machine?
Benny Newell: And you people wonder why I drink! Where’s my whiskey at, anyways?
Joe Hoffman: It’s probably- HEY! IS THAT-
Benny Newell: IT’S ERIC DANE!
The Only Star had made his move early, deciding to forgo the pomp and circumstance of entrances and introductions in order to take the early advantage. Oh, and also he’s got the steel pipe that he used to take out Lindsay Troy and this time he’s put it to use taking out the bad knee of Erin Gordon with one perfectly placed whack to the side of the leg.
Joe Hoffman: That DASTARDLY son-of-a-bitch!
Benny Newell: What? He’s doing what he said he was gonna do?
Joe Hoffman: I don’t remember hearing anything about criminal assault!
Benny Newell: He said he was coming to Refueled this week to “right the ship,” so to speak. And what better way to do that than send somebody to the hospital?
Joe Hoffman: Are you being serious?
Benny Newell: Have you not been paying attention? This is HOW, dork, where you’re a Hall of Famer! You know damn good and well that cashing your paychecks makes you complicit in at least a dozen crimes in any given month! ALSO WE ARE DOING A FOR REAL DEATHMATCH SOON! Give yer balls a tug and figure it out!
Dane grabs Gordon by the hair and drags her down the entrance ramp toward the ring. She stumbles, her leg very obviously unable to hold her weight. Dane stops and literally pulls her up by the face. He grimaces in her face before whipping the Oncoming Storm hard into the ring apron. The pain on Erin’s face is as clear as the snarling smirk on Dane’s.
Joe Hoffman: Dane is on a mission here, and it’s not going to end well.
Benny Newell: Speak for yourself, pussy, I think it’s great!
The Only Star follows up by grabbing Gordon and sending her flailing back-first at the ringsteps where she lands awkwardly and screams out in pain. He is relentless now as he takes the mount position on top of Erin and the ringsteps and he starts laying closed fists into her face. The HOW fans aren’t exactly sure how to take him, on the one hand he’s Eric fuckin’ Dane and they hate him on principle, but on the other hand…
…he is wrecking shit in the HOW style.
Matt Boettcher is Johnny on the Spot, outside and in Dane’s grill, demanding that he bring the action inside the ring. Boettcher starts counting at Dane but The Only Star laughs in his face, flips him off, and slams another fist into Eric Gordon’s face.
Benny Newell: Ha! I could get behind this guy…
Joe Hoffman: Are you kidding? He’s blatantly ignoring the referee!
Benny Newell: So?
Joe Hoffman: So he should be disqualified!
Benny Newell: You hear a bell that nobody else in the building did, Hoffhole? I didn’t think so!
Boettcher continues his pleas, Dane ignores him and pulls Gordon up to her feet again. She’s up long enough for the camera to get a shot of the blood trickling down out of her hairline into her eyes before Dane whips her bodily into the ring, underneath the bottom rope, and spryly hops up onto the apron himself. He does a bit of grandstanding and makes a big deal out of wiping his boots off on the apron before turning and stepping through the ropes himself. He doesn’t make it all the way through, though.
Joe Hoffman: WHOA! Erin Gordon just came ALIVE and kicked the middle rope out of desperation!
Benny Newell: That skeezy ho-
Joe Hoffman: BENJAMIN F. NEWELL!
Dane can’t even fall over, the way he’s caught in the ropes. Gordon sees her opportunity and leaps up, grabbing The Antagonist by his head, pulling him about halfway into the ring and snapping him down hard and fast with a rope-assisted DDT.
Benny Newell: GYAT DAYUM! She spiked him!
Boettcher calls for the bell as soon as they’re both inside the ring.
DING! DING! DING!
Joe Hoffman: And remember, Dane’s got a surgically fused neck! And Lindsay Troy dumped him on it hard a few times over the past few weeks! He could be dead!
Indeed, he hasn’t moved a muscle. Gordon shoots the half, hooks the leg, and pulls back with everything she’s worth. Boettcher jumps into position…
Benny Newell: Dane got his foot on the rope!
Joe Hoffman: Love him or hate him, you can’t deny Eric Dane’s ring prowess!
Benny Newell: You wanna finish off on that rimjob, or you wanna call this match?
Gordon pulls Dane to his feet, grabs him by the head and twists for a swinging neck breaker but she never makes it through the swing as her knee had no intention of cooperating and she quickly went down to the mat on one knee. Dane saw it, he felt it, and he made her pay for it.
He takes two steps and then-
Joe Hoffman: STARBREAKER KNEE!
Benny Newell: That’s it! He split her like a cantaloupe! The light’s on but DON’T LOOK LIKE NOBODY HOME!
Dane sneers down at his fallen opponent, disappointment clearly plastered across his face. He pounces onto her, spinning and locking, and before anyone can tell the difference he’s got her locked into the very same body-scissors submission hold that Lindsay Troy submitted him with at No Remorse. Boettcher checks and doesn’t hesitate to call one more time for the bell.
DING! DING! DING!
Joe Hoffman: Well, The Only Star is absolutely not getting paid by the hour tonight!
Benny Newell: He ain’t lettin’ go, either!
He is not. If anything, he rares back and pulls harder, adding a few brisk elbows to the already bleeding head of Erin Gordon! Boettcher is on his case quickly but Dane ignores him. The bell rings again.
DING! DING! DING!
Joe Hoffman: Come on! Have some sportsmanship! Cut the kid a break!
He does not. Boettcher begins counting, the bell continues to ring.
DING! DING! DING!
Boettcher stops the count and tries to bodily remove Dane instead to no avail. He chastises him and threatens to overturn the decision and disqualify The Only Star!
Finally, Eric breaks the hold. He rolls off of her and outside of the ring.
Joe Hoffman: Well that was just a disgusting display of-
Benny Newell: Of what…..High Octane Wrestling? Look I am hard watching that bitch get her ass beat even if it was at the hands of the human straw himself……wasnt as erotic as skinamax but what a way to start the night.
The action cuts away as the show must got on…
Cut to inside Steve Harrisons locker room. He is sitting on a bench leaning against the wall with what can only be one of the last known bottles of Minister Holy Water in his hand. Jack Marley is no where to be seen, as it seems Steve Harrison is going it alone tonight. He leans forward and looks at the camera.
Steve Harrison: It is rare my locker room is this quiet. Most times I have customers coming in and out trying to find a Miracle or Jack trying to explain to me the difference between weed strains. Sometimes you just need a break to discover your next brilliant idea.
Harrison takes a sip of the Holy Water and smirks.
Steve Harrison: And then sometimes you must find out where someone’s loyalty lies. Jack did not rob me of my earnings last week but there is something itching the back of my brain and until I am able to scratch it, my eyes will always be looking at him sideways.
The Man of all the Miracles shrugs his shoulders places the Holy Water to the left of him on the bench.
Steve Harrison: I suppose it is only right I am left alone when I am about to face someone who spends all his time alone with only rats and cockroaches to talk to.
Stevey H the Milk Man laughs to himself.
Steve Harrison: Tonight, I battle Hughie Freeman, the man’s man. Heh, yea, if you know…that man likes to perform sodomy on rats and get hard from a lighter lighting…anything, but especially human flesh. You can call me a coward or soft but those are just silly insults from small narrowed mind men. These hands…
Harrison looks down at his hands that look like he has uses lotion on them several times a day. His nails perfect no biting of them can be found. He looks back up and smiles.
Steve Harrison: Trust me, these beautiful model hands of mine have directed a whole bunch of dirty shit. Unlike Hughie Freeman I do not need to get them physically involved in getting things accomplished. This does not make me soft. This makes me smart. Wrestling is another category though because what I do in that ring is legal, so my hands–well…they can get as red as needed.
Harrison points to his head motioning how smart he is.
Steve Harrison: Being soft is not having the resolve to do what must be done. The Miracle Man has not gotten to where he is by playing nice and shaking hands. Just because I do not walk the streets punching everyone who looks at me wrong doesn’t mean I cannot find any homeless man and pay him five bucks to do it for me. It is about staying out of where you find yourself, Hughie. Trust me, tonight you will see my resolve when I beat on that neck till you no longer can move. This is about keeping you away from a title I undoubtfully deserve and you do not.
Harrison nods to the camera, his smile fading.
Steve Harrison: Hughie, I wish we could have met under different circumstances. Those circumstances would have had me sicking you on all the eGG Bandits and leaving them bloodied. That is what you are. You are nothing but a rabid dog to be used to help others. Unfortunately, you have attempted to rise above your station and try to get in my way. Scott Woodson thought putting you in Alcatraz would quench your attempt to rise, but he had it wrong. You don’t need lessons; you need full-fledged defeats and that is where I come in.
Harrison stands up and points at the camera.
Steve Harrison: I am here to do whatever is necessary to win tonight. I am not letting my chance at finally getting my hands on Cancer Jiles’s neck slip through these gorgeous fingers. The LSD title is about to come to a man who can give it dignity and if I must do undignified things tonight to make that a reality…then so be it. I look forward to beating some Miracles into you tonight, Hughie. Send some guards to see me later. I can give you some Miracle Milk to help you recover on your way back to that dark dingy jail, from the blood letting you are about to receive. See you real soon, mate.
The Suplex Saint grabs his Holy Water and pounds it and sits back down as the scene fades as we head to commercial.
We come back live from commercial and immediately cut to the announcers
Joe Hoffman: Welcome back everyone. I just received word that during the commercial break that something went down and it doesnt sound good. We got a video and…
Benny Newell: Ah Faces of Death….High Octane Edition……I am here for ALL of it.
Joe Hoffman: I am not sure…..oh nevermind…..roll the video guys.
We cut off the announcers and the High Octane Vision screen comes to life above the entrance ramp and the Chicago crowd turns their attention to the HOV as the video begins.
The footage begins immediately with the camera zooming in on a couple bodies laid out on the concrete. The camera pans across the bloodied faces of Jason Storm and what was supposed to be his opponent tonight, John McKinney.
Both men are knocked out, bloody and in their street clothes. As the camera continues to pan out we see that they are lined up in the middle of the Best Arena back parking lot where the wrestlers and staff enter the arena.
The bodies have been obviously placed next to each other…..by someone……and suddenly we get our answer as a voice can be heard off camera…..a voice that sounds eerily familiar.
“Simple math here……you put in 0 effort……you get the fuck out. No more coddling. This ends now”
The camera starts to turn towards the person speaking but the camera jolts back into place, obviously the person stopping the cameraman from turning, and remains focused on the body.
“Let these two bodies be the warning shot for the rest of the company. What happened at No Remorse and since, will no longer be allowed or permitted…and if your effort doesn’t mean the Best standards….then you will be gone….just like these two assholes”
The camera remains focused on the two bodies as the video comes to an end and we cut back to the announce team live inside The Best Arena.
Joe Hoffman: Well its pretty clear from what we just saw that McKinney and Jason Storm will NOT be wrestling any longer here in High Octane Wrestling
Benny Newell: 0 plus 0 equals Fuck You. You don’t put forth the effort then you gots to go.
Joe Hoffman: What I want to know is who attacked the two men……and who was speaking? I KNOW I KNOW that voice….but I don’t want to speculate.
Benny Newell: Well whoever the fuck it was it was very clear that Lee was pulling the strings and that is the only thing that matters because its clear as fucking day to me that Lee is alive and well and ready for a full out revenge tour. I mean no way does RAH show up without Lee signing off…and this attack…..clearly GOD was behind it….
Joe Hoffman: I don’t know about that Benny…..I mean…….I just don’t know. But what I do know is that we have to cut elsewhere and the show must go on. So with that said…..
The action cuts backstage as the show indeed moves forward.
Joe Hoffman: Next up we’ve got Gilda Starr vs Simon Loveless.
Benny Newell: According to my awesome sources, this match up could be the match of the night.
Joe Hoffman: Well that sure is a bold, out of place Benny move to make.
Benny Newell: Go fuck yourself Hoffhole! My sources never lie! DRINK!
Hit the lights of the arena and hit those ivory keys of the piano because “Nobody Does it Better” by Carly Simon begins to play out over the PA system. The curtain parts as the theme from “The Spy who Loved Me” continues to play and out steps both Simon Loveless and his girlfriend slash manager Missy Monet. Loveless is wearing his yellow wrestling trunks, which have the initials ‘SL’ across the front in black and black t-shirt which reads ‘Summer of Loveless’ across the front. Missy is wearing an extremely tight fitting dress tonight which makes the crowd happy, but Simon is there to remind them to keep their hands and eyes to themselves. As the song continues, Simon pulls Missy behind him making sure none of the mutants in the aisle are able to touch his manager.
Bryan McVay: Introducing first…from Seattle, Washington, weighing in at 198 pounds, he is accompanied by the loveless Missy Monet, he is…SIMON LOVELESS!
Joe Hoffman: Well Simon thinks there is something that is going to go on in this match and he thinks it’s fishy.
Benny Newell: Did you figure that one all out on your own there hoffy? Because this next part is going to be GOLD!
The lights dim, the opening sounds of Garbage’s “Empty” begin to play when suddenly, the music changes to “Everybody Wants You” by Billy Squier. The ramp to the ring illuminates with yellow spotlights. Gilda/Jatt Starr emerge from the curtain followed by his large, scarred associate The Switch as the HOW fans ERUPT with cheers and adulation. The Ruler of Jattlantis makes his way down the aisle sporting a “GILDA STARR” baseball jersey (with #1 Dad on the back), khakis, and white sneakers with a rainbow colored heel because he takes pride in his in-ring accomplishments.
Joe Hoffman: WAIT, WHAT?!
Benny Newell: That’s fucking right Joe! The Hero of Jattlanta is motherfucking BACK!….I mean, Gilda looks absolutely smoking out there, doesn’t she?
Joe Hoffman: You’re really creepy sometimes, do you know that? Well I’ll be damned folks…looks like some people pulled the wool over my eyes this week!
Benny Newell: How about we just go with you don’t fucking pay attention…that one sounds a lot better.
In his left hand, the Sovereign of Starrgentina carries “Mister Whacky”, his walking cane with has a weighted, stainless steel head, which ironically has the words “Mister Whacky” etched on the top. Jatt Starr hands “Mister Whacky” to The Switch, performs a couple of quick warm up stretches, runs up the ring steps and enters the ring. The music fades.
Bryan McVay: And introducing his opponent, from Havre, Montana, weighing in at….232 pounds?….err, SIMON GILDA-JATT STARR SPARROW!!
Joe Hoffman: Well that was a mouthful. How is this even happening right now?!
Benny Newell: Would you just shut the fuck up and enjoy this spectacle we have in front of our eyes?! I’ve been waiting YEARS for this!
The match begins and Simon and Jatt, who’s actually giving a very impressive looking of Gilda, start to circle the ring. But it’s to the surprise of everyone that the Jatt-I Master goes for a dropkick straight to the knee of Loveless much to the shock of everyone in the crowd.
Joe Hoffman: WHOA! I don’t think Loveless saw that one coming at all!
Benny Newell: Well considering it’s the The Sultan of SeaJattle, and that was only the first move there Rockstar…but thanks for pointing that out!
Seemingly surprised with his own move, Jatt shrugs and starts to go to work on the knee of Loveless. The Jattsylvanian Count starts to drop vicious elbow drops into the leg of Loveless, but he’s doing it from the mat. Strike after strike, Jatt shows no mercy before he wipes his brow and surveys his brilliant work as Loveless simply grabs his leg. Starr doesn’t kip up on any stretch of the imagination, but he rolls to his feet and seemingly walks over as if he’s going to get council from himself? He looks confused as he just looks at The Switch, looking around in absolute terror as Gilda’s father appears to be absent from this match. Jatt actually starts to “believe” it until the Switch councils with him and he realizes he forgot he’s definitely overselling this match.
Joe Hoffman: Isn’t Jatt aware he’s not in his own corner? I mean, come on this should be obvious!
Benny Newell: You fuck off yourself right now you twat! That’s no fucking way to treat The Baron of Boca Jatton! You show him some fucking respect and DRINK!
Jatt, who seemingly has finally got a “bearing” on himself now, turns around and is completely taken off guard by Loveless who takes him down with a running roundhouse kick that rocks The Polka Prince of Jattvia. Jatt is rocked by the move as Simon quickly takes a few steps back before running at Jatt and leveling him with a step up ensuguri. Simon takes advantage and goes for the cover.
Joe Hoffman: Quick kick out there from Jatt. I don’t think he knows what hit him.
Benny Newell: Of course he fucking does…he got kicked in the face…twice. It’s just going to take a few moments because it’s been longer than it should have been since The Champion of Jattanooga has been in the ring! He’ll be fine!
Simon keeps it on the ground, too, as he rocks Jatt with several left stomps to the face. He’s not gonna be fooled by the façade of Gilda as he looks to back up and make another running attempt on the downed Starr. Simon takes his shot but Jatt grabs his foot in a stunning move and proceeds to twist it hard! Simon immediately goes down and holds his foot as Boettcher checks on him. This allows The Starrabian Knight to get back to his feet. He does so, but it takes a moment to obviously shake off the effects of the match so far. Starr grabs Simon and shrugs his shoulders as he hits a very thunderously impressive snap suplex. Jatt decides he’ll go for a cover by merely just putting his foot on Simon’s chest.
Joe Hoffman: Loveless grabs Jatt’s foot!
Benny Newell: Oh fuck me! This is not how I envisioned this first match to go! You better leave that fucking foot alone! That foot is a HOW classic!
Jatt looks down at Loveless and shakes his head trying to plead with Loveless who attempts to get back to his feet but actually crumbles due to the shots Jatt took to the leg. Jatt smiles as Loveless lets go of the leg and Starr grabs Simon and connects with the Falling Star planting Loveless into the mat. Jatt sweeps up the bad knee of Simon while locking in the Jattaclysm on the back of Simon’s neck as Simon has no choice but to tap out.
Benny Newell: HOLY FUCK! HE DID IT! THAT SON OF A BITCH ACTUALLY DID IT!
Joe Hoffman: That was an interesting match up, I won’t lie! It wasn’t the biggest match ever, but I’ve got to give Jatt credit where credit is due! He’s still the same old Jatt even if he’s knocking off some “rust.”
Bryan McVay: Here is your winner…..GILDA….oh fuck it….The Jattlantic City Idol, The Marquis of MadagaStarr, The Sovereign of Starrgentina, JATT….STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!!!
Jatt rolls off of Simon seemingly shocked at the result as Boettcher holds his hand high in the ring. The Switch then hands back “Mister Whacky” to Jatt as he seemingly lets it show.
Joe Hoffman: Well that was definitely an interesting match for sure and a great win for Jatt!
Benny Newell: I don’t care how it happened….he’s fucking BACK baby! DRINK!
Jatt can’t hold the excitement back as he does a little celebration dance in the ring as the show fades backstage.
Joe Hoffman: What an impressive match between Gilda Starr and Simon Loveless. I think the crowd really…
Benny Newell: What the hell is that racket coming from the skybox in section 214?! I can’t stand it!
Immediately the cameras cut to the backstage area where there’s a lot of bass coming out of the doors of the Skybox in Section 214 where Blaire Moise is standing outside of with the HOW camera crew. Outside the door is a sign that reads Section 214 Karaoke and 80s Party Celebration. Under the sign, it notes inside there’s free Pizza, Popcorn, Drinks and Photo Opportunities with the New HOW Tag Team Champions the Hollywood Boyz. Blaire immediately rolls her eyes as she opens the door and sees lots of strobe lights flashing in the background with an accompaniment to Thin Lizzy’s “Boys are Back in Town” blaring with the terrible rendition of Brian and Darin both finishing the song in the background finishing up in what looks to be old, tattered pants. As they finish up most of the fans erupt in cheers. As Brian and Darin finish up their song, they catch Blaire Moise out of the corner of their eyes. They throw on their special Nylon, 80s bright Hollywood Boyz jackets as they rush over towards her. They grab their HOW Tag Team Belts, drape them over their shoulders as they approach. They grab the red solo cups with a silver Z on them and hand one over to Blaire as they both embrace her.
Brian Hollywood: BLAAAAIRE!!!
Darin Matthews: BLAAAAIRE!!!
Blaire Moise: You know damn well you can’t just take over a skybox like this! Lee’s going to kill you both!
Brian Hollywood: Relax, Blaire, I’ve got it handled!
Darin Matthews: You’ve got it handled? I thought I got it handled?
Brian Hollywood: It doesn’t matter who got it handled, we both booked the Tag Team Title celebration of the century, Matthews! I handled the strobe lights, the props, and the amazing skybox here in the arena tonight.
Darin Matthews: True! True! I give you props for that, my fellow brother.
Brian Hollywood: And you got those amazing Z cups…
Darin Matthews: One Z for every time the roster complained about how we spelt our name. And don’t forget the karaoke machine. I got that so we could blare our Tag Team Championship celebration theme throughout the arenas without receiving Lee Best’s permission.
Brian Hollywood: Hashbrown Genius!
Darin Matthews: Hashbrown Tag Title Celebration Spectacular!
Brian Hollywood: Hashbrown….
Blaire Moise: Would you two please cut out all this crap right now! It’s getting…
Blaire Moise’s eyes flare up in anger as Darin Matthews comes back into the shot holding a hash brown from McDonald’s out as a peace offering for Blaire Moise as he’s chowing down on one for himself looking all innocently at her.
Darin Matthews: What?! I wanted to be hospitable!
Blaire Moise: You two are ridiculous! You win one championship over the course of HOW’s second year back in business and you’re already letting it get to your heads. You act like you’re God’s great gift to the world when you two continued to flounder around like fish out of water. You don’t deserve this. Hell, you deserve to have this party ended right now.
The mood is dead. Everyone’s immediately focused on Blaire Moise who is bright red with anger. She throws down the Z cup right as the music dies. Darin Matthews goes into crowd control mode while Brian Hollywood eases tensions with Blaire.
Brian Hollywood: Way to kill the vibe in here, Blaire! You know for once in our careers; we would love it if people would just stop assuming our intentions with these things.
Blaire Moise: Really? This is my fault?
Darin comes back into the scene with a bottle Dom Perigmon in his hand and a Z cup in the other and pours Blaire a glass of champagne along with himself and Hollywood.
Darin Matthews: Look, we aren’t here to play the blame game, right now, Blaire. But you’re kinda being a buzzkill. We get it. We’ve blown our egos around HOW for years. We’ve done fucked up all these years before this moment, our moment.
Brian Hollywood: Blaire, you have to realize, we’re celebrating us coming together for our common good after tearing each other apart limb from limb for the past four years. These HOW Tag Team Championships mean a lot of Matthews and I.
Darin Matthews: They’ve bonded us back together to help our careers. Separate, we destroyed our own careers, but together, we’ve always been able to overcome anything in our paths. Look, we know our records and we have some rebuilding to do. We left our careers in shambles these past four years of feuding. But we wanted to take a step back this week, celebrate our bond as brothers and further our chemistry to keep these Tag Team Championships around our waists for a long time.
Brian Hollywood: They mean that much to us! When Matthews came to HOW, and we won these belts together, it set off a chain reaction. We’re hoping to capture lightning in a bottle a second time with this victory. So let us enjoy and celebrate for one week. Sure, together we can be annoying as fuck. But it’s our moment and let us celebrate however the fuck we want to celebrate. We got this.
Darin Matthews immediately motions for three microphones as suddenly Queen starts to blare in the background. He hands one to Hollywood and looks at Blaire longingly, smiling.
Darin Matthews: Come on Blaire, you know you want to give in!
Blaire Moise: FINE! But only one song, assholes! Even you two dipshits deserve ONE moment after six years of hell.
Blaire grabs the microphone and just stands back as Darin Matthews and Brian Hollywood take center stage as “We Are The Champions” without vocals starts to blare more in the background. As the chorus’s opening chord opens up, we hear Brian and Darin continue to sing terribly in the background.
Brian Hollywood: We are the champions, my friends!
Darin Matthews: And we’ll keep on fighting til the eeeeeeend!
Both: We are the Champ…
Immediately as the song continues to play the cameras and sound to their party cut off and we see Benny Newell taking a shot of Jack Daniel’s on screen just disgusted at what he’s seen.
Benny Newell: FUCK THAT SHIT! We don’t air fucking Queen on HOW TV.
Joe Hoffman: Well looks like our broadcast truck cut their public celebration short.
Benny Newell: Good riddance! They’re terrible drunk singers!
Joe Hoffman: Anyways, Benny, we’ll be right back after a word from our sponsors!
The scene fades to black as we go to commercial break.
Scottywood vs. Hughie Freeman
Joe Hoffman: Welcome back to ringside folks as we prep for a rare live in arena visit from Hughie Freeman tonight as he will be here to take on Steve Harrison.
Benny Newell: I knew I smelled that pikey fuck backstage earlier.
Joe Hoffman: It seems Scott Woodson has had Freeman flown out here tonight… in what I heard were first class accommodations. Quite the upgrade from the past reports where Hughie was stuffed in a dog crate and held in the baggage hold of a Spirit Airlines flight.
Benny Newell: How does that fucker get a first class flight… and I can’t even put hookers and cocaine in as a business expense?
Joe Hoffman: By getting a LSD Title shot that Scottywood wants you to win maybe?
Benny Newell: I’m a World Title contender Joe… remember my five star match with fellow Hall of Famer Cecilworth Farthingtion where I took the greatest World Champion in HOW history to the limit!
Joe Hoffman: That is quite some Jack Daniels washing of history there Benny…
“Take the Money and Run,” By The Steve Miller Man starts to play and the curtain flies open. Steve Harrison walks out with his arms in the air, a smirk across his face. He begins walking towards the rings and begins waving at that crowd who return his waves with boos and indifference. The smirk begins to fade after hearing the response so the Miracle Man begins jawing back at some of the audience and pointing to himself yelling over and over “ME, ME, ME!.”
Benny Newell: Now here is a man who is the future of HOW. Undefeated at four and O and soon to drop the pikey back into reality that he’s nothing more then cargo bay scum.
Joe Hoffman: Harrison has had an impressive start here in HOW, this will be a big test for him though as Freeman is a deceptively dangerous opponent in the ring. At Bottomline he took out a much bigger RICK with that Fatality Punch.
Bryan McVay: The following match is scheduled for one fall… first making his way to the ring from Fairfax, Virginia and weighing in at 245 pounds… STEVE HARRISON!!!!!
Steve walks faster to the ring, his smirk now a scowl, he enters the rings and leans against one of the turnbuckles and begins talking to himself, his face becoming red in anger as he gets ready mentally to battle the criminally insane Pikey.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH, BEG MOTHERFUCKER, BEG!!!!
Seether’s “Beg” hits as instead of Hughie Freeman we see the COO of HOW, Scottywood making his way out to stage, barbed wire hockey stick in hand as the boos from the Chicago crowd intensify but we hear the music in the arena turn up louder to drown them out as Woodson makes his way down the ramp/
Benny Newell: Why is six pack of beer being brought… he’s not fucking joining us on commentary again is he?
Joe Hoffman: Do you really have to ask Benny? If there is a microphone nearby, our COO will talk into it.
Scottywood: What Chicago? I can’t hear you over the music?
The crowd tries to overpower the music, but they are no match for the speakers as Scotty chuckles before the music fades out as he steps into the ring and eyes Harrison for a second before turning to the hard camera.
Scottywood: Shitbags of HOW, I bring you a special treat tonight, all the way from his cell on Alcatraz Island… the man who will win the LSD from Jiles and subsequently lose it to me at Rumble at the Rock 10… The Pikey Prince who strikes death from his Fists of Fatality… HUGHIE FREEEEEEMAN!!!!!
“The Lonesome Boatman” by Dropkick Murphys hits as we see numerous H.A.T.E. guards making their way out onto the stage carrying a steel bed from Alcatraz with Hughie sitting unchained indian style on the mattress.
Joe Hoffman: Scottywood giving Freeman quite the luxury treatment ahead of his LSD Title shot… even allowing him to come to ringside unchained.
Benny Newell: Sure… unchained… but there are about ten guards with tasers surrounding him.
Hughie leaps off the bed and over the top rope as he wants to make a b-line for Scotty but the COO extends the hockey stick and keeps Hughie at bay as he instructs Hortega to hold the bell.
Scottywood: Easy Hughie… I don’t wanna bust that pretty face of your’s open before that bell rings. Save the HATE for Mister Harrison here and show Jilesy boy just what he has coming for him.
Reluctantly Hughie steps back as Scotty smiles and exits out of the ring and makes his way to the announce table as Hortega calls for the bell to start the match. The two men for go a traditional lock up as both men come in with hands raised.
Joe Hoffman: Not sure if Harrison wants to trade strikes with Freeman.
Hughie throws the first shot as Harrison ducks it and spins behind Freeman and connects with a side Russian leg sweep as he starts landing elbows strikes to the face of Hughie until he covers up. Hughie tries to fire back with a few shots that half connect as Harrison quickly transitions to the right arm of Hughie and quickly locks in an armbar.
Benny Newell: He suckered the pikey in and is now going after that arm, trying to take away that Flatulence Punch.
Joe Hoffman: Fatality…
Benny Newell: No, he smells like shit Joe… it’s a Flatulence Punch to my fucking nose. I’m gonna start doing chilly willys just to avoid it.
Hughie quickly tries to make it to the ropes as Harrison locks in the hold, Hughie can’t make to the ropes as he tries to pull his arm back away from Harrison and gets some separation before he intentionally gives up as Harrison pulls the arm back and Hughies elbow drives into harrison lower regions.
Joe Hoffman: That’s a DQ! Low blow!
Scottywood: Harrison did it himself! Smart tactic by Hughie.
Hortega agrees as Harrison releases the hold as he rolls over onto his side. Hughie pops back up to his feet as he flexs his arm, trying to work the strained muscles out before he pulls Harrison back up to his feet and tattoos him with a hard right to the temple. Harrison stumbles to the corner where Hughies drives a shoulder into Harrison’s gut. He picks Harrison up and sits him on the top turnbuckle as he starts to climb up after him.
Joe Hoffman: Hughie trying to go high risk… not a place we usually see him….
Hughie and Harrison not standing on the top turnbuckle, Hughie locks in a front face lock, seeming to go for a top rope DDT. But Harrison counters with a shot to the guts and shoves Hughie off the top rope.
Scottywood: Stay in your fucking lane Hughie!
Joe Hoffman: Harrison doesn’t seem to be in his lane either…. Look at his knees wobbling as he is alone up top.
Harrison looks down at Hughie on his back, but is frozen for a second as debates going for a move but the hesitation allows Hughie to pop back up and hit the top ropes, causing Harrison to fall hard from the top and crash into the mat. Hughie wastes no time as he comes flying in with a kick to the side of Harrison’s skull.
Joe Hoffman: Liquorice Laces!
Scottywood: That is the dumbest name…. I mean what a fucking kick!
Joe Hoffman: Cover by Hughie!
Benny Newell: Shoulder up by Harrison! Fuck you Freeman!
Harrison does indeed gets the shoulder up as Freeman drives a couple quick shots at Harrison before he can roll over to the ropes where Hortega jumps in the break things up. Hughie pushes Hortega out of the way though as he goes back at harrison who though kicks Hughie’s left knee and causes him to fall throat first across the second rope. Harrison then grabs the back of Hughie’s head and starts choking him out on the rope.
Harrison breaks the hold just before cinco as Hughie rolls off the rope gasping for air as Harrison pulls himself back to his feet and starts stomping away at the right arm of Hughie. It’s not Hughie grabbing the ropes to cause Hortega to step in. Freeman uses the ropes to start pulling himself back up to his feet as Harrison hits the far ropes and charges back at Freeman.
Joe Hoffman: Enlightenment!!! Driving that knee into the back of Freeman’s neck!
Scottywood: Can’t say I’m not impressed with Harrison here Joe.
Benny Newell: No! Stay off my fucking bandwagon!
Scottywood: Benny… you’ve never even seen a wagon… let alone been on fucking one. Now #DRINK!
Benny shrugs, agreeing with Scotty as the two take drinks from their respective glasses as Joe just shakes his head. Harrison goes to pull Freeman up to his feet, but Hughie comes up with a quick uppercut catching Harrison off guard and staggering him backwards. Hughie hits the ropes and leaps up going for his big finishing punch.
Joe Hoffman: Fatality Punch!
Freeman wrenches his arm back, but winches in pain midway through as he lands without connecting the punch as Harrison quickly grabs Hughie and lands a belly to belly suplex.
Benny Newell: Harrison targeted that arm and it paid off!
Harrison stalks Freeman as he stumbles back up to his feet and right into the crossface chicken suplex from Harrison.
Joe Hoffman: It’s A Harricle!
Benny Newell: The undefeated streak continues!
DING DING DING
Bryan McVay: Here is your winner…. STEVE HARRISON!!!!!
Joe Hoffman: Harrison does in fact improve himself to five and O now with a huge win over Hughie Freeman.
Scottywood: Fucking pathetic Freeman…
Woodson tosses his headset to the ground and grabs a mic as he makes his way towards the ring as Hortega is raising Harrison’s arm in the air to the boos of the HOW fans. Sliding into the ring is Scottywood who walks straight up to Harrison who turns face to face with the COO as the two staredown for a moment before Scottywood nods his head at Harrison and turns to Hughie Freeman who is just starting to stir.
Scottywood: You think a showing like that is going to win you the LSD Title from Jiles? You better dig down deep and find that fucking HATE that drove you to beat the fuck outta RICK. Because if you fail to beat Jiles… then you’re gonna beg motherfucker… beg for something just as simple as a death match come Rumble at the Rock. You think shit is bad now? Just fucking wait for what I have in store for you Hughie.
Throwing the microphone down on the ground Scotty picks up Hughie and lifts him onto his shoulders.
Joe Hoffman: GAME MISCONDUCT!!!
Scotty plasters Hughie on the mat his trademark move as lays on the mat staring into the glazed over eyes of Freeman.
Scottywood: Beg Motherfucker, beg.
“Beg” by Seether hits as we cut away from ringside and back to the backstage area.
You can tell by the nondescript walls and scuffed linoleum that leads off in either direction. There’s High Octane propaganda plastered everywhere, framed covers of #97Red Magazine, pay-per-view posters, you know the like. On the scene, microphone in hand and a glimmer in her eye is one Blaire Moise. As always, she’s got the goods as it pertains to HOW journalism.
Blaire Moise: I’m here tonight with a man who’s seen his fair share of ups and downs since returning to HOW two months ago, a man who put a brutal beating on Erin Gordon just a half an hour ago; Mister Dane, would you care to step in and say a few words?
And he does, right on cue. The Antagonist is showered and dressed in street clothes, a blue and black button-down over a pair of gunmetal grey slacks. Aside from the bags under his eyes and the remains of a gash on his forehead The Only Star looks as dapper as is possible.
Eric Dane: I’m always happy to chop it up Miss Moise.
Blaire Moise: First thing’s first, you’ve been awful radio silent about you Street Fight at No Remorse with Lindsay Troy. Any particular reason why?
A moment passes as Dane contemplates.
Eric Dane: Lindsay Troy took what she was owed. No more, no less. I don’t see a reason to dwell on it.
Blaire Moise: I notice you’re still missing that tooth she knocked out.
Eric Dane: Yeah, well, my contract doesn’t come with dental insurance.
Blaire Moise: Also couldn’t help but notice that after you beat Erin Gordon to within an inch of her life in what looked like a message to somebody, you finished her off with the very same hold that Troy tapped you out with at No Remorse.
The Only Star smiles a fake smile. He hesitates, deciding whether to say something rude or try and keep things somewhat professional.
Eric Dane: Blaire, if all you’re gonna do is grasp at straws and throw shit at the wall to see what sticks then maybe you’d better go find yourself Darin Zion or Zeb Martin or somebody else of that ilk. If you want to continue this interview with me, do us both a favor and ask a legitimate question.
Blaire Moise: Alright then, how about this. Tell me, after everything leading up to and including No Remorse, and after the beating you gave Erin Gordon tonight, what exactly do you have to say for yourself?
Dane hesitates again, then smiles.
Eric Dane: Everything is a means to an end. Everything I’ve done since coming back here has been for a reason. Whether you understand it, or Lee understands it, or Lindz understands it, or any-the-fuck-body else understands it, it’s true. Everything up to No Remorse? That’s the past. As far as tonight and Erin Gordon goes? I’d have made that kid a star tonight if she’d only shown up and put the work in. She didn’t. She was distracted and she paid the price. It’ll kill her or it’ll make it stronger, or honestly I don’t fucking care what happens to her.
She’s the past.
In the present, and in the very near future, the one thing that everybody walking around with an HOW contract needs to realize is that Eric Dane is a force of nature, and he is not to be trifled with. Anybody too arrogant or too stupid to figure that out is gonna end up exactly where the young Miss Gordon is by now, in the fuckin’ hospital.
Blaire Moise: Anything else?
Eric Dane: Yeah. Rumble at the Rock is coming up. I’m going to be there. I’m going to have a match. And I’m going to make a statement. I don’t yet know the opponent or the circumstance or even if I’ll have to break in and crash the fuckin’ party, but I’m gonna be there. I defy anyone and everyone on this roster to try and stop me.
He smiles the widest of smiles.
Blaire Moise: Well folks, there you have it! Let’s hit a commercial break…we will be right back folks!
Back live and the HOTv cuts to darkness before it fills with light. The dilapidated ruins of Five Time Academy appears in the bright Florida sun, the recent rains having further damaged the former school and current resting place of the High Octane Company Car.
And also possibly the Minister.
A persistent beeping breaks the silence as a flatbed truck transporting a massive bulldozer. It is joined by an entire construction crew wielding sledge hammers, shovels and jackhammers.
Sutler Reynolds Kael: Family is a Curse.
The construction crew immediately gets to work tearing down Five Time Academy like a horde of Fraggles setting themselves upon some fresh Doozer buildings. The process speeds up as we enter a time lapse of the crew tearing the building down block by block, gutting the structure and hauling it’s dusty innards away.
Sutler Reynolds Kael: Let’s talk about mine in High Octane Wrestling. At the top is Lee Best, the Patriarch, the God of HOW, a man who only gets hard on bloodshed and buyrates, my own dear GrandPapa. He’s hired people to murder his sons, engineered peoples mutilation and be subject to a Federal Indictment. He’s survived stabbings, beatings, poisonings and cancer. He’s not a nice man.
The rest of the structure is torn down as the sun rises high above the site. Once the internal structure is gutted the floors are and walls are brought down, plumes of smoke and dust fills the area. Still the dutiful construction workers press on.
Sutler Reynolds Kael: Michael Lee Best, the Bastard of Five Time Academy, World Champion, Hall of Famer, the Son of GOD, egotist, deranged and deeply insecure. I’m not sure if High Octane Wrestling changed him or if he was always one of the worst humans alive but it hardly matters now. He’s ruined lives, beaten innocent people, I’m fairly certain he’s killed at least one person and he’s my uncle. He did once take me to Disneyland and let me stay at his gym when my father abandoned me officially making him the nicest person in my family.
With the rubble removed the hole left behind is filled in with rock and dirt. The sun slowly begins to fall to the west, long shadows stretching across the construction crew. Soon a pavement construction crew arrives to replace the other as a fresh layer of black asphalt is spread across the real estate that was once Five Time Academy.
Sutler Reynolds Kael: ..finally, the last piece of the Trinity.. Maximillian Wilhelm Kael. Sadistic, machiavellian, cowardly and those aren’t even his worst character traits. Despite all his durability, strength and conviction he’s never been anything more than Lee Best’s lesser talented option when Mike was on the outs with Lee. He ruined my life so when I was presented with the chance to get just an ounce of revenge you’re Goddamn right I took it! I helped put the Minister Max Kael, Hall of Famer, Third in the Holy Trinity of High Octane in the ground.
As the moon climbs high into the sky the last of the construction crews leave the site where Five Time Academy once was. Now all that remained was a still warm, pit black sheet of asphalt that stretched like a patch of the void. A sign remains behind near the street for Sinclair Industries and to call if inquiring about purchasing the property.
Sutler Reynolds Kael: ..now I just pray that he stays there.
The video pauses and rewinds back to when the original construction crew leaves and the paving team tags in. At first it doesn’t seem strange, just a group of workers passing each other however the video pauses once again and rewinds, slowing down to normal speed. A particularly tall construction worker can be seen limping through the crowd with his helmet pulled down over his eyes. The figure looks toward the camera for a moment before vanishing behind a sea of workers. The film rewinds and pauses on the image of the man staring at the camera though the image is too grainy to make out any details.
Sutler Reynolds Kael: Family is a Curse.
The image statics for a moment before the image sharpens, the figure coming into focus. A toothy grin is stretched across the face while a red glow can be seen from the shadows of the helmet. For a moment you think you hear the sound of a faint giggle before the HOTv returns back to darkness.
The camera cuts backstage in the Best Arena, where HOW interviewer and known former substance abuser Brian Bare is standing by with a hot microphone. Standing to his right, HOW World Champion Michael Lee Best stands with the championship slung over his shoulder, wearing a t-shirt with a logo on it that vaguely looks like something from an overrated YouTube wrestling channel– it’s hard to tell, because it has been completely blurred out by the production truck. It’s a whole thing, we’re not gonna get into it.
The sling that was on the champion’s arm last week is gone, because an extreme lack of work ethic by the High Octane Roster has forced him to heal more quickly than he had planned to need to heal. He shifts the belt from one shoulder to the other, eying the interviewer with contempt.
Brian Bare: I’m standing here with–
Mike Best: Shut the fuck up, Brian. Tell your mom to double on the Winterfresh gum before she eats my asshole, I like my downstairs smelling like an alpine cabin.
The corners of Brian Bare’s mouth curl downward, as he tries to hide his little sad clown frown. Years of abuse from the Son of God have taken their toll on him over the years, and he decides not to disclose to the HOW World Champion that his mother recently became seriously ill. It’s a good call, because Senor El Besto does not give a single fuck.
Brian Bare: …one week ago, you made an open challenge to the HOW roster for a shot at the HOW World Championship at Rumble at the Rock. The catch, of course, is that whoever accepts the match… accepts a fight to the death.
Mike Best: Yep.
Brian stares at Michael, waiting for him to continue. He doesn’t.
Brian Bare: …and as of this moment, no one has accepted that challenge?
Mike Best: Nope.
The champion crosses his arms in front of his chest, the boredom on his face beginning to show.
Brian Bare: …I, uh. I’m not really sure where to go from here, Mike.
With a snide sigh, the Son of God snatches the microphone from Brian Bare, poking him in the forehead with the live end before taking a healthy step away from the interviewer.
Mike Best: Boy, you really are a fuckin’ goose egg, Bare. Brian Barely an interviewer. What happened to that trashy ginger broad I hired?
Brian Bare: …she was terminated, I believe.
Mike Best: Man, I wish you were fucking terminated bud. Whatever they pay you, it oughta be half that. Half pay for a halfwit. Think about how much better the world would be if you’re mother had self esteem in that Denny’s parking lot after prom. Go slip yourself a Mickey and see if you strike out playing single player, you fucking junkie loser.
Without blinking, Michael Best stares an absolute hole into Bare’s forehead, making it very clear that he no longer wants to interact with him. Brian holds up a finger and opens his mouth to speak, but quickly thinks better of it— he slowly and sadly walks off camera, probably off to get back on heroin or something.
Mike Best: As useless and untalented as he may be, Junkie McNugget is right— it’s been a calendar week, and I haven’t heard a fuckin’ peep out of the roster about my Literal Deathmatch Challenge. What’s wrong, kids? Not as ride or die for the 97 Red as you like to brag about? Still waiting on those balls to drop? I’ve got an open ticket to the main event of Rumble at the Rock, and you soft pissbabies are just sitting in the back hoping that Lee Best invents another title for you to fuckin’ compete for.
He shakes his head, both in mocking condescension and real, actual condescension.
Mike Best: This is the reality we’re living in, boys. You want this title, you’re gonna have to fucking kill me for it. You can keep sitting in the back blowing baby batter about how someday you’re gonna win the big one, or you could step up, tug on those nutsacks strapped to your thighs from the insides of the toddler sized briefs you bought at Baby Gap last month and accept my challenge. The time for blowing smoke about being the best in the business is over, and now it’s time to back up all that shit you’ve been talking– it’s time to back it up against the single greatest champion in the history of HOW. Come on, who’s it gonna be? I’m waiting.
He cups his ear out toward the backstage, rolling his eyes as he’s met with only silence.
Mike Best: You all love to talk about your 97 Red, but nobody wants to bleed it. Fuckin’ embarassing.
He flips the microphone toward the camera, sneering as he turns toward the exit. The HOW World Champion walks off camera, leaving us staring at the black curtain before cutting away to continue tonight’s show.
Joe Hoffman: Alright, it looks like we’re back! And it’s time for the much anticipated main event!
Benny Newell: Time for the Hammer to pound the Nail back in its place!
Joe Hoffman: For how many drinks you’ve had at this point in the show, I’m kind of impressed.
Benny Newell: DRINK!
The lights go out, and a dual-spotlight makes an encircling pattern on the entrance area as the opening riff of “DADDY’S HOME” by JT Music plays.
Joe Hoffman: And here comes the aforementioned Hammer of GoD!
As the intense drums blast in the background, Dan Ryan steps out, with the ICON Title strapped around his waist, and pauses. He scans the audience then heads down the aisle as pyro blasts behind him. The HOV displays clips from his HOW career: power bombing Bobby Dean, super kicking Andy Murray, taking MJ Flair’s head off with a clothesline, hitting Perfection with the Headliner, countering a Jack Harmen dive into a vicious power slam, and smirking as he pins Doozer. The video comes to a close with Dan Ryan raising High Octane’s ICON Title after defeating Cayle Murray at No Remorse.
Bryan McVay: The following, non-title contest is a No Holds Barred, Hardcore match… making his way to the ring, weighing in at three hundred and five pounds… the High Octane ICON Champion… DAAAAAA-AAAANNNNNNNN! RRRRYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAANNNNNNN!!!
Joe Hoffman: Here he comes, fresh off winning the ICON Title! You have to imagine he’s not only out here with the mindset of proving the ICON Title deserves its second tier status, but also to get some payback for how the last match ended between these two.
Benny Newell: Over under on how many times Cancer’s body twitches while he’s out cold on the mat after Ryan’s through with him?
Joe Hoffman: Uhhhhhh…
Benny Newell: Three and a half?
Dan Ryan walks directly to the ring, rolls in under the bottom rope, and climbs the nearest turnbuckle, keeping his arms down and smirking into the crowd as the music plays. He hops down onto the mat, removes the belt, and hands it over to Matt Boettcher.
Benny Newell: Bring out the sacrifice!
Joe Hoffman: You do know Jiles won the last match these two ha-
Benny Newell: NOT AGAIN, JOE! NOT! AGAIN!
The lights quickly dim, putting the Best Arena into a murmur. Pitch black, followed by the hush of absolute silence, and then the clang of a blinding white spotlight kicking on echoes throughout the building. The spotlight, which illuminates the entirety of the curtained area of the entrance ramp, is in the shape of a gigantic egg.
The building rumbles in anticipation. Smoke fills the ramp space.
Seconds pass, then the spotlight egg cracks. Pyros touching the roof accompany the crack, as does the opening guitar riff to, “I am the COOL.”
Joe Hoffman: It’s the Nail of the Bandits!
Benny Newell: I hate that nickname almost as much as I hate him. DRINK!
“I’m the one your mama warned you about”
A fanatical eruption of excitement explodes out of the live audience upon hearing the spot on lyrics of Screamin’ Jay Hawkins.
“When you see me, I will leave you no doubt”
Out from behind the curtain steps the T-shaded, wolf fur cloak wearing, LSD Champion. Only the top half of him is visible, with his belt draped over his left shoulder. The bottom half, from the COOL tattoo down, is shrouded by the smoke.
“I’m the coolest man that ever walked this earth”
The Maestro doesn’t get too far, stopping in his tracks after only a few steps. He slowly begins to open his arms, until they are fully outstretched so he can properly and warmly welcome the feverish reception.
“I’ve been the coolest since the day of my birth”
Quickly, Jiles cocks his head so he’s looking up towards the rafters and presumably the lights for the last time this evening. He then aggressively sprays a short burst of yolk-yellow mist high into the air. Before it can land on him, he starts his walk towards the ring.
Bryan McVay: And his opponent, weighing two hundred and twenty nine pounds… the reigning LSD Champion… CAAAAAAAAAAANCERRRRRRRRRRRR! JIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIILES!!!
“I am the COOL.”
As the crowd fills the building with cheers, Jiles smiles, pointing to various spots in the stands with one hand and slapping his LSD Title with the other. He grabs the belt from his shoulder before sliding into the ring. Feeling the eyes of Dan Ryan upon him, Cancer quickly pops up to his feet and backs up to his corner. His eyes don’t break from Ryan’s, as he holds his belt off to the side for Boettcher to collect.
Joe Hoffman: Looks like we’re about ready to go! Benny, if looks could kill, The Maestro would be dead right now. Ryan looks like a pissed off bull waiting for the gate to open.
Benny Newell: You’re right, Joe. Four and a half.
Before Boettcher can address the two competitors, Dan Ryan lunges forward and connects a sharp right hand that adjusts Cancer’s jaw. Before Jiles can react, the Murrrrrderer sends a hard left into his gut.
Joe Hoffman: The Maestro’s doubled over after a pair of hard blows.
Ryan holds the COOlympian in place with his left hand while raising his right arm up high, before bending it and snapping it down.
Benny Newell: ELBOW BRACE TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD! HOW LOVELY!
The shot sends Jiles face first down onto the mat, holding the back of his head. Ryan steps to the side of his downed opponent and drops a heavy knee into the back of Cancer’s ribs. He smirks, watching Jiles writhe in pain, then drops another.
Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan’s putting the knees to The Maestro. This has not been a good start for the LSD Champ!
After dropping a third knee, the Hammer shouts down at his opponent before grabbing a fistful of gray hair and pulling him up to his feet. He grabs Jiles left arm and whips him into the ropes. Cancer bounces back as Ryan lifts a big boot-
Joe Hoffman: Graybush slides under Ryan’s raised leg!
Benny Newell: Out of all the nicknames, don’t say that one ever aga-
Joe Hoffman: TERMINAL CANCER! CANCER JILES, WITHIN THE BLINK OF AN EYE, JUST SENT A SUPERKICK UP AND SOMEHOW CONNECTED!
Jiles scrambles out of the ring and stumbles backward into the railing before dropping to a knee.
Benny Newell: Don’t you ever interrupt me again, you miserable fuck.
Dan Ryan lays motionless in the center of the ring, as the referee checks him for consciousness. Jiles quickly gets back to his feet and slides back into the ring under the bottom rope and makes a cover. The referee slides for the count, but only reaches one as Dan Ryan kicks out.
Benny Newell: Dan Ryan kicks out of Terminal Cancer!
Joe Hoffman: He had like 5 minutes to recover, Benny. Not as momentous as you might think.
Benny Newell: Can it Hoffhole!
Jiles pleads to the referee for a count of three, but the LSD champs attempts at an overturn are future as the referee shows him the count of one with a middle finger which prompts an egg smash over the head from the COOL one. The yolk drips down Boettcher’s face as Jiles gets to his feet and taunts the official.
Joe Hoffman: Looks like Matt Boetcher’s brain has been….scrambled.
Benny Newell: (swigs Jack) Fuck outta’ here with that shit and call the match.
JIles celebrates the egg smashing, but is clubbed over the head with a running forearm from Dan Ryan that sends the Bandit through the middle rope and to the outside of the ring. Dan wastes no time, and follows Jiles to the outside. Without hesitation, Dan reaches under the ring and pulls out a…
Benny Newell: FUCK YES!
Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan’s grabbed himself a Kendo stick!
Jiles slowly pulls himself up to a crawling position, exposing his back to a vicious onslaught of Kendo stick shots that turn the wood into splinters in Dan Ryan’s hands. Ryan looks at the welted back of Jiles and tosses what’s left of the Kendo stick aside.
Joe Hoffman: Some brutal shots from Dan Ryan!
Benny Newell: Some GoD shit from the ICON champ! (swigs Jack)
Dan continues the assault with a stick kick to Jile’s ribs which flips him like an omelet onto his back. Dan Ryan follows up with an elbow drop, but Jiles quickly rolls out of the way as 300 plus pounds of Dan Ryan flesh smacking down onto the outside floor echoes throughout the arena.
Benny Newell: Jesus, I nearly tumbled out of my chair.
Joe Hoffman: Your equilibrium is screwed from all that Jack, Benny. Don’t blame it on Dan Ryan.
Benny Newell: Mother fuck..
Jiles attempts to regain his footing and establish some sort of offense in the match, but his attempts are stifled as he slips on the egg white residue that’s dripped from the forehead of Matt Boetcher onto the outside floor.
Joe Hoffman: The COOL one is beginning to look like a…..shell….of himself at this point.
Benny Newell: What in the fu…
Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan is back to his feet, and he pulls up Jiles along with his.
With a closed fist, Dan Ryan plants a stiff punch into Jiles’s forehead. Jiles teeters backward, and Dan Ryan goes for the kill with a wild left hook.
Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan looking to knock Cancer Jiles into next Tuesday, but Jiles ducks under and flattens Dan Ryan on the outside floor with a textbook neckbreaker!
Benny Newell: Are you going to talk this much? Cause if you’re gonna talk this much, I’m gonna need another fuckin’ DRINK!
Jiles is quick to his feet this time, but somehow, so is Dan Ryan who clinches the back of his neck and groans in pain. Jiles throws and lands a few quick right hands before backing Dan Ryan up against the ring apron and then driving a knee into the much larger man’s stomach. Dan doubles over in pain and drops to a knee, only to be whipped into the nearby barricade backfirst. Dan Ryan crumbles down to a knee once again, but this time darts back toward Cancer Jiles. But Jiles is too quick, and plants Dan Ryan down face first into the floor with a drop toe hold.
Joe Hoffman: Quick thinking by Cancer Jiles and down goes Dan Ryan.
Dan Ryan’s momentum caused him to slide half way under the ring apron and when he gets back to his feet and turns toward the crowd, he reveals that he’s been busted open badly and his face is covered in crimson.
Benny Newell: Crimson mask! You know, Hoffhole the last time I had a crimson mask, your..
Joe Hoffman: Cool it, Benny.
Dan Ryan stumbles backward, and rests against the ring as Cancer Jiles’ eye widen with excitement as he sees the opportunity he’s been presented with. Jiles wastes little time before he plans a stiff kick into Ryan’s gut, which forces the big man down to a knee. Jiles walks himself backward creating some space between himself and the grizzled vet, before charging in and planting a flying knee to the side of Dan Ryan’s head.
Joe Hoffman: Cancer Jiles showing how much he knee’ds this win!
Benny Newell: Easy you punny bitch. The knee puns are strictly reserved for the World Champ!
Jiles pulls Dan Ryan to his feet and lands a few stiff bunches directly to the open wound on Dan Ryan’s hairline. Dan Ryan stumbles backward away from the ring and up the ramp a few yards. Jiles quickly follows him and again throws a hard punch into the open wound causing blood to spurt down the face of Dan Ryan.
Benny Newell: This is getting bloody, Joe! I love it!
Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan has got to get back in this match!
Jiles pulls Ryan toward the ring and rolls him in under the bottom rope. Dan Ryan gets on his hands and knees and blood drips from his forehead into a small puddle in the ring. Boettcher checks with Dan Ryan, but Ryan is quick to shove him away. Cancer Jiles has climbed to the top rope and slowly waits for Ryan to get to his feet.
Joe Hoffman: Jiles is stalking Dan Ryan from the top!
And on cue, Ryan gets to his feet and his face is absolutely mashed by a missile dropkick from Cancer JIles, and once again Dan Ryan lies flat on his back in the center of the ring.
Joe Hoffman: Jiles with the cover!
Matt Boettcher slides in for the count.
Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan kicks out! Just barely!
Jiles drives a fist in the mat in disbelief as he yells inaudibly at the referee, attempting to claim a victory. But again, Boettcher is not having it and shows the count of two right in his face. Jiles turns his attention back to Dan Ryan, and is met with a couple of clubbing forearm shots to the chest, followed up by an echoing chop for good measure. Jiles stumbles backward into the corner as Dan Ryan wipes the blood away from his eyes and follows in after his opponent. Jiles attempts to sidestep his opponent, but Dan Ryan clinches him and then drives him into the mat with a perfectly executed belly-to-belly suplex.
Benny Newell: I FUCKING LOVE IT!
Joe Hoffman: Great move by Dan Ryan, but that gash in his head continues to pour blood!
Dan Ryan doesn’t bother with the cover, and instead gets back to his feet and pulls up JIles as well. Ryan whips Jiles into the corner and follows in with a devastating forearm smash. Jiles stumbles out of the corner and Ryan runs off the ropes…
Joe Hoffman: Hammer of GoD! JIles has been flattened by the Hammer of God! UNBELIEVABLE!
Boettcher slides in for the count…
Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan wins! What a bloodbath!
Benny Newell: That was some David Copperfield shit! I didn’t see that coming at all!
Joe Hoffman: 30 swigs of Jack will do that to a man….
Matt Boetcher calls for the bell as Dan Ryan climbs to his feet and raises his arms in the air.
Joe Hoffman: What a great showing by our ICON and LSD Champions but it was the ICON Champion Dan Ryan who comes out victorious in this hard hitting match tonight.
Benny Newell: Morale victories can fuck off….
The Ego Buster – impassive, emotionless – leaves ringside and the Wolf of Bandits Boulevard behind. He heads for the ramp, but doesn’t get very far up the incline when the crowd starts buzzing in their seats. Dan’s eyes watch the stage as Lindsay Troy, number one contender to his ICON Title, walks out from the back, seemingly to head him off at the pass.
Joe Hoffman: Things don’t seem to be quite over just yet, Benny.
Benny Newell: What, does she want a closer look at what she’s in for in a few weeks? That street fight with Dane’s gonna feel like a picnic in the park.
The crowd cheers for the Queen’s arrival, but she doesn’t acknowledge their adoration. Instead, she watches her brother-in-law continue his trek toward her, his vacant stare meeting her stony one.
Dan finally reaches the platform, and Lindsay, and where the two long-time friends and family members would acknowledge each other with a head nod, or a few words, there is silence. And continued movement on the ICON champion’s part, as he just keeps walking right on by.
Lindsay throws a glance over her shoulder, watches Ryan disappear behind the curtain, and her eyes narrow, just a tad, as Refueled comes to a close.
Footage taken, long after the show went off air, begins to run. The cameras follow behind the broad frame of the intimidating silhouette that is, Hall of Famer, Chris Kostoff. The big man slings a large duffel bag, like it weighs nothing, over his right shoulder, covering one of his nostrils and he clears a big clot of mucus out of the other nostril onto the parking lot floor.
Kostoff was here tonight to say goodbye to some folks before he takes some personal time off. It was a gut wrenching day but the big man, as always, continues to power onward.
He suddenly stops dead in his tracks, like a prize elk who just sniffed danger in the breeze. The duffel bag drops off his shoulder, but before it hits the ground a roar of aggression screams out behind him as a dark figure lunges at him. Kostoffs head snaps forward as pair of gold knuckle dusters bury themselves in the back of his bald dome, causing a sickening ‘clunk.’ Kostoff falls forward and the loud slap of his hands, hitting the tarmac, echoes around the basement parking lot.
The culprit stands over Kostoff, dressed all in black. Their face is concealed by a black hood and face mask covering the mouth, leaving only a dark pair of eyes. The eyes glare down at Kostoff, watching as the big mans trembling hand touches the wet spot on the back of his head where blood has begun to trickle out of a small wound.
With a grunt of struggle, the dark figure pulls Kostoff up to his feet and tosses him chest first into a large, steel, dumpster. He then begins to go to work on the kidneys with the knuckle dusters. Kostoff’s yelps start loud but get quieter as he begins to lose his breath. The figure then stops and hooks an arm around the throat of the big man, breathing into his ear.
Dark Figure: You..
Before the mystery attacker can get his words out, Kostoff breaks free with a sharp dig of the elbow. He then throws back his head which connects with the mouth of the masked culprit,sending him down to the tarmac, holding his jaw. Kostoff, with the familiar look of sheer fury and vengeance in his eyes begins to march towards the downed attacker. With one arm he drags them to their feet and throws them back against the dumpster, disabling them with a swift right hand to the gut.
Kostoff: Let’s see which dumb-FUCK we got hiding under this mask..
With that, Kostoff yanks back the hood and rips off the mask. His eyes bulge as he sees who is beneath the disguise.
He gasps as he stares a the face beneath the disguise. Looking back at him, with slicked back hair and the unmistakable handlebar moustache, is none other than fellow Hall of Fame legend, John Sektor. Sektor, with a familiar smirk, spits blood out the corner of his mouth before nonchalantly lifting his chin towards Kostoff.
Sektor: Que pasa?
Before Kostoff can react, he is again blindsided as a trash can crushes around his back and shoulders. He falls to one knee as Sektor quickly rolls out of the way. The camera swings around to reveal..
The Ruler of Jattlantis..
The Sultan of SeJattle..
The King of Grapple from the…you get the idea…JATT FREAKIN STARR!
Jatt swings the trash can down again, and again, and again, until Kostoffs arms and legs finally give out and force him to collapse onto his chest. Sektor, up on his feet and wiping the blood from his mouth, stands next to Jatt. The two look at one another and slowly break into a shared and knowing smirk before Sekfor finally nods his head toward Kostoff. The two former enemies begin sticking the boot into their downed Hall of Fame compatriot, neither holding back as they viciously target the ribs. Kostoff tries his best to get into a ball and defend himself but Jatt rings his bell with a punt to the head.
Sektor: Help me get him up amigo..
Sektor camly requests, sounding out of breath. He and Jatt both grab Kostoff under both arms and hoik him to his feet. Kostoff is gritting his teeth and amping up to fight his way out, but Sektor sends the Golden knuckle dusters into his gut, putting a premature stop to that ever happening. As Kostoff doubles over and wheezes, struggling to pull air into his lungs, Sektor casually leans down to whisper into his ear.
Sektor: You don’t have to be a genius, to figure out who this message is from…Pappa!
He and Jatt both nod before sharing the weight as they roll Kostoff up between their shoulders in a powerbomb starting position, before smashing his massive frame onto the tarmac with a double NO REMORSE.
The camera slowly pans out from the motionless remains of Kostoff before revealing Sektor and Starr side by side. The two turn to face one another as Sektor smirks from ear to ear, casually bringing up an open palm for Jatt to slap his hand into. The final shot is a closeup of the two Hall of Famers hands locked together in a hand shake.