Refueled V Results
The Yuengling Center.
Eleven-thousand strong are on their feet, the resulting electricity in the air pumping through the veins of the venue like a pint of blood cut with the finest coke, all as the gathered mass of humanity awaits the beginning of the hottest wrestling television show in the land!. Hands clap, feet stomp, and for another split second the crowd waits in blissful anticipation for the beginning of another night of HOW action.
The camera pans around the building, taking in signs, t-shirts and all manner of raucous wrestling fan as the opening pyro for Refueled V blows at the top of the stage, down the ramp, and from the four corner posts of the pristine wrestling ring at the center of it all.
A quick cut brings us to ringside where Joe Hoffman and Benny Newell are in position at the Commentation Station and ready to bring you the hottest wrestling on any screen, anywhere, broadcast live and in 4K UHD from the fine folks at HOTv!
Joe Hoffman: …AND WE ARE LIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!
Benny Newell: Well, you know, unless we’re being Tivo’d or captured into a torrent file to be shared with anybody with a half decent internet connection and a penchant for all things pirated.
Joe Hoffman: It’s Friday night, it’s eleven o’clock, we’re in Tampa, and it’s time for some HIGH OCTANE WRESTLING!
And the crowd goes wild, as if they weren’t already.
Benny Newell: I for one cannot WAIT to get out of this God-forsaken state, you think we can get this show on the road?
He throws back a shot of Jack, to get the taste of the Sunshine State out of his mouth, you see.
Joe Hoffman: What’s wrong with Florida? These fans have been just as supportive of HOW as the Chicago fans! What’s your deal, anyway?
Benny Newell: Have we even met? Do you know me? I’m the guy who complains about everything while you put everybody over! Also, Florida sucks, it’s too close to Alabama and I’m wearing flip-flops just to fit in! And what in the actual fuck is the deal with this whole Florida Man meme? I don’t get it.
Joe Hoffman: You’re incredulous!
Benny Newell: What does that even mean?
Joe Hoffman: Doesn’t matter, and do you wanna know why? Because tonight we’ve got ONE HELL of a show to put on! Last week left us with more questions than answers and we’re only just over a month away from what could be the last ever WARGAMES!
The lights drop.
The buzz of the crowd intensifies.
Benny Newell: Oh for Christ’s sake.
Joe Hoffman: What now?
Benny Newell: Are we still so broke we can’t pay the light bill? Wasn’t that a thing at one time, and like the reason why I’m only being paid nine bucks an hour for this run?
You can’t see Joe Hoffman roll his eyes, but he does. A couple of agonizing seconds pass in the darkness before the opening strains of Clutch’s “Binge and Purge” assaults the building’s state of the art sound system.
Joe Hoffman: Looks like we’re not gonna have to wait for long to hear from the Best Alliance!
Benny Newell: We crowned a new World Champion last week, Joe, and then Lee Best’s Best Boys and Girls Grappling Club laid him out! It’s only right that they be the first thing these humanoids get to lay their lucky eyes on tonight, am I right?
Joe Hoffman: You’re, ah… something.
The LCD screen at the ring entrance hums to life.
THE BEST ALLIANCE
A dazzling display of red and silver pyrotechnics is next, the explosions and all around commotion of it combined with brutal riffs and vocals come together in a crescendo that heralds the arrival of the newest and most exciting quartet of world-class rassle-fighters that HOW has signed since sometime in mid-2012! Not to mention their combined trophy case of World Titles alone is well over the half-century mark, it’s outright nauseating how good these people are at their jobs.
Benny Newell: I’ll be honest with you, Joe, after what went down last week I can NOT wait to hear what Dane and friends have got to say tonight!
Joe Hoffman: Yeah, I’m kind of curious what they’ve got to say for themselves myself…
Dan Ryan is out first tonight, towering like a monolith at the top of the stage. He’s dressed for business tonight in a slick black long-sleeve button-down with the top two buttons left undone, tucked neatly into a matching pair of black slacks and strapped up with you guessed it, matching black leather belt. His sleeves are rolled up a good third of the way and an easy smile sits right smack dab in the middle of his face. Aviators cover his eyes and his smirk widens as another round of pyro fires off around him.
Benny Newell: That Dan Ryan, he’s an absolute BEAST!
Joe Hoffman: He is indeed quite the specimen.
Benny Newell: That’s right! And here in about ninety minutes, he’s gonna be the spankin’ new High Octane ICON Champion, Hoffman!
Joining The Ego Buster on the stage is the duo of MJ Flair and the Queen of the Ring herself, Lindsay Troy. Flair is sporting a #97Red “Peerless and Fearless” logo t-shirt over black jeans and low-heeled black combat boots. The youngest member of the Best Alliance hops around the stage energetically, getting her fair share of cheers amidst the booing and hissing of the general consensus of HOW fans.
The Queen, on the other hand, is well known as Tampa’s Favorite Daughter. She couldn’t get a boo in this town if Cecilworth Farthington himself paid every fan in the building upwards of eighteen dollars! She trots around to stand on the other side of the stage from her brother-in-law rocking a “Best Alliance 2019” shirt, jeans, and boots. A knowing grin is perched on Troy’s face as she poses for the hometown crowd at the top of the stage.
Joe Hoffman: Here comes the ringleader of this little outfit…
Another round of potassium-nitrate goes boom around the stage.
Benny Newell: Brake Yo’self, nerd! Lee Best is the leader of the Best Alliance! He’s even the Captain of the WarGames Team! But Eric Dane… he’s the Best player/coach this side of ever!
The music grinds on and The Only Star erupts onto the stage like the human embodiment of an exclamation point. His hair is neatly pulled back, just long enough to produce the douchiest of man-buns, and his beard is trimmed up to just that state of perfection that makes you wanna reach out with an electric razor and try to gap him up. It is not suggested that you act on that impulse as Dane is known for fits of violence and a sheer lack of patience.
Joe Hoffman: Can you even believe this guy?
Benny Newell: Believe him? Hell, I’d trust him with my life! Eric Dane is a FINE and UPSTANDING gentleman of the highest degree! You can tell because of how snazzy he dresses!
The Antagonist is indeed suited and booted, as is his habit, in only the finest of blue and black pin-striped Italian silk, his feet wrapped lovingly in the most supple of unicorn-skin boots, a matching Burberry scarf around his neck and his eyes shaded by a pair of Maybach’s that cost as much as your house. I could tell you about the dazzling time-piece strapped to his wrist too but you’d have to have a credit score in the 950 range just to gain the knowledge.
Dane marches right through the rest of the Best Alliance and down the aisle toward the ring. All three of his teammates follow, and as they travel en masse toward the ring each one reacts to the fans in their own unique ways. MJ Flair slaps every outstretched hand she can find, while Lindsay Troy stops and has a quick moment with several familiar faces at the guardrails. Dan Ryan ignores them completely, and Eric Dane does his level best to incite every person in the building with his asshole antics and overall dick-headedness.
Joe Hoffman: The Only Star seems to be in fine form tonight, Benny, but if you’ll notice he’s not getting nearly as many cheers now as he did when he made his first appearance here just a few short weeks ago!
Benny Newell: Well, that’s because by and large, these people are idiots! Men like Eric Dane and Dan Ryan understand that. As for Dane, he’s not out here for the adulation of the mongoloids, Hoff, he’s out here to lead by example!
Once at ringside The Ego Buster is up on the apron first, pulling himself one-handed by the top rope with a practiced ease. Troy and Flair are next, in that order, and the massive enforcer of the group forced the top and middle ropes open for the Best Ladies in HOW to allow them easy access to the ring; Troy takes him up on the offer but Flair finds her own way, climbing to the top of the nearest corner and settling down as Ryan steps over the top rope. The DEFIANT King takes his time, waltzing around the ringside area toward the steps. He takes them one at a time before stopping at the top and pointing outward and upward to the sky as one final blast of pyro shoots off from the tops of the turnbuckles.
Joe Hoffman: The man knows how to make an entrance, that’s for sure!
With agility that you wouldn’t expect a man with his knees to have, Dane is the rest of the way inside of the ring; simultaneously Troy mirrors Flair on the opposite turnbuckle, Dan Ryan crosses his arms at center-ring, and The Only Star jaunts around and between them all, pointing to himself, pointing to his friends, and giving anybody with the audacity to boo him the middle finger and more than a few choice words. As the music finally fades, Dane takes a microphone from an attendant at ringside and brings it to his lips to speak.
Eric Dane: Listen here you bunch of Florida Fuckwads…
His words are lost in a sea of booing and hissing. Regardless of his time spent here in the nineties, or any goodwill he may have garnered running a bunch of DEFIANCE shows in the Sunshine State, nobody in Tampa tonight is a fan of the former bazillion time champion of places that he can’t remember and you don’t care about. Needless to say, were Dane the kind of guy who wasn’t used to this sort of reaction he might be just about to go apoplectic.
Lucky for everyone involved, he is not.
Eric Dane: What, you people don’t want to hear what The Only Star has to say?
An epic and collective ‘FUCK NAW!’ is emoted from the raucous Tampa crowd. Dane shrugs and passes the microphone off to the only person in the world who could give less of a fuck about what these people had to say about him: Dan Ryan. Dan’s booming voice cuts through the heckling like a lightsaber through… well… pretty much anything.
Dan Ryan: Thank you all for that warm, warm welcome.
Ryan turns and looks at Eric Dane.
Dan Ryan: That’s a warm welcome right?
Dane kinda shrug-nods.
Dan Ryan: (nodding) That’s what I thought. People have been talking ever since Refueled IV about what happened at the end of the show, where we poured a little mouthwash on the HOW World Champion and introduced yet another member of our WarGames team in Miss Mariella Jade Flair.
Ryan looks over at Flair who’s bouncing from one foot to the other.
Dan Ryan: Now there are certainly more surprises to come, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I’ll let the others talk about WarGames, but tonight’s a very big night for the Best Alliance. There’s business to be done and statements to be made. As you all know, I’m sure, I’ll be stepping into the ring with the insanely entertaining Best Boy, the master of style and unintended wit, the proud little buddy and rejected Scooby Doo character himself, the ICON, Cecilworth Jamelia Farthington.
Some cheers, some boos, you know how it goes.
Dan Ryan: Truth be told, this is the first time the two of us will be in the same ring with anything of value on the line, and I want this night to be memorable. I don’t wanna settle just for a jaw-shattering punch to his face like last time. No, this time, I’d like to leave a permanent impression. And I think… Probably… the best way to do that is to take that belt from around his scrawny little waist.
Ryan smirks, then holds the microphone out for his sister-in-law. Lindsay Troy gladly takes it and the mood in the crowd once again shifts.
Lindsay Troy: Hello, children.
Way, way more cheers than boos for the hometown lady. She smiles at her adoring public.
Lindsay Troy: You know, what happened last week really shouldn’t have come as a surprise to anyone. When you need to make a statement, you do it at the most opportune time. What is it about the three of us…
She points to herself, Eric Dane, and Dan Ryan.
Lindsay Troy: …that makes you think picking apart a newly crowned world champion wasn’t the perfect backdrop for setting the table for our intentions? Given our histories? Our ambitions? And each and every one of you knows that I am a very, very ambitious lady.
A patented, trademarked, LT smirk.
Lindsay Troy: Refueled IV was only the beginning. Tonight, the road to WarGames gets a lot rockier for the boys in the back. I can’t even begin to tell you how amazing it’s gonna feel to see Brian Hollywood’s dreams get crushed two shows in a row once MJ and I get done with him and the jailbird. Who knows? Maybe we can convince Lee to offer Jace Savage some reduced legal aid as part of the HOW benefits package. Because, not only am I ambitious, but I am also very generous. Call it my benevolence as your better, boys. Don’t say I’ve never done anything nice for you.
Troy hands the mic over to MJ with a flourish.
MJF: People love their fantasies, don’t they?
She pauses, paces.
MJF: I walk in the door, get into the HOW ring, and my first official act is droppin’ the World Champion like twenty pounds’a bullshit in a ten pound sack.
Some boos at the unprovoked attack, some cheers at the acknowledgement of the impact the debut made.
MJF: Halitosis, it’s like I said – nothin’ personal. But the fallout?
She shakes her head, laughing to herself.
MJF: I haven’t laughed that hard in a long, long… long time. Brian Hollywood and Jace Savage, I expected what we got – some generic ‘we’re great, you suck’ claims without knowin’ a single thing about me…
MJ points at herself, then looks at Lindsay Troy.
MJF: …or her. Or the amount of times all four of us have walked in the door of a company and simply said ‘This is our house now.’ But the big winner’a the night has to go to Jace Savage. I’m being used, Jacehole? I chose the wrong side?
She lowers the microphone and paces the ring for a few seconds.
MJF: I’m here for a challenge, Jacehole, not a faux-chivalrous white knight who wants to save me from myself. Fuck outta here with that noise.
The fans cheer despite themselves; it’s hard to boo what you could argue is a valid observation.
MJF: But the best one of all, no pun intended? I heard it took Mike Best like two hours to scrape his jaw up off the floor.
She turns to each of her partners and takes a brief, exaggerated bow.
MJF: Bottom line is this – we’re not here to make an impression, because we have. We’re not here to win War Games, because we will. We’re not even here to punish Mike Best, because we are.
MJF: We’re here to demonstrate… that we… are the best wrestlers in the world.
MJF: Because we can.
The fans give a cheer at the sheer ballsiness of the statement but it’s short-lived as she smirks and hands the microphone back off to The Only Star who up to this point had been pacing, chomping at the bit. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face that could melt steel and enough chutzpah behind it to start a riot.
Eric Dane: You’re goddamn right we can…
There goes the boo-birds again; they may have been sitting in remission for dear ol’ Queen Lindz and heir apparent Mariella Jade, but Eric Dane is pure cancer and these Tampa wrestling fans don’t want any part of it.
Eric Dane: What, you thought I was finished?
Eric Dane: You people thought that after twenty-five years this crowd would be the one to shut me up?
Even. More. Boos.
Eric Dane: Good luck with that.
He rolls his eyes and turns to The Ego Buster, sharing what must be a humorous aside with his colossal compatriot because both men give a chuckle and an over-hearing Lindsay Troy comically rolls her eyes.
Eric Dane: Whatever. Down to business. It’s come to my attention that a very vocal minority of the idiots and assholes in the back seem to have a problem with how Lee Best and the motherfucking Best Alliance have been running day to day operations here in the Refueled era of High Octane Wrestling.
Behind him MJ nods, the Queen smirks, and Dan Ryan makes it a point to not give a shit what anybody thinks about anything. The Only Star shrugs.
Eric Dane: You know what? Fine. Keep drinking that tired Kool-aid and congratulating each other for shit you did six years before we got here. Keep telling yourselves that you weren’t flat out replaced by your outright superiors and see how many of you that mantra lands in a goddamned trauma unit.
Eric Dane: Or worse. This is HOW right, murder is a thing here, right? And suicide too, ain’t that right Cecilworth? Maybe tonight after Dan Ryan gets done rearranging your teeth again you can get Dirk Diggler to feed you ice chips until WarGames. After that we can all go back to ignoring you like the unnecessary movie sequel that your career has turned out to be.
This gets a few laughs from even the staunchest of old line HOW supporters,
Eric Dane:: Also, apparently, Max Kael is a thing again, ain’t that right Max? You took three steps out of your little High Octane comfort zone and found out that you ain’t hot shit after all. More like a cold bowl of soup, or an inconvenient fire drill. You’re just one more boring fuck that people have to put up with, Max, nothing special.
Eric Dane:: Nothing exceptional.
He follows it up with an extended middle finger toward the hard camera.
Eric Dane:: But go on and do me a favor, you Jack Nicholson look-alike piece of crusty fuck. Take the belt off the breath guy tonight so that after I get done prying all that fake metal out of your head with a pair of rusty vice-grips at WarGames and jamming my knee into the bloody, gaping maw that’s left, I can take that strap right out of your cold dead hands and present it to Lee Best on a gold fucking platter! Or, you know, don’t, and lose every shred of relevance you’ve got left before we even make it to the cage. See if anybody here gives a shit or if it changes anything at all. Spoiler Alert: We don’t and it does not.
Everyone in the ring nods in agreement.
Eric Dane:: And then there’s Scottywood, the absolute definition of too little, too late. I could go on at length about that nappy-ass weave, those dollar store piercings, or that chicken scratch bullshit you call tattoos, but I feel like low hangin’ fruit more is more your territory you simple fuck.
Another middle finger, this one has a twin.
Eric Dane:: And let us not forget how you’ve been ducking a fight with me for weeks on end. But go ahead, keep on pretending on Twitter that you don’t know who the fuck I am, just remember that the only reason anybody even knows your name is because you had mine lodged down your throat like a soggy dick for a decade when I was running DEFIANCE…
MJ Flair lets an audible “GodDAMN!” slip, the Queen mimes a faux admonishment.
Eric Dane:: Well, here I am big boy, put that money you keep telling everybody you’ve got where your mouth is and come out here and prove to the world that you’re not just a fourth string token “Hall of Famer” getting a pitty-fuck spot on a three man squad! Bring your Uncle Mike and his Two Stooges while you’re at it and we can settle this whole fuckin’ thing right here and now so that Jiles and Doozer can scoop up Stoovins and Zion and we can do the Best Alliance vs the fuckin’ eGG Bandits at WarGames!
The Antagonist stop his pacing long enough to throw a leg through the ropes and hold them open, beckoning the opposition to come on down and get frisky. It’s a rhetorical request and everyone knows it, but that’s not the point. A few seconds pass and as expected nobody answers the call.
Eric Dane:: You three idiots are Season 26 of the Battered Housewives of Chicago! You know, where what’s left of the cast moves down to the Sunshine State for some of that beach life only to find out that skin cancer is real and it’s a goddamned killer.
That eternal Eric Dane grin extends, possibly wider than ever.
Eric Dane:: It’s me. I’m cancer. As you can tell by my friends here the tumor is growing, and as you ignorant cocksuckers are hopefully starting to figure out by now we are taking the fuck over.
His widening smirk is accompanied by an exaggerated shrug.
Eric Dane:: But hey, keep ignoring us. Keep hoping and praying that we’ll just ride off into the sunset. We’ve already moved into your house, fucked your girlfriend, taken all your shit, and come WarGames we’re gonna set the whole thing on fire so I can personally watch it burn to the ground around you!
That one gets another rise out of his teammates and the crowd is just staring on in slack-jawed horror at this point. Eric finally stops pacing in the direct center of the ring.
Eric Dane:: And fellas… Mike… understand this…
His eyes narrow, one brow finds itself cocked.
Eric Dane:: This has all been brought down on you by the design of your very own GOD of HOW himself, Lee Best, and Lee has personally asked me to inform you all that he wishes you all the best in all of your future endeavors.
With a wink and a flourish he throws both arms out, letting the microphone fly off into the ether and giving those in attendance one last chance to get their boos in before the music blasts and the camera switches back to Hoffman and Newell at ringside.
Benny Newell: Oh, my!
Joe Hoffman: I have no words…
Benny Newell: And why should you? Eric Dane has said it all!
Joe Hoffman: Yeah, no, none of that is gonna sit well with Michael Lee Best, I can guarantee you that!
Benny Newell: Jesus, Joe, I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to!
Joe Hoffman: We’ve got to take a break, folks, we’ll be back in sixty seconds with the HOW Hall of Famer John Sektor taking on Christopher Diamond!
War Games Match for the World and ICON Championships
The Best Alliance (Eric Dane, Lindsay Troy, Dan Ryan, MJ Flair, ?? vs. The eMpire (Farthington, Max Kael, Scottywood, ??, ??)
Following commercial the action cuts back to ringside where Chris Diamonds is already waiting in the ring, posing for the crowd who give him some generous support.
Joe Hoffman: Well folks it’s time to kick off tonight’s action with our first match of the night. Chris Diamond will take on Hall of Famer, John Sektor. This match was made by Lee Best following a controversial news post where Sektor made some derogatory comments towards the ‘God of HOW’ and insisted that he would be choosing his own War Games team.
Benny Newell: He’s lucky to have a job, let alone be jerking the curtain. Motherfucker has been a junkie until recent times, now all of sudden he thinks he can dictate shit around here? Man, fuck that!
Joe Hoffman: I’m sure you’ll be full of praise if he chooses the Best Alliance though, huh?
Benny Newell: What’s that supposed to mean?
Before Joe can respond, the entire arena is caught off guard by the next theme music to hit the sound system.
The crowd explodes to the throwback of Sektor’s old theme music, as the opening riff to Dirt Deeds Done Dirt Cheap by AC/DC rocks the Yuengling centre. Sure enough, John Sektor emerges, wearing his famous black and gold wrestling attire. His hair has been trimmed neatly and the mullet is gone and he is now resembling the man he once was.
Joe Hoffman: Dirty Deeds! And Sektor looks great! It’s pretty clear what he’s been doing these past few weeks.
Benny Newell: What? Eating protein instead of heroin?
Sektor looks all business as he marches down the ramp, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Diamond who is calmly leant against the ropes.
Joe Hoffman: Looks like he meant it when he said the Gold Standard was coming back.
Sektor wastes no time interacting with the fans, he quickly moves up the steel steps and onto the apron, wiping both feet before entering the ring. He quickly runs the ropes and tests them out before skipping to the middle and gesturing to referee, Joel Hortega, to call for the bell.
Joe Hoffman: Sektor’s not wanting to waste any time here.
Benny Newell: The drugs in his system probably have a short half-life..
Diamond removes his visor and tosses it out of the ring as Joel Hortega checks if both men are ready. Once satisfied he calls for the bell:
Diamond comes at Sektor quickly, but the Gold Standard side steps slightly and takes him down with a text-book drop toe hold. Sektor quickly rushes to set up the Sektor Stretch!
Joe Hoffman: Wait, has he..SEKTOR STRETCH! IT’S LOCKED IN MIDDLE OF THE RING!
Diamond screams and Sektor wrenches his neck back even harder. Diamond can’t help but quickly tap!
DING DING DING!!
Joe Hoffman: IT’S OVER!
Benny Newell: Shit..what a boring way to open the show. Mind you, it doesn’t look like Sektor’s for letting go..
DING DING DING DING DING DING
The bell continues to toll as Sektor keeps the hold locked in, really wrenching back and causing physical pain to Diamond. Hortega tries to pry Sektor’s arms off him but he’s too strong. Diamonds eyes suddenly look very droopy and begin to close. Sektor finally releases him and his head falls floppy to the canvas. The Gold Standard jumps to his feet and threatens Hortega for putting his hands on him. Some of the crowd jeer for Sektor’s lack of sportsmanship, but the sycophants in the arena cheer him on.
Brian McVay: Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner of the match in 11 seconds via submission….THE GOLD STANDARD…JOHN…SEEEEEEEEKTOOOOOOOR!!
Dirty Deeds replays as Sektor snatches his victorious arm away from Hortega and begins to head for the exit. As he leaves the ring, Blaire Moise is waiting for him with a microphone in hand. His music suddenly fades out and Sektor notices her and lets out a sigh.
Blaire Moise: Sektor, first of all congratulations on your win, you didn’t even break a sweat!
Sektor frowns at her slightly and shakes his head.
Sektor: Blaire, please don’t congratulate me on that..
He points to Diamond in the ring who is currently being loaded onto a spinal board and having his head and neck protected by EMT’s.
Sektor: That right there is a fucking embarassment. If Lee thinks he’s going to sweeten me by pulling shit like this then he’s gonna end up with egg on his face. And no..
He looks into the camera.
Sektor: That isn’t a plug for those fuckwit Egg Bandits..
Blaire Moise: Well, from that comment, are we to take it that you’re leaning towards Mike Best’s team for War Games?
Sektor jerks his head in a confused manner.
Sektor: What? No! Let’s not forget Blaire, the last time I saw Mike he was kicking me in the balls and chicken shitting his way out of our retirement match. I don’t like that mother fucker at the moment, any more than I like his father.
Blaire Moise: Soo, you still haven’t made a decision?
Sektor relaxes his demeanor slightly and smiles, running his fingers through his handlebar moustache.
Sektor: No, I haven’t. There’s a lot of things I need to weigh up and consider. I meant what I said. I’m going to decide my own fate. I’m sick to death of being of being treated like any other worker. I’m a fucking Legend. A Hall of Famer. I’m HOW fucking ROYALTY.
Sektor’s eyes are wide and serious.
Sektor: I’m not gonna be drafted. I certainly won’t tolerate these bullshit matches. The winner of War Games will have a lot of stroke when it comes to this network, and I want to make sure I’m backing the winning team. Lee can play it cool all he wants, but I know for a fact he needs a HOW veteran on his team. I’m taking charge of this situation and the team I pick? Will be the team that wins!
Blaire nods but still seems to have a mouth full of questions, as any good interviewer would.
Blaire Moise: So what’s going to factor into your decision making process?
Sektor: I dunno. Do I stick with what I know and join my fellow HOW alumni on team Mike? It’s better the Devil you know sometimes, right? Or is it out with the old and in with the new? Lee’s Best Alliance are causing a shit storm around this place and generating a lot of heat. So do I try something new? Do I risk teaming with four guys I don’t know? I do know the perks Lee Best can bring. But what’s Mike got to offer me? You listening fellas?
Sektor looks into the camera again.
Sektor: Which one of the Best family wants me more?
Blaire Moise: Well Dan Ryan, Cecilworth Farthington and Max Kael are all involved in huge title matches tonight. Could the winners of those affect your decision?
Sektor just smiles, starting to enjoy the sensation of curiosity growing.
Sektor: I doubt it, but we’ll see. I don’t know when I’ll know, Blaire. But as soon as my gut knows..
He pats his stomach.
Sektor: You’ll all know!
He gives Blaire a wink and then proceeds to walk back up the ramp. His music resumes before the scene cuts backstage.
We immediately switch over to a changing room. Evidently, Jonny O’Dell’s locker room as he sports a red and white sequin tracksuit. With the initials ‘J.O.’ stitched on the pectoral area of the jacket. Also, a whistle around his neck for good measure.
O’Dell paces around the empty locker room looking more like an actual football manager than pro wrestler. Also failing to mention that behind him stands a writing board.
On the writing board is a poorly sketched field and the name ‘O’Dell’ scribed in pen in every position on the field. Presumably, they’re tactics as he chews gum ready to address absolutely nobody.
O’Dell: Right lads, I’m expecting nothing but a win here tonight. Go out and play your natural game and the result will take care of itself.
O’Dell goes to the board for guidance.
O’Dell: Jonny I’m counting on you to make the difference tonight. You’re in good form but make sure you set the tone early on.
O’Dell flicks over the paper on the board and on the next bit of paper is a drawn on stick man… but with a big round belly.
O’Dell: They’ve always said the bigger they are the harder they fall. So make sure you fucking drop kick him in the fucking dick.
Jonny O’Dell pulls out a pen.
O’Dell: In this region here.
O’Dell circles the most tiniest drawn on penises ever created.
O’Dell: The fat git won’t be match fit so don’t be scared to dictate the tempo out there. Fucking lets stick to a pass and move game, yeah? And let’s get the fat cunt out early, yeah?
O’Dell simulates he’s passing an imaginary football and moves himself into space (signalling to receive the ball again).
O’Dell: Fucking War Games scouts will be out there so lets impress, yeah? And the fans.. it’s gunna be hostile. But just stick to the motherfucking game plan!
O’Dell then calmly stands on top of a changing bench in the middle of the room. He calmly holds his arms out wide and begins chanting:
O’DELL IS FUCKING MAGIC
HE WEARS A MAGIC HAT
HE COULD OF PLAYED FOR O-C-DUB
BUT HE SAID NO FUCK THAT
HE CHOSE TO PLAY FOR LEE BEST AND THE FAMOUS HIGH OCTANE FIGHT
AND WHEN I WIN WAR GAMES
I’LL SING THIS SONG ALL NIGHT
The scene fades with O’Dell becoming more and more animated. Jumping off of the changing bench and as he repeats the chorus, the writing board gets wrecked.
O’DELL IS FUCKING MAGIC
HE WEARS A MAGIC HAT—
As we come back from commercial Joe welcomes us back to ringside.
“World’s Greatest” by R. Kelly hits and the crowd immediately boos as “The Fabulous One” Jonny O’Dell makes his way onto the stage as Joe informs everyone that O’Dell has been trying to get clean as he is going to rehab sponsored by HOW and been working on getting back into ring shape while Benny said he looks like a hobo with his greasy beard and rundown attire.
O’Dell continues to slowly make his way to the ring irritating the fans showing off his round, pudgy body and telling the men their girlfriends and wives want to get with him and Benny makes a comment about O’Dell enjoying his unprotected sloppy seconds. Once inside, O’Dell feigns as if he’s going to moon the audience to show off his “toned” derrière as “You’re the Best” by Joe Esposito and the crowd immediately boos.
“YES! IT’S MIKE! HE’S HOPEFULLY GONNA FINE OR POSSIBLY FIRE THIS FUCK FOR TRYING TO BARE HIS ASS” can be heard from Benny, but it isn’t Michael Lee Best who comes out it is instead Robert Dean. “The fuck is this shit Hoffhole?!?!?!?” Benny shouts and Joe informs his partner that O’Dell is facing Dean and Benny goes on about Robert stealing Mike’s theme song as Dean stops at the end of the ramp to catch his breath.
“Come on fat ass we don’t have all night” is yelled by Benny as Robert using the barricade to hold himself up before stealing some Mike and Ike candies from a young man in the audience and the sugar rush seems to have energized the “Beautiful One” as he makes his way up the ring steps and steps waddles through the ropes only to get stuck. “Fat ass is stuck because he’s fat Hoffhole!” shouts Benny as Dean motions for Hortega to open the ropes for him and Joel opens the ropes and once Dean squeezes himself in the bell sounds.
O’Dell and the ever so jolly, Dean meet in the center of the ring and Jonny keeps trying to get Dean to look down as he is telling him something. Robert looks confused and Joe makes out what O’Dell is saying. “O’Dell is trying to tell Robert that his boots are untied” and Benny replies as only Benny can with “If that fat fuck believes that he’s more of an idiot than that bitch who doesn’t like wrestling promotions using 8×10 photos of their favorite wrestlers.”
Jonny keeps pressuring Robert to look down and Dean takes a slight glance down, but he can’t see passed his belly that full of jelly and O’Dell takes advantage with a quick rake of the eyes and the HOW Golden Era Original goes to whip the former LSD champion, but Robert goes nowhere. O’Dell tries once more but Robert gives Jonny that classic Kodak smile of his as he pulls him forward and O’Dell becomes trapped in the excess fat and cellulite of the “Beautiful One” and Dean executes a “belly to belly” suplex on O’Dell by simply falling forward.
Jonny is able to wiggle out of the cover using his newly found muscles, but Robert is still laying on him and with all his Herculean effort O’Dell cannot lift Robert Dean off of him and Benny tells Hoffman it’s going to be a long night and good thing he brought five bottles of Jack. As both men continue to lay on the mat Hortega begins his mandatory diez count.
“What the fuck is this idiot doing Hoffman?”
“Technically both men are down so he is counting them out.”
“Fat ass. DRINK!”
Robert notices he has to get to his feet so he slowly begins to roll off of O’Dell who gasps for air as the weight of Robert Dean has been lifted off of him. As Dean struggles to get up, O’Dell is already back up to his feet breaking the count of the referee and possibly Dean’s orbital bone as a knee goes into the former LSD champion’s face. Joe cringes a bit and tells everyone that it was a vicious strike while Benny salutes the brutality. Jonny begins to stomp away at Dean’s body and every strike causes Dean’s skin to jiggle. “I haven’t seen that much jiggling Hoffhole since Tara’s tig ole bitties!” Benny shouts as O’Dell makes his way to the front of Dean and begins to slap him and spewing vulgarities towards him. Robert gets to all fours and at that time O’Dell hawks a nasty loogie into the face of Dean and the usual joyful Dean’s demeanor suddenly changes as he reaches up and grabs him by the junk.
“I’m surprised O’Dell has anything there to squeeze. Drink!” Benny says as Joe says the good times are over with Robert Dean and he’s all business now. Hortega warns Dean to let go and Jonny begs him to let go as well as Dean tightens his grip and the “Beautiful One” mouths some not so beautiful language as he throws O’Dell into the corner and follows it up with a brisk walk splash. Robert mounts the bottom rope and begins to punch the head of O’Dell as the audience counts with Robert.
Hortega steps to the apron to tell Robert to get out of the corner which gives O’Dell the opportunity to give Dean a shot below the belt. The blow causes Dean to fall back onto the mat causing a small seismic tremor, but the force is enough to cause Joel Hortega to fly off of the apron onto the arena floor. “Wow! So that’s how he got over the wall! He can fucking fly! DRINK!” Benny says and Hoffman shakes his head as Jonny does drop flying of his own in the form of a fist drop. The Fabulous One puts the boots to Robert before jumping into the air and hitting an elbow drop. O’Dell then heads back towards the corner and climbs to the middle rope and takes his time to measure and show the crowd his “throbbing” bicep before jumping off to deliver another elbow drop.
However, there would be complications after takeoff as Robert is able to get a leg up and stun O’Dell giving Dean time to reach into his tights and pull out his Whatchamacallit…..not that you sick fucks his candy bar. As Dean shoves it into his mouth the sugar rush causes Dean to spaz out and rise to his feet. Robert kicks the downed O’Dell for good measure as he stands over him and pats his ass. However, before Dean can deliver his standing Banzai Drop O’Dell has been practicing his penalty kicks as he puts one in the net between Dean’s legs causing him to drop to all fours and The Fabulous One delivers The Fab Foot to the head of Dean. O’Dell sprawls into a cover as he sees Hortega climbing back into the ring.
The bell sounds and O’Dell is declared the victor. O’Dell continues to pose his “Flabulous” physique to the audience as the images cuts to backstage.
Backstage. HOW Hall of Famer John Sektor is standing in front of a coffee machine. He’s now showered and dressed following his match earlier in the night, sporting a pair of grey tailored pants and a white shirt with the buttons done up to the sternum. He carefully places some coins in the machine and presses a button. Nothing happens.
Sektor: What the Fff-come’on!
He begins pressing the button rapidly, growing more and more frustrated by the machines lack of activity. Eventually, he bangs on the side of it with the palm of his hand.
Sektor: Piece of fucking, shit, give me my damn coffee!
BANG!! BANG!! BANG!!
He hammers the machine and eventually lets out a deflated sigh.
Sektor: Unbelievable. This place can’t even get the coffee machines to work!
Unbeknownst to Sektor, he has drawn a crowd of one. The Best Alliance’s most DEFIANT member, Eric Dane, strolls up to Sektor’s side and gets a quick one-liner in before he can be noticed.
Dane: Something else in HOW not hacking it? Maybe Lee should bring one in from outside.
Sektor, initially, frowns but then the confused expression transforms into a smirk as he seems to recognize the voice of Dane.
Sektor: He could…
Sektor slowly turns to make eye contact with the Best Alliance man.
Sektor: Then again, there’s no guarantee that would work either.
The Only Star nods, smugly.
Sektor: Can’t believe it’s taken this long for us to bump into one another. But this is no coincidence, is it?
Dane: Are coincidences even a thing in HOW?
The Gold Stanard chuckles.
Sektor: Not really.
Eric takes over on the coffee machine, a dexterous few adjustments later and the mechanical vendor spits a cup down into its cradle and a fiery stream of java erupts from the nozzle above.
Dane: Huh, imagine that.
He winks, a sly grin forming at the corners of his mouth.
Dane: How the hell are ya, John? You look like shit.
The Hall of Famer hasn’t taken his eyes off the steaming cup of coffee, visibly aggrieved that Dane was able to achieve what he couldn’t.
Sektor picks up the coffee with a look of distaste on his mouth.
Sektor: I’m a little hurt by that comment, especially after I’ve been busting my ass to get back in shape. Guess I’m not there yet..ah, I won’t hold it against ya..
Sektor blows the steam over the top of the coffee, looking at Dane over the rim.
Sektor: Anyway, not to be rude, but I’m not in the mood for small talk. What can I do for you, Eric?
Dane: *ahem* My sources tell me you’re still on the fence about this little WarGames issue. Of course by [finger quotes] “my sources” I mean you. You’ve been riding the fence on this one like it’s the best piece of pussy you’ve ever had. What gives?
The Gold Standard half-sneers/half-snorts.
Sektor: It’s personal.
Dane: Fuck personal, this is business! You of all people goddamned fucking know what the Best Alliance can do for you, John. Just look at my team, look at Mike’s… come on man, he’s got Scottywood on purpose. Don’t let that old ego of yours get in the way of one last good run in the sun.
The Only Star extends a hand like an olive branch. Sektor smiles from ear to ear, arching back slightly and gesturing at Dane and laughing as he talks.
Sektor: Look at you. Fuck me, Lee has actually managed to turn you into a, white collar, company boy! Good for you, man..
Sektor looks down at Dane’s hand, realizing the olive branch is still lingering between himself and Eric Dane. He keeps the ‘shit-eating’ grin on his face as he continues.
Sektor: You understand, I still have a few hang-ups to work through before I shake that, right? First off, you and your three amigos are all tight as fuck. But I don’t know you guys from Adam. At least I know what I’m getting into with Mike’s team, IF, i was to choose his.. And also, you and I weren’t really singing off the same hymn sheet back in ole UTAH were we, buddy…
The Only Star retracts his hand. The mood dips ever so slightly.
Dane: Fair enough, John. But I want you to think back, long and hard, about Utah before you wind up saying something you can’t take back.
Sektor: Do you now?
Dane: I do. Specifically, I want you to remember just exactly what happened the last time that you and I were locked into a big ridiculous fucking cage. I want you to think real fuckin’ hard about how that whole thing went down.
The End Boss smirks.
Dane: See ya ‘round, kid.
Sektor raises an eyebrow at The Only Star only to meet a stern, disappointed gaze in return. Dane takes a sip from his own coffee and scoffs visibly as he turns his back on Sektor and fucks off right back to wherever it was that he came from. Sektor’s frown soon turns into a smirk as he sips his own coffee, before the scene cuts to commercial.
High Octane Radio returns tomorrow night!!
Immediately we pan backstage to Blair’s Moise standing looking around for her current guest. She looks confused before Zion passes nonchalantly across the screen. As Zion walks into frame, Blair’s thinks to herself fuck it: I need to fill time. She approaches Zion as he’s heading back to catering.
Blair Moise: Zion, Look I don’t typically ask you for favors, but our current guest is running late. Tell us how do you feel about getting left off the card? You’ve fallen more silent than usual and…
Before Blair finishes Zion rips the microphone out of Blair Moise’s hands. He stares a hole straight into her soul before she walks off. Heated, Zion speaks.
Darin Zion: Just like old times! I’m the damn welcoming mat around this company. I lose one match and I sit in catering like a good soldier waiting for the rest of the big boys to show me respect. I’ve played nice this time. I’ve shook everyone’s hands. I bust my ass and take dates to promote HOW outside of these walls. But I get told I’m not doing enough. I haven’t ever put 100% into HOW. Not like I helped keep the damn company alive when other people left for the mysterious lands of Utah.
Zion’s face turns bright red as the anger continues to consume him.
Darin Zion: I’m not allowed to feel either. I have to carry the bags; retrieve the catering, and be a good peon to earn my reputation back. I have to sell my soul for those. What do I get for that? Nothing! I don’t get a war games spot. I don’t get a world championship match. I get a pat on the head and a kick in the ass and sent on my way.
Zion shakes his head and looks around for a moment and thoughts begin to cross his mind. The frustrated kid who wanted to make a name for himself continued to show. Passion fills his eyes for the first time in a long time.
Darin Zion: Guess what? I’m tired of letting others define my destiny. I’m tired of people telling me my attitude keeps me out of War Games when I want to bring HOW back to the promised land. So I’m being selfish for a changed. It’s time to do something for me.
Zion pauses and stares directly at the camera with love and passion for this sport.
Darin Zion: I don’t care if I wasn’t the first damn pick or the last one or not picked at all for this round. I will enter that War Games match no matter what it costs me. Rather I bring my own army, rather I enter as a one man wrecking crew, or enter as a proud member of Mike or Lee’s team. Mark my words: I will be in this year War Games. And there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me.
Zion throws the microphone down and walks off. Blair Moise comes back into view shocked as the scene fades to the next match.
Joe Hoffman: Well up next we’ve got the returning Noah Hanson vs Scott Stevens in which case should prove to be another great match!
Benny Newell: You mean the returning nobody Hanson vs the returning after a month lonesome loser in Stevens? That’s how I interpret that buddy. More like a snooze match to me. I mean, why is Noah Hanson even back anyway? Didn’t he learn his lesson the first time?
Joe Hoffman: I don’t know, but he’s back now and hopefully this run can get Noah the respect he deserves. He is vastly underrated in my opinion.
Benny Newell: Well myself leading the charge on this opinion, with the rest of the roster, Hanson is wasting his time and he can’t be rated based off the shit I’ve seen from him!
Noah Hanson is already in the ring and awaiting Stevens arrival to the ring.
The lights in the arena go pitch black, as red lasers and spotlights light up the area as a guitar begins.
♫ “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage the Elephant♫
The video screen lights up and flashes across the screen a Texas flag, with the words, “Texas Born. Texas Bred.” “Texas Forever.“ branded into the flag. The cheers that had once filled the arena quickly turn into jeers. The crowd knows who is about to walk out and they are letting him know it by chanting his favorite chant as the final image that is displayed across the screen is a giant hand that slowly closes into a FIST as letters slowly appear and form a message and that message reads in bold, capitalized letters… SCOTT STEVENS.
Bryan McVay: From The Great State of Texas, weighing in at 256 pounds…SCOTT! STEEEEEEEVEEEEEEEENS!
The wait is finally over as a spotlight shines towards the top of the entrance ramp and Scott Stevens appears from behind the curtain, and as soon as he makes his way to the edge of the stage golden pyro begins to rain down behind him as he raises up his right fist high into the air. As Stevens makes his way down the ramp he just smirks and shakes his head at the vocal bashers.
Stevens slowly makes his way around the ring talking smack and flipping off the crowd until he reaches the nearest set of ring steps and proceeds to enter the ring. Once inside, Stevens goes to the nearest corner and ascends the ropes; looking out amongst the crowd before raising the two unofficial state birds of Texas before dropping to the canvas as a loud chant erupts from the crowd.
“FUCK YOU, STEVENS!” Clap x5
The Angry Texan shows no emotion as he stretches out on the ropes waiting for the bell to ring.
The bell rings as Stevens and Hanson meet each other in the center of the ring. Despite past differences, Stevens extends his hand out towards Noah and Noah looks on for a few minutes of hesitation before accepting as the two shake hands. The two circle around each other before locking up in a test of strength. Hanson is able to overpower Stevens after a few moments and strikes Stevens in the midsection as he’s able to grab Stevens and flip him over into a cradle suplex quickly.
Joe Hoffman: Great mutual respect to start off this match by Noah and Scott. Always nice to see some respect as it’s rarely seen in HOW anymore.
Benny Newell: Respect?! Stevens just doesn’t want to be seen anymore of a loser than he already is…which is fucking impossible. Once a lonesome loser, still a lonesome loser…ALWAYS a lonesome loser!
Stevens quickly kicks out as Noah tries to pull a fast one on Stevens. Stevens gets to his feet and smiles sarcastically, almost giving Noah credit for keeping Stevens on his feet. Noah smiles briefly, but continues his offense as he begins to unload on Stevens with a few straight rights to the face. Noah, in his return match in HOW, is keeping this match fast paced as he keeps the offense on his side.
Noah continues to unload into Stevens before he whips Stevens into the corner turnbuckle. As Stevens is backed into a corner, literally, Hanson continues, but changes up the tempo of the match by now hitting Stevens with some left and right combos before sending an overpowering right jab straight to Stevens’ chin. Noah then goes for a clothesline and connects with Stevens as Stevens falls forward on his face into the mat. Hanson once again goes for the cover.
Joe Hoffman: And Noah keeps on dictating the pace of this match and keeping Stevens on the tip of his toes! Noah looks actually excited to be back in a HOW ring as you can clearly see by the communication of his offense!
Benny Newell: Oh please…you, along with this match, is starting to make me sick! How long do you think before Noah goes back into irrelevancy again? How long do you think it will take for people to forget about Stevens even being here after tonight? Stevens will disappear for two months after tonight and hopefully the fucker won’t be back. Maybe both these guys can do me and all of HOW a favor by killing each other in the ring!
Noah is quick to get back to his feet as he bounces off the ropes and attempts to drop an elbow into the face of Stevens, but Stevens is able to move out of the way and pop back to his feet. Stevens ricochets off the ropes and comes back at Hanson, who gets to his feet just in time for Stevens to take him down to the mat with a lou thez press, and begins to unleash mounted punches into Hanson. This continues for a few moments, before Hanson all of a sudden reverses Stevens momentum and begins to unleash some mounted punches of his own. The two dabble back and forth as Stevens reverses again, this time starts to get more aggressive. The referee has to warn both men as they finally stop and get back to their feet. Hanson and Stevens look on and nod their heads as they continue to show respect for the others passion in the ring with the match.
Joe Hoffman: This match has turned into a straight up fight, but both men continue to show respect for one another.
Benny Newell: I swear to god if all this match is gonna be is punching each other in the face, I will fucking vomit all over my shit!
Hanson and Stevens lock back up again as they continue their volley of respect and passion in this match. Hanson attempts to use the same strategy he implored in the opening bout of this match by attempting to use the test of strength again, but Stevens surprises him this time as he delivers a knee to the chest before striking a remember the Alamo with a swift superkick that has Noah dazed and sent to the mat on his knee. Stevens takes advantage of Noah’s daze and runs at him landing a curb stomp that sends Hanson down to the mat. Stevens drops down for a cover.
Joe Hoffman: Oh, a close three count by Stevens! Noah just barely is able to kick out as he is able to come to his senses!
Benny Newell: Is it fucking possible to wish both these fuckers to lose? I mean, it’s almost a lose lose situation for me because I don’t give a fuck about either one of these men!
Stevens realizes how close he came right there and can’t believe he almost had the match won right there. With that strategy, Stevens attempts to look for the closing of the match by stalking Hanson as he slowly is able to get back to his feet. As Hanson gets to his feet, Stevens tries and surprises Hanson by going for the Toxic Sting. Hanson comes to his senses quickly and prevents Stevens from getting the strike on him. Hanson grabs Stevens and lifts Stevens up in the air as he is able to land a knee strike straight to the back of Stevens, stunning him in the process. Hanson then grabs Stevens by the back of the neck and sends Stevens face first onto the top turnbuckle rung, sending Stevens to the ground on his back. Stevens is dazed and Noah takes advantage by heading to the top rope quickly and dives off landing a perfect ladykiller on Stevens.
Joe Hoffman: Holy crap I don’t think Stevens knows what hit him!
Benny Newell: Oh fuck…my worst fears are coming true!! WHY?!
For good measure, Hanson ricochets off the ropes and is able to deliver an elbow drop on Stevens before picking him up and hitting a miraculous DDT sending Stevens buzzed even further by rolling Stevens up into a roll up locking Stevens shoulders into the mat.
Bryan McVay: Here is your winner…..NOOOAH….HAAAAAAAAAAANSON!!
Joe Hoffman: Oh my god that was amazing!! Great ring awareness from Hanson allowing him to pick up the victory over Stevens! I don’t think Stevens knows what happened!!
Benny Newell: Son of a bitch! I don’t care if that was creative or not…I can’t believe Noah scored the pinfall and won his return match in HOW!!
Stevens can’t believe it as Hanson’s hand is raised high in the air! He looks down at Stevens who is still in shock that he lost the match. Hanson waits for a few moments before extending his hand down helping Stevens back to his feet in which case Stevens finally accepts. The two shake hands as Noah nods his head before exiting the ring and heading to the back.
Joe Hoffman: It doesn’t matter how you feel about this match, Benny, that was a great show of respect by Hanson and Stevens. Hell of a bout!
Benny Newell: Oh fucking suck my cock Hoffman! Just goes to show you what kind of men Stevens and Hanson are!
Stevens shakes his head in disappointment as he tries and figures out what it’s going to take to win moving forward as we head backstage.
The broadcast switches backstage and picks up with those rascally, always over-easy, eGG Bandits.
Doozer and Jiles are huddled together in the middle of a long corridor, acting like they’re about to go for a Hail Mary to seal the comeback.
On their person, eggs.
Around them, eggs.
Loaded in launchers behind them serving as a reload volley, eggs.
In the vents stashed above them, eggs.
In the escape car idling in the parking lot in case it all goes horribly wrong, eggs.
Not just any regular eggs either. No. For the traitor now known as MISTER Robert Dean, The Bandits have selected the hollow points of the egging game.
The double yolk organic thick shell.
They’re only available online.
Dark web type shit.
Jiles: I’m gonna cover this traitorous tub of truffle-laced twinkies with yolk so thick he’ll look like a yellow Jabba the Hutt! I can hardly wait!
Doozer raises a finger, looking slightly concerned.
Jiles: I’ve even dislocated my throwing shoulder so I can snipe at Zion like speeds.
Doozer: Really? That’s a little messed up…
The trap is set. The butter roasted, mayonnaise and sourcream filled twinkies with the jimmies and truffle butter frosting have been strategically placed like dots on a Pac-Man board. Now all the Bandits can do is wait for Bobby to inhale the bait.
Doozer: Say Jiles, I’m curious as to how exactly we’re gonna know when he’s coming?
The Cool one calmly points to a cup of water on the ground.
Jiles: The tremors.
The Bobbanasaurus Dex.
Doozer: Okay, but won’t he see us by then? This is a long hallway and a horrible spot for an ambush if I’m being straight with ya.
Jiles: If we stay below his belly button level we’ll be in his blind spot. Plus, with the diabeetus he can hardly see anyway.
Doozer: Hm… checks out.
The COOLYMPIAN raises his pointer finger to his temple, signaling an active thought process kicking off.
Jiles: I’m more concerned about him smelling us. Hopefully the twinkies are sweet enough to keep him off our scent. If not, and we have to go Code: Hanson, be ready.
Doozer: Code Hanson?
The question gets answered quickly, sans emotion.
Jiles: Kill him.
A jurassic ripple from the water inside the cup.
COOL Cool Jiles cracks his knuckles then twists his head until his neck lets out a snap itself.
The Abuser of Doozing applies yolk black under his eyes.
Jiles: Here, here little Bobby Bisquik… come hither, you Judas blob… it’s time to take your traitor medicine…
Doozer: Shhhh, don’t scare him away before he can get stuck in the headlights.
Jiles: YOU SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
The Dooze violently cracks an egg in his hand in reaction.
Jiles: Dammet Doozer pull yourself together! I know you’re as mad at Bobby as I am but now is not the time to lose composure and start in-fighting!
The Dooze nods, wipes his hand clean, and grabs a new egg.
Bobby Dean: Oh look, another twinkie! What a co-twinkie-dink! HAR HAR! YUM YUM YUM YUM!
Jiles: HEY! ROBERT FATASS. It’s me! Who is “the stupid mother fucker” now?!?!?!
Shocked, Twinkie hanging halfway out his food hole, Robert hastilty (well, as hastily as a fat fucking slob can) shuffles backward.
The ensuing earthquake separates Florida from the rest of the United States.
Google maps hasn’t caught up yet.
Bobby Dean: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!
Jiles has a long, egg-launching utensil in his grasp and it’s pointed at the overweight ex-bandit. Think of a potato gun but, instead of potatoes, it shoots eggs. He goes to fire, and…
It would appear as if Jiles let The Dude pack his parachute.
Bobby Dean: Seems like you’re still shooting blanks, I hear there is a pill for that! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA–
While Bobby chuckles, Doozer winds up and fires. Bobby spins on a fat foot and, instead of dodging the egg, he stretches his mouth to King Hippo like proportions and engulfs it whole.
Doozer: What the fu-?
Bobby Dean: Only one!? Come on buddy, that’s not even enough for an appetizer!
The Dooze fires again. This time, Bobby closes his eyes while the egg soars in the air and uses his incredible sense of smell to locate and devour it with ease.
The Dooze’s jaw nearly hits the floor.
Doozer: Mother. Fucker.
The fat man winks.
Bobby Dean: Yes, indeed. And she was great, by the way. She loved AA-AAAALL of me… telling me how beauti—
Another egg goes airborne.
Four more follow rapid release style.
Bobby Dean: Poor, old Doozy. I hear with old age the pep in your step, or throw in this case, deteriorates. So you must be really fucking old! HAHAHAHAHAHA—
GULP TO THE TENTH POWER.
By now, Jiles has abandoned the gadgets and jumped into the fray.
His throwing arm is a blur.
The eggs are scrambling inside the palm of his hand– he’s throwing them that fast.
Not a single egg found its mark.
Bobby Dean: HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA! FIRE YOUR PUNY EGG CANNONS! I’M STILL HUNGRY!!!!!
Jiles is livid.
Doozer is baffled.
So, they fire the egg cannons.
Bobby Dean goes full out fat Matrix. Fatrix, if you will. He prances up the side of the wall, somehow, and then graciously falls backwards like an eagle crashing down towards the Earth. Instead of colliding with the ground and making a tunnel to China, he goes face first into the egg volley.
He swallows the barrage WHOLE.
DOZENS, and DOZENS OF EGGS.
He bounces off the floor, using his belly and chins three through five like natural flubber, and lands back on his feet.
A dust ball rolls across the pristine hall.
Bobby somehow eats that, too.
Jiles’ teeth are locked together. He looks like he could tear numerous pages out of a phonebook at once. Doozer scratches his head, looking for an answer as if he didn’t know what year it was…
Bobby Dean: Why don’t you just give up already. Haven’t we proven by now, that I put the eGG in eGG Bandits? Look at my shape, even! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a bu—
The Dooze winds up, saving his vaunted, never miss, egg knuckle curve for his final toss. It goes up. Then down. Then… Bobby reacts! BUT TOO LATE?!?
The Dooze smiles.
Doozer: Got him.
But, he didn’t.
Bobby, at the last second, reaches out and snatches Doozer’s egg just before impact. Then, for emphasis, he decides to eat it the old fashioned way. You know, because Doozer is an old fashioned type of guy. From Boston. Yawn.
Bobby Dean: Well, Coolidiot? What do you say? Are you ready to walk away yet? Have you seen enough?
Jiles slyly smiles. He begins to loft an egg to himself, acting as if he’s had the upper hand all along.
Jiles: What if this whole thing was a ploy to get you to stand right where you are standing at this very moment, Mister Robert Dean? What if we wanted you, right where you are quaking? Too full of egg to move with a fraction of your normal sloth-like speed.
Frantically, Bobby looks down and tries to find the X underneaty his feet. It takes a while for him to perform such a … feat… and while he is doing so, Jiles zooms in and closes the distance between them.
A wide eyed Bobby Dean quickly lifts his head, all the while praying to the Buddha of Baking Goods that he can control the newly born turtleheads suckling from the teet of his hemorrhoids.
Jiles: Oh look…
Blankly, Bobby stargazes back at himself through the mirror tint of Jiles’ sunglasses.
Jiles: You got a little…
Calmly, Jiles wipes some yolk from Robert’s face.
Bobby Dean: Are we going to fuck now?
Jiles: No, Mister Dean. This is when I egg you.
Bobby Dean: You’ve trie–
Jiles reaches out and thunder slaps Bobby Dean clean across his fat, traitorous face.
In the palm of Jiles’ hand, a double yolk.
There is no celebration however.
No DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD.
Just Bobby standing there with a lone egg splattered across his face.
Jiles walks by him, not happy with how it all went down. Doozer turns and leaves behind the mess for the next guy.
CUT TO COMMERCIAL……
Joe welcomes us back from commercial as Benny preps his Best Alliance flask for the next match which pits The Best Alliance’s Lindsay Troy and the HOW debut of MJ Flair facing off against the man who made it to the finals of the World Title Tourney Brian Hollywood and the also debuting Jace Savage.
“Goodnight” by The Birthday Massacre
The lights dim as the music builds. MJ Flair walks out with purpose, stopping right at the top of the ramp and she soaks in her HOW debut for a moment before she heads to the ring. A few outstretched hands are slapped, but for the most part, she remains focused.
Benny touts the huge free agent signing that Lee made in Flair and he can’t wait to see the latest Best Alliance member in action tonight.
The opening clap-stomp beats of “Watch Me” by The Phantoms hit the speakers as the fans in the Yuengling Center jump to their feet. They roar their approval for the hometown favorite and wait for Lindsay Troy to step through the curtain.
Again Benny touts the Best Alliance and states how Troy is now 3-1 in her HOW career and is going to add another W to her column tonight.
“My Time” by Fabulous hits after a few seconds Jace Savage comes out excited hyping the crowd up. Pointing to his wrist as if he was wearing a wrist watch, then points to himself as he makes his way to the ring.
Joe talks about how Jace Savage will have a huge opportunity here tonight against two big up and coming HOW stars as he teams with a former HOW World champion. Benny states how he is already the best Jace that HOW has ever seen. He then goes to say how Pete Davidson would also be the best… but he is cut off by the final entrance.
“Perfect Insanity” by Disturbed blares over the PA. A black limo pulls out slowly from the back on the side of the ramp. The driver steps out of the limo and walks to the back. The driver opens up the back door and out comes Mr. Executive himself, Brian Hollywood.
Benny is surprised that Hollywood found his way out of his mansion while Joe states that Hollywood will be looking for retribution after losing the HOW World Title that he never lost to Halitosis. Benny says that makes no sense and takes his first shot of Jack as the bell rings to start this tag team match.
Hollywood and Troy start things off as they lock up as Hollywood backs Troy up to a neutral corner and as the referee Joel Hortega calls for a break Hollywood drives a knee to the gut of Troy. Troy stumbles out of the corner and Hollywood grabs a handful of Troy’s hair and slams her pulls her back slamming her down to the mat. Hollwyood drops an elbow as he starts raining punches on Troy who starts fighting back and catches Hollywood with a stiff elbow. Both get back to their knees as Troy pops up and connects with a step up enziguri. Troy pulls Hollywood back to his feet and goes for a DDT but Hollywood reverses it and Troy is sent flying with a back body drop.
Benny is still cursing about the hair pull and how that is no way to be treating a woman as Joe just stares at Benny with a puzzled look wondering if it’s actually Benny Newell at ringside.
Hollywood pulls Troy by her hair again but this time to her feet as he whips her into his corner and tags in Jace Savage. Making his HOW debut, Savage starts driving his shoulder into the mid section of Troy over and over until Hortega has to pull him away and nearly DQs the team. Savage then whips Troy into the ropes and nails a big spinebuster in the middle of the ring as he goes for the cover.
Troy kicks out as Savage stays right on her with a knee bar locked in as Troy ries to reach out towards the ropes and Flair but is dead center in the ring. But as the crowd starts clapping, Troy is able to drag herself closer and closer to the ropes as she reaches out and grabs them. Savage gets up and starts stomping away at Troy, again using the full cinco count from Hortega. On the apron, Troy tries to crawl over to Flair, but Savage charges and baseball slides Troy out of the ring. Savage stands up on the apron as Troy pulls herself to her feet and Savage hits a hurricanranna from the apron to the outside as the crowd pops for the big move as both are laid out and Hortega starts his ten count… or whatever it is in Spanish.
The point is he never gets to ten, so we’ll never know what it is in Spanish as Savage throws Troy back into the right at ocho and stalks Troy as she gets back up to her feet and goes for a big spear but Troy side steps and Savage hits the ring post hard. Troy starts to stumble over for a tag but we see Hollywood charge into the ring and nail Troy with a lariat. Flair tries to come in to the ring too but Hortega stops her. Hollywood picks Troy up in a front face lock to go for the Paper Cut but Troy connects with a low blow.
Benny roars and says Hollywood just got what he deserved for being in the ring illegally and Troy may have taken a note or two from Lee Best tonight. Hollywood drops to the mat and rolls out of the ring as Savage goes after Troy who goes for her own superick but Savage catches the leg and Troy counters with another enziguri as Savage and Troy both fall to the mat.. Troy tries to pull herself to her corner as the crowd is roaring and Flair has her arm out as far as it can.
Joe comments how Flair is absolutely itching to get into the ring as Troy jumps and makes the tag and Flair explodes into the ring as Savage gets back to his feet with no one to tag as Hollywood is still down. Flair nails Savage with a flying forearm which seems to only graze Savage who has seventy five pounds on Flair. But Flair quickly starts with some quick kicks to the knees of Savage who swings at Flair with a wild right that misses as Flair ducks that and another wild left. Another kick to the knee and then Flair delivers her own superkick to the jar of Savage that rocks him.
Joe comments that Flair is using her speed to try and mitigate the size difference between herself and Savage as Flair hits the ropes and nails a running dropkick to the jar of Savage that takes him off his feet. Flair makes her way to the top rope and launches off with an elbow drop to the heart to Savage as she goes for her first cover in HOW…
Savage kicks out, throwing Flair off him as he gets back to his feet and Flair nails a kick to the side of Savage’s head that drops him back to one knee as Flair continues with kick after kick to Savage. Again Hollywood charges into the ring to attack Flair with a Executive Promise superkick but Flair ducks it and Hollywood runs right into a pair of flying knees from Troy. Savage pops back up to his feet and nails Troy with a jumping punch to the face that sends her flying back out of the ring. Savage again falls to a knee as he lands and that opens the door for Flair to grabs savage in a reverse face lock and plants him with an inverted DDT.
Benny yells out The Morning Star! The Morning Star as Flair hooks Savages leg and Hortega slides in for the count.
DING DING DING
Bryan McVay announces Flair and Troy the winners as crowd erupts as Flair throws her arms up in victory for the first time in her debut match. Troy rolls back into the ring holding her jaw as Hortega raises both woman’s arms and you can feel Lee Best smiling backstage as we cut away from ringside.
As we go backstage we see Scott Stevens walking with a look of frustration and disappointment on his face as he walks over to an ice chest and pulls out a sparkling water and before he can open it Producer Nate walks into view.
Producer Nate: Tough loss, but you’ll bounce back.
Nate says as he pats the Texan on the back and as he turns he begins to whistle that tune by the Little River Band causing Steven to snap. Stevens takes the water bottle and uses to to smack Nate in the back of the head causing the producer to stumble to the floor. Stevens grabs Nate by his head and tosses him against the concrete wall. Nate cries out in pain as he holds his back and Stevens quickly grabs the producer and delivers a vicious spike piledriver onto the concrete floor. Stevens stares at Nate before continuing his walk down the backstage hallways and stops to pick up a steel pipe before continuing his journey.
Benny Newell: What the fuck Hoffman?!?!?!?
Joe Hoffman: Looks like Stevens reached his breaking point Benny.
Benny Newell: It took this to break him when the tampon didn’t?
Stevens continues his trek before stopping to observe a couple of ring crew technicians getting something ready for later tonight. Stevens tightens his grip on the pipe a he makes his way over he waits for one of the technicians to turn around before he swings for the fences knocking the first one out cold and before the other can realize what has transpired he takes a shot to the gut. Stevens stalks the guy crawling on the floor before wailing on his back with the pipe. Once satisfied, Stevens tosses the pipe to the ground and continues walking.
Benny Newell: We need the cops Hoffman! We need them now!
Joe Hoffman: I don’t think I’ve ever seen this side of Stevens ever Benny.
Benny Newell: The dude is fucking scaring me Hoffman and I don’t scare easily.
Two members of arena security confront the Texan to try and get him to stop but the former World Champion isn’t listening or doesn’t take as he immediately attacks the two men and looks like a vicious animal ripping into the flesh of it’s dinner as Stevens beats the Holy Hell out of the two men and a small splatter of blood hits the Texan’s face. Stevens hawks a loogie on both men before continuing his walk and after about thirty seconds he comes to a stop and off in the distance we see Noah Hanson talking with Blaire Moise.
Joe Hoffman: This isn’t going to end well.
Benny Newell: No shit Hoffhole!
Stevens stares daggers into Noah as he gazes from a far before he slowly makes his way over to the man who beat him. Noah and Blaire are in deep conversation as the two don’t notice Stevens until it’s too late as Blaire lets out a blood curling scream as Stevens blindsides Noah and delivers right hands to the face of Hanson and doesn’t let up. Stevens continues to pound Noah’s face until blood begins to appear and once he sees it, it is like a feeding frenzy as it just seems to drive him even more as he continues punching Hanson until his face is covered in blood. Once Hanson’s face is the proverbial crimson mask Stevens gets up and lets out a yell of frustration.
Scott Stevens: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK!!!!!!!!!!!
Stevens yells as he looks toward the ceiling.
Scott Stevens: I CAN’T DO NOTHING RIGHT!
The Texan says as he drives a boot to the face of Hanson.
Scott Stevens: WAS SUPPOSED TO PROVE MYSELF!
Stevens shouts as he kicks Hanson once again.
Scott Stevens: WAS SUPPOSED TO WIN!
Stevens delivers another kick.
Scott Stevens: WAS SUPPOSED TO GO TO WAR GAMES!
And another before the image turns sideways from a Stevens superkick.
Benny Newell: The fuck just happened?!?!?!?
Stevens picks up the camera and he’s breathing heavily as the lens starts to fog.
Scott Stevens: This is not what was supposed to happen here tonight. I was supposed to win apparently that didn’t happen.
Stevens says as he wipes the spit flying from his mouth.
Scott Stevens: What is going to happen is that I will be at War Games.
Stevens says as Benny and Joe look at each other with confused looks.
Scott Stevens: Yeah, you heard me right Douche Bag and Cue-Ball. I will be at War Games competing for the World title and how are you going to stop me?
Stevens asks with a smirk.
Scott Stevens: You going to fire me? That’s fine; I’ll buy a ticket and show up with my money made from my OCW contract. You going to suspend me and keep me at home? I’ll buy a ticket and show up with the money your paying me.
Stevens says with a smirk.
Scott Stevens: Regardless of how you want to play this I will be at War Games one way or another and you and your team members can’t stop me and you fucking know it!
Stevens says bluntly as he drops the camera and the image fades to commercial.
Joe Hoffman: We’re on the road to War Games, folks, and tonight’s ICON Title match is up next. Dan Ryan and the Best Alliance have been on a tear recently, and it could all culminate with a title win for Lee Best’s chosen War Games crew here tonight. Cecilworth Farthington, the self-proclaimed “longest reigning ICON Champion of all time”, is going to have to pull out all the stops here if he wants to walk out with his championship.
Benny Newell: This is a no brainer, Hoffman. Lee Best hand selected the best team that outsourcing could buy for War Games, and it’s no wonder! CJAAAAAAYF has been walking around promoting fucking OCW for months, and Max Kael wants to destroy his loving father’s company? Get the FUCK out of here, you traitors. LET’S GO DIAPER TERMINATOR!
Joe Hoffman: Call him that to his face, Benny. I dare you.
Benny Newell: Fuck you, Joe. He’ll murder me.
“Zero” by Smashing Pumpkins begins to blast over the speakers of the Yuengling Arena in Tampa, as the lights go out and a dual-spotlight makes an encircling pattern on the entrance area. When the riff audio kicks it up a notch, Dan Ryan steps out and pauses, looking into the audience, then heads down the aisle as pyro blasts behind him.
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 slowly takes his corner, watching the entrance way.
Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan is a newcomer to HOW, but don’t let that fool you into thinking he’s a rookie. One of the most decorated wrestlers in recent history, Dan is also the holder of the CWF World Championship, the same company where Lindsay Troy is the Paramount Champion. The Best Alliance might not be a traditional one, but it is a TALENTED one.
Benny Newell: Let’s see Cecilworth JAAAAAAAAAAAY Farthington “cool” his way out of this. Dirk Dickwood cant talk you through a title match, dickhead, come out here and get your fucking face smashed!
“Money” by The Flying Lizards beckons forth the Double Belt Prince known as Cecilworth Farthington, attired with the finest of towels draped across his neck and one belt on each of his shoulders– the HOW ICON Championship on the left, and the OCW Paradigm Championship on the right. He stretches out his arms and spins around on the ramp, making his way confidently down to the ring and smiling arrogantly at Dan Ryan in the ring.
Joe Hoffman: It’s hard to discount the talent of Cecilworth Farthington– in addition to the HOW ICON Championship, he’s the OCW Paradigm Champion and a dominant force in both HOTv companies. Dan Ryan knows not to underestimate this man, given their history, but I think the Farthington he’s standing across from is a much scarier animal than the one he knew all those years ago.
Benny Newell: An animal? Sure, a DEAD HORSE. And Dan Ryan is about to beat it senseless.
Cecilworth leaps up on the ring apron and looks out into a very unimpressed audience, before turning around and ducking under the ropes into the ring. He carefully hands off his championships to referee Matt Boetther, telling him not to “ruin the belt with his Poor hands”, before taking his corner and awaiting the start of the match.
Matt Boettcher gives the belts to Bryan McVay, before ringing the bell to begin the match.
DING DING DING
The crowd is hot right out of the gate, as Dan Ryan and Cecilworth M. Farthington step out of their respective corners and move toward the center of the ring. Dan shoots in with a heavy right hand lined up, but Farthington quickly steps backward and points to his skull, yelling “I AM TOO SMART A BOY FOR YOUR SHENANIGANS, DANIEL!”
Dan grits his teeth, charging in again with a big right, this time reaching to make the connection for sure, but Farthington dips with the strike, ducking around it and taunting his opponent.
Joe Hoffman: Farthington perhaps proving to be a more unique opponent than the kind of people Dan Ryan is used to fighting, Benny.
Benny Newell: Yeah, a fucking moron.
Not wasting any more time with CMF’s bullshit, Dan Ryan takes a two step running start and collides with the ICON Champion, throwing his whole weight behind the lariat! Farthington is knocked back into the ropes, the momentum taking him over the top and to the floor below!
Benny Newell: If this was the ICON Battle Royal, Dan just became the fucking champ. I say it counts!
Dan ducks through the ropes, properly frustrated with having to chase Cecilworth yet again, though this time it’s by his own doing. Matt Boettcher does what he’s technically paid to do, beginning the ten count in the ring.
Dan drop to the floor, as Cecilworth scrambles to get to his feet. He’s clearly rattled from his fall out of the ring, and he grabs the guardrail to pull himself up.
Dan Ryan isn’t finished with his prey, bringing a pair of ham fists down onto CMF’s back with an axehandle. He follows up with a knee strike to the ribs, putting Cecilworth back down on the concrete.
Joe Hoffman: This ICON Championship match is already getting out of hand, Benny. These two have hardly been in the ring four minutes and this is already becoming more of a street fight than a wrestling match.
Benny Newell: KILL THAT TEA DRINKING OCW TRAITOR, DAN. DO IT FOR LEE. DO IT FOR AMERICA!
Dan grabs hold of Cecilworth Farthington’s hair, “helping” him get to his feet as he starts to drag the champion over to the ring post.
But Farthington elbows him in the gut! The ICON Champion shoves the challenger backward, getting some space between them, before lunging forward with a flying European uppercut that staggers Dan!
Farthington lays some big chops into Ryan, walking him backwards as they battle it out beside the ring apron. After a quick boot to the gut, and some strain to lift the big man, CMF carries Dan Ryan over his head with a snap suplex to the exposed concrete floor, as the crowd winces along!
Joe Hoffman: Oh, BIG IMPACT there! Both men are hurting after that one, but Dan Ryan definitely took it the hardest.
Benny Newell: THAT’S ILLEGAL.
Both men writhe on the floor, but obviously Farthington is the first to begin to climb to his feet. He grabs the apron, pulling himself up, but Dan isn’t far behind.
Farthington rushes forward with a running knee, trying to collide with Dan’s head, but Dan is already just barely standing and it collides awkwardly with his midsection– Dan catches him, locking his knee and taking him over with a powerslam onto the concrete!
Dan staggers back up, slowly, and realizing the count is getting close. He makes his way toward the apron, but quickly realizes that he can’t win the championship from a count out.
Benny Newell: GET BACK DOWN THERE DAN! ROLL HIM INTO THE RING!
Shaking his head, Dan turns around in his tracks and grabs CMF under the arms, hoisting him in a feat of strength and lifting his dead weight to his feet. Farthington begins to shake off the cobs, though, and fights him off, stumbling forward.
Dan Ryan: Get back in the ring you fucking idiot!
Dan slaps Farthington in the side of the head, pulling him toward the apron. Cecilworth pulls away, slapping Dan in the BACK of his head and yelling back at him.
CMF: IT’S THE SHITTY DEATHMATCH COMPANY DANIEL, WE AREN’T GONNA GET COUNTED OUT AND IT IS STUPID THAT WE EVEN STILL PRETEND TO HAVE THIS RULE.
Dan lets out a snarl, grabbing Farthington by the arm and whipping him hard into the apron. Farthington stumbles in the recoil, and Dan has had enough. He grabs CMF in beale toss formation, getting ready to throw the champion under the ropes and continue this match in the–
DING DING DING
A nearly deafening silence fills the arena, with confused fans wondering what in the hell has just happened. There has never been a count out in a championship match in HOW history, and this information is almost not processing in the minds of the fans.
Or the two wrestlers outside.
Both Dan Ryan and Cecilworth Farthington look shocked, but Dan Ryan looks fucking ANGRY. He takes a step toward Farthington, who only shrugs back as if to say “I don’t fuckin’ know, man, I can’t believe it either.”
Benny Newell: What… what the fuck just happened, Joe? WHAT HAPPENED?!
Joe Hoffman: The thing that happens when you don’t answer a ten count, Benny. Matt Boettcher did his job and counted them out!
Benny Newell: But… but this is HOW. No one ever gets counted out.
Joe Hoffman: No one has ever missed the ten count, I guess. It’s clearly in the rules. Cecilworth Farthington is going to retain his championship on a technicality, folks– this match is a draw!
Dan Ryan is incensed, feeling as though he’s just been screwed by the champion, even though it was really a matter of bad time management all around. He lunges toward Farthington, but Cecilworth isn’t stupid– the match is over, and he quickly scurries off to grab his championships and get the hell out of there.
Bryan McVay: Ladies and gentlemen, the result of this match, by count out… is a DRAW!!
Boos fill the arena, with fans literally throwing trash into the ring as Farthington scurries back up the ramp, looking confused by relieved. A very angry Dan Ryan puts his hands on his hips, shaking his head as Friday Night Refueled cuts elsewhere and we all know it wont be long until we hear from the Best Family regarding this finish!!
Blair Moise, High Octane Wrestling’s backstage reporter, walks into Halitosis’s dressing room looking for a comment from the HOW World Champion before his first title defense.
She finds Halitosis with his noxious drink (safely inside a lead-lined container) sitting at the back of the dressing room.
Blair is greeted by the two scriptwriters and Cue-Card guy. Blair turns to Matt the Manager who quickly hides the shooter glass he’s been drinking heavily from.
Blair Moise: Can I get a couple words from Halitosis before your match?
Halitosis nods yes.
Blair Moise: Do you have any comment on what the Best Alliance said earlier tonight.
Halitosis shakes his head no. He opens up the lead lined container and starts to gulp down the drink.
Cue-Card guy positions himself in front of Matt and points to the top line on the cue-card.
Matt the Manager: Well Blair, as you can see, Halitosis’s full and complete focus is on defending the HOW World Title against Max Kael tonight.
Blair Moise: Any comment or thoughts about War Games? Are you thinking about War Games?
Halitosis shakes his head no while continuing to drink the concoction.
Matt reads from the second cue-card.
Matt the Manager: Blair, he’s shutting all the background noise else out. He’s not letting anything or anyone else interfere in his pre-match preparation. Nothing else matters except successfully defending the HOW World Title against Max Kael tonight.
Blair Moise: Okay. Let’s talk about Max Kael. This is your first title defense. How do you feel going into the match?
Halitosis finishes the drink and puts the container down on the bench next to him. He gives Blair a thumb’s up.
Matt tries to read from the third cue-card. But he has trouble focusing so he leans in closer and squints his eyes. Still not focusing well.
Finally, he just blurts out something.
Matt the Manager: That’s right Blair. Halitosis’s main focus is his match with Max tonight. Nothing else.
Both scriptwriters look at Cue-Card guy. Cue-Card guy looks down at the cue-card. That’s not what it says.
Blair Moise: All right. Well Joe and Benny, it looks like Halitosis is focused like a laser beam on his opponent Max Kael tonight. That’s all from the champion’s dressing room. Time for another commercial break.
(Halitosis vs. Florence Kearsey)
[Halitosis leaps off the top turnbuckle and does a swan dive, waits until the last moment to flip and impacts Florence Kearsey with upper back/shoulders. He hooks the legs for the win.]
Announcer: They said he couldn’t do it.
(Halitosis vs. David Black)
[Another high-angle senton bomb lands squarely on David Black. In one motion, Halitosis hooks the legs with his hand and the referee counts to three.]
Announcer: In fact, not only did they say he couldn’t do it, they said he had no business doing it.
(Halitosis vs. Scottywood)
[After nuking Scottywood with his breath, Halitosis ascends to the top rope and stands high above the turnbuckle like he’s the King of Mountain and delivers a beautiful high angle senton bomb. The luchador quickly makes a cover and Hortega counts to tres.]
Announcer: They said a two star talent who’d only wrestled in the lower levels of the pro wrestling world couldn’t come to HOW and win the World title with just hard work, drive, and determination…
(Halitosis vs. Max Kael)
[Max wraps his arms and legs around Halitosis in a crucifix pin and pins.]
[Halitosis rotates and shifts his weight, reversing the pin on Max.]
[DING DING DING!]
Announcer: But yet, show after show he kept winning matches…
(Halitosis vs. Brian Hollywood)
[…Halitosis and Hollywood run at each other. The two men both go for spears, cracking their heads.]
[Both men stagger and slump to the mat…]
[…Halitosis lands on top of Hollywood.]
[Referee Matt Boettcher makes the count.]
[DING DING DING]
Announcer: …five matches in four shows to win the HOW World Title tournament…
[Ring announcer Brian McVay stands in the middle of the ring.]
[Brian McVay: HERE IS YOUR WINNER… AND NEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW HOW WORLD CHAMPION…… HALLLLITOOOOOOSISSSSSSSSSSSSSS!]
Announcer: Okay, we’ll stop.
[The new HOW World Champion rolls to his knees, staring at the title cradled in his hands, and, to a massive cheer, he raises it above his head.]
Announcer: Just kidding. We’re not going to stop.
Announcer: Not sorry. Reese’s.
Back live and Refueled cuts to the back once more but this time we find ourself in the shared office of HOW’s MOGUL Mike Best alongside the GOD, Lee Best. Mike is not in the office, he is probably dusting off his many leather bound books at this particular moment in time. Lee is looking down at what can be assumed to be important paperwork when the sound of the door slamming open is heard.
That was the sound of the door slamming open to be clear. We just establish it but I wanted to be clear.
Lee is about to raise his head but out of the corner of his eye he spots Dirk Dickwood and current ICON Champion, Cecilworth M! Farthington sauntering in and walking straight up to the glorious mahogany desk. Given the clientele joining him, he continues to shuffle his papers and refuses to lift his head. He drops his pen to the ground and keeps his head down to look for it as the joyful looking duo shimmy in. Cecilworth pulls out a party popper from the back of his trunks and pops it, the confetti shoots out, some of it gently landing on the gleaming bald head of Lee Best. Despite this irritating tomfoolery, Lee continues to shuffle his papers. Best clears his throat, picks up a second pen and continues to do his business things. Cecilworth drops the belt on the desk as begins to raise both his hands above his head, clapping with glee.
Farthington: CELEBRATE GOOD TIMES, COME ON!
Cecilworth claps in glee almost directly into the face of the GOD of HOW.
Farthington: Come on Leecifur, you’re really dampening the party spirits right now. Join in, have a good time, the best boy retained! I’m still Farthy Two Belts, this is a wonderful moment.
A man dressed in the finest butler wear a local Party City could stalk enters the room with a bottle of champagne over ice sitting atop a fine silver tray. Cecilworth pops the cork and begins to top up his flute as Dirk leans in close to Lee.
Dickwood: Ah, you big bald headed fuckwit, you really thought you were doing a number on my boy didn’t ya? I mean, this whole quote unquote murders row you assembled, they fell at the first hurdle. It’s so sad, it’s too bad. Oh, we’re going to have the world’s biggest circlejerk in the middle of the ring to start the show and talk about how ROUGH, TOUGH AND READY TO TUMBLE we are. Oh ole CMF, he’s a real walkover. Big Scary Dan, he will totally EM DEE KAY him and breeze to the ICON championship.
Cecilworth hands a flute over to Lee, Lee doesn’t respond…
Dickwood: I think you forgot something you One Eyed Willy Fuckwagon, this ain’t twenty oh nine, this ain’t nineteen ninety nine . These fossils you’ve dug up… they were something, they were SUCH BIG DEALS when CMF was a rookie. Yet, as we’ve seen, age is a bit of a struggle, Dan’s melting old man legs couldn’t quite get back in the ring in time could they? This is twenty nineteen, the landscape has changed. The man you seem to want to fuck over at every turn, the man who kindly just offered you a lovely glass of champagne, he’s got a future in this industry. He is the future of this industry. He’s the HOW ICON Champion, he’s the OCW Paradigm Championship, these are real factual accomplishments. So cling on to the past BIG BOY, cling on to the fossils and the child that managed to slither out of one of their fossil friend’s gaping man vaginas.
Cecilworth goes in to cheers his glass with Lee, Lee continues to be unresponsive to what is happening around him.
Farthington: We thought you might be a bit down, surely a spirit will cheer up your spirits! If you won’t drink it, let me shower you with joy!
Cecilworth begins to shake up the bottle and aims it in the direct of Lee, just as he’s about to release his thumb, Lee sticks his head up and points to the door, just like the week prior.
Lee Best: Next show.
Dickwood rolls his eyes so far, so hard, they do a full 360.
Dickwood: This shit again? Oh no, what Big Bad Bestiality Alliance shitehawk are you throwing our way now? Is it Dane? I hope it’s Dane, after all of the unspeakable things he’s done to my beautiful boy’s father…
Into the room storms a rather pissed off looking Dan Ryan, cutting off another mention of support of Eric Dane, probably.
Dickwood: No, no, no. He had his shot, he’s done. That’s the rules of this place. He came at the king and he missed.
Ryan begins to lunge towards the champagne guzzling Farthington while Lee looks up and produces a very self satisfied smirk.
Lee Best: Next show… ICON Championship… no fucking count outs…no fucking DQ’s…STEEL CAGE!
As Ryan goes for Farthington, Farthington slips through and slides out of the room. Dirk Dickwood quickly snatches the ICON Championship off the desk and scrambles out of the room too, looking none too pleased leaving a smirking Lee Best and a very very pissed off Dan Ryan.
Tomorrow on the HOR…..the return of Best Bets
Back live and the screen opens with a montage of car crashes and wreckage. A voice is heard over the images and video.
“In an instant, a peaceful moment can become a landscape of chaos and pain. In a single moment full hearts and picture perfect smiles become haunting memories.”
The collection of destruction fades into a young man, with messy and tangled shoulder length hair and a missing incisor, sits perched on a chair like a bird of prey.
“All it will take for unadulterated joy to be twisted into a demented moment of true brutality… All it will take to morph happiness and warmth into destruction and pain… Is one sudden Crash.”
The man rises and is standing on the chair. As he elevates he spreads his arm out, that invokes imagery of Jesus on the cross.
“Soon. The stains here at High Octane Wrestling will have their happy days transform and mutate into a lifetime of misery. They will understand my words to be an ugly truth. For I shall show them first hand of what I speak. FOR I SHALL BE THEIR CRASH!”
The man returns to original position calmly, albeit almost too calmly, given his recent scream. A crooked smile fills his lips.
“I shall be the moment to change it all.”
The camera fades to black, and abruptly a sickening car crash fills the void, at high decibel as we see the words Crash Rodriguez: #RefueledVI before cutting away
We cut back to Lee’s office where we now see the Father and Son of all things High Octane discussing what just went down with the ICON Championship.
Lee Best: Look…..I HATE a fucking count out. I HATE a fucking draw in a title match. I had no choice Son and I get your personal bias but….
Michael Best: Look….DAD…..I take ALL bias out of this when it comes to my staffing role here in High Octane Wrestling. I appreciate you bringing me more into the loop here in HOW AND allowing me to collect gold in all the other sandboxes in HOTV but…
Lee Best: LOOK….SON……the ICON rematch is happening. That’s it. First match with a stipulation since the restart and a steel cage will make sure there are no count outs and no bullshit. Here….you are not going to change my mind…..so go head…..book something….announce something. Get the final word.
Michael looks at his Father knowing damn well he is not about to get the final word but he has to take advantage of the opportunity while the door is open.
Michael Best: Well since you got one over on me with the Flair signing DAD….congrats on that one…..let me make my next choice?
Lee just smiles and nods.
Michael Best: I am doubling back on my ORIGINAL selection and I am selecting Halitosis for my squad at War Games. He deserves it…..win or lose.
Lee just smiles and nods in approval.
Lee Best: And you get the World Champion on your squad no matter what after tonight…….my GOD Son are you a chip off the old block.
Michael just shrugs as if he has no idea what Lee means but smirks as he stands up, pats the old man on the shoulder and heads for the door.
Michael Best: I gotta get on the road literally as soon as the Main Event ends. I will take the ICON Champion with me….hes need a good time after that steel cage announcement.
Lee again nods as Michael opens the door….and as he does we see the Egg Bandits waiting to enter……Michael looks back at Lee who nods for them to enter and with that the Son of HOWrestling exits.
Lee motions for the two men to take a seat.
Lee Best: This is a one way conversation motherfuckers. If you EVER EVER EVER EVER…..and I mean EVER….take up that much time on my fucking network again with your fucking Egg show…..I swear to God I will send you back to the land of irrelevancy in a fucking heartbeat. Do not say anything….just nod.
Jiles and Doozer just look at each other, both trying not to laugh, and nod that they understand.
Lee Best: Good. NOW for why I called you in here. Both of you will be competing at War Games…and before you get your panties in a bunch it is not in the Main Event. Instead you two will be competing as a team in a Tag Team Title match…..thats right….the Tag Titles are coming back and you two are the first team to be announced.
Jiles and Doozer are doing everything they can to keep quiet as they do not want Lee to change his mind by pissing him off.
Lee Best: This is not a normal Tag Title Match however. One belt will be hanging above each ring at War Games and the only way to become the first Tag Champions of the Refueled Era is by grabbing BOTH Titles hanging. Understand?
Both Jiles and Doozer nod and are smiling from ear to ear at the historic announcement.
Lee Best: Good….now get the fuck out of here…….and oh next week…..both of you get another shot at a segment on the show…..in the ring….to hype this match. DO. NOT. LET. ME. DOWN.
With that Lee waves the two men off and as they exit, Lee looks up and just smiles as we fade out.
Its MAIN EVENT TIME!!!
War Games Match for the World and ICON Championships
The Best Alliance (Eric Dane, Lindsay Troy, Dan Ryan, MJ Flair, ?? vs. The eMpire (Farthington©, Max Kael, Scottywood, Halitosis©, ??)
Tag Team Title Match with the titles hanging from War Games Cage above each ring
The Egg Bandits vs. ??
As we come back from the last commercial break of the evening we see the Hall of Fame team ready for the next highly anticipated match up.
Joe Hoffman: Welcome back ladies and gentlemen, to our Main Event of the evening as we have Halitosis defending his newly won World championship against former champion, Max Kael.
Benny Newell: This match shouldn’t even be happing Joe has Max should’ve won the tournament in the first place.
Joe Hoffman: Regardless, Max earned this championship opportunity when he defeated Scottywood in a number one contenders match, and we learned just before the commercial that Mike Best has picked Halitosis to be a member of his War Games team.
Benny Newell: A smart plan indeed Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: How so?
Benny Newell: Mike is making sure the world title stays on his team. Win, lose, or draw the World Champion is on Team Mike Best.
The stage lights darken as a single spot like shines down on the entrance. The proper and noble notes of “Prelude to the Te Deum” by Marc-Antoine Charpentier fills the arena, a step away from the harder, more aggressive wrestling music. Prancing out onto the stage is a young man in his late teens with flowing brunette hair and an outlandishly ornate medieval style outfit holding a banner emblazoned with Max’s smile face set onto black background. The crowd seems confused though there is a mild cheer for Max’s face though it is contested by a low rumbling of boos.
The music dies down as the youthful man pulls a microphone from a hidden pocket on his tunic, lifting it to thin, delicate lips.
Herald Farthington-Primrose: Human garbage lend me your ears!
If there was any cheering happening before the petulant tone of the young man’s voice screeched out over the speakers it was completely gone. Boos immediately began to grumble up from the audience though the Herald does not seem to notice.
Herald Fathington-Primrose: I am Sub-Marquis Bentley Tennyson Farthington-Primrose, the Herald to the Prime Minister of Maxopotamia, the Lord of Kaelsalvania, the Right and Ruthless Maximillian Kael, First of his Name! Long May He MAIM!
He offers a low, overly exaggerated bow to the crowd though they seem no more impressed then they were earlier. Again their negative reaction to him seems to have little effect as he raises once again, his chipper smile unbroken.
Herald Fatherington-Primrose: I come here tonight to offer the High Octane Wrestling World Champion, Halitosis, the chance to forfeit! To abandon this pointless display and simply hand over the World Title to Maximillian Kael in order to spare himself, his family and his friend or possibly friends in a more optimistic world, the pain and suffering the Sovereign of Seriousness is most likely to inflict! Give up! Accept my Lord’s mercy and enjoy another day unmaimed or grotesquely disfigured!
The Herald’s voice carries over the arena with a piercing, demanding tone to which the fans answer with more boos. “Shut the Fuck Up” chants begin to gain steam as the Herald simply stands on the stage with a stupid, dumb grin on his face waiting for any sign that Halitosis might surrender here tonight. Seconds are drawn out as the crowd’s grumbling boos slowly bleed into Halitosis cheers. Bentley’s expression sours as he receives no answer and is left looking rather silly standing out on the stage alone.
Herald Farthington-Primrose: Fine.. FINE! Have it your way Halitosis but don’t ever say that Maximillian Kael didn’t give you a chance! BRING OUT THE GONG OF DISMAY!
From the entrance a small tech crew wheel out a massive bronze gong which is emblazoned with Max’s scowling, sour face. Bentley is handed a massive mallet which looks comically awkward in his weak, soft hands. Struggling with the long hammer the distant cousin of CM!F manages to lift it up and bring it crashing down over the center of the gong.
The lights immediately die out as the fans let out a collective cheer, a weird bit of wrestling fandom that remains constant in most cases. “The Funerals/Jen’s Journey” by Trevor Jones breaks out over the P.A. system, a deeply dramatic blaring of organs and trumpets squashing the sounds of fans reaction. Suddenly the stage lights up bright red and dark blue lasers as a tall, familiar figure slinks out of the shadows and onto the stage called forth by the sound of the Gong of Dismay.
Despite all the pomp and circumstance of walking out to an exciting laser light show backed by the Skeksist music the Dark Crystal Soundtrack Max looks completely out of place. He is dressed in a black monogrammed tracksuit, the kind of one you’d expect a lazy Russian mob boss to wear while grabbing fast food. Even as the Herald screeches a steady stream of “HAIL KAEL” into the microphone he still has a white knuckle grip on Max doesn’t seem overly excited.
He looks angry. And disgruntled and generally like this is all very much a bother. Sulking down toward the ring Max casts his blue eye over the crowd while the music is crushes out the boos and jeers that might be cast in his direction. The Herald follows behind the Prime Minister of Maxopotamia continuing to spew his “HAIL KAEL” nonsense while Max slowly ascends the stairs at the corner of the ring.
The music slowly dies as the house lights return to normal. The Herald continues to scream into the microphone prompting Max to reach out and snatch it away from him, kill the power to it while screaming something negative toward Bentley.
Finally, slinking toward the center of the ring Max, bathed in the red smiley face, lifts his hands high into the air as he is bathed in the sinister red light of the smiley face while his herald cheers him on.
“Mas Tequila” by Sammy Hagar hits the arena and the fans begin to cheer as they know who is coming out. First out, Matt the Sports Entertainment Manager with his cue-card guy who holds up a huge sign that says World Champion on it and his writers who update his script as they walk down to the ring throwing Reese’s Peanut Butter candies to the audience.
Joe Hoffman: Halitosis’ managers and handlers all have had a hand in helping him on his historic Cinderella run.
Benny Newell: All good things must come to an end and this fairy tail won’t have a happy ending when Max gets down with him.
Halitosis walks out on the ramp with a strange greenish haze emitting from his mouth but more importantly the #97 Red color strap around his waist.
Joe Hoffman: The first World Champion of the Refueled Era is set to make his first defense of his championship.
Benny Newell: First and last.
Halitosis pumps his first in the air and then starts down the ramp towards the ring. He slap people’s hands along the way and then says hello to a young fan in the front row- the fan promptly collapses when he get a whiff of his breath. Halitosis then moves on to the next one. He says hello. The fan gets a blast of his breath and falls to the ground. He continues on to greet the fans along the way- oblivious to the carnage he leaves behind.
Benny Newell: See that Hoffman? You want this guy to be your champion when people pass out every time they get near him?
Halitosis reaches the ring area and continues to greet people around the front row. Again, they all pass out once they get downwind of his breath and soon, the scene looks like a set of dominos falling over as he goes around the perimeter. He climbs up on the ring apron and leaps over the top rope into the ring.
Halitosis hands the belt to Matt Boettcher and Bryan McVay begins the introductions.
Bryan McVay: Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the Main Event of the evening set for one fall with a thirty minute time limit. Standing to my left.
McVay points to his left, but Max’s herald has other plans as he takes the microphone away from McVay.
Sub-Marquis Bentley Tennyson Farthington-Primrose: Only I can announce Mi’Lord.
McVay throws his hands up as the herald clears his throat.
Sub-Marquis Bentley Tennyson Farthington-Primrose: Introducing first, From Arkham, Massachusetts…standing 6’4 and weighing in at 236lbs… He is a former WarGames winner, HOW Grandslam Champion holding the World, ICON, LSD, and Tag, a two time LBI winner and the only multiple winner of it and most importantly, a HOW Hall of Famer! He is The Prime Minister of Maxopotamia, the High Octane Ambassador, the Lord of Kaelsavania, Founding Member of the eMpire, Co-Commander of Team Mike Best, Paragon of the Squared Circle. The Elegant and Educated, The Wise and Wily, The Righteous and Relentless, The Practical and Potent, The Lovely and Lethal, The Wicked and Winning, Lord Maximillian Kael, First Of His Name, Long May He Maim!
The crowd boos louder than before as Kael displays that sinister grin of his and does a royal wave as Bentley tosses the microphone to McVay and mouths beat that.
Joe Hoffman: You think that could’ve been any longer?
Benny Newell: I’m about to fucking punch you in the throat Hoffhole.
McVay turns to his right.
Bryan McVay: And his opponent, hailing from the Island of Misfit Wrestlers and weighing in tonight at one hundred seventy pounds, he is THE REIGNING! DEFENDING! UNDISPUTED! WORLD CHAMPION OF HIGH OCTANE WRESTLING! He is the ‘Luchador with Insanely Poor Oral Hygiene.’ Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you- HALITOSIS!
The crowd cheers as Halitosis raises his hand to the delight of the crowd.
Bryan McVay: The man in charge is Senior Official, Matt Boettcher.
Boettcher holds the World championship up for the world to see before folding it up and handing it to McVay.
Once the announcer is out of the ring, Matt checks both individuals and calls for the bell.
Joe Hoffman: And here we go…..
As the two individuals come out of their respective corners and to the center of the ring they begin to circle one another cautiously out of respect for each other and not wanting to make the first mistake. The Hall of Famer makes the first move as he goes to grab the champion the luchador side steps out of the way and proceeds to try to grab Max in retaliation, but the Wily One uses his titanium implant to headbutt the champion back a bit. Halitosis quickly recovers and sees the sinister grin of Max Kael from across the ring as the audience gives them a round of applause.
Joe Hoffman: The audience showing their respect for these two individuals here tonight.
Benny Newell: Why not…..DRINK!
Benny shouts as he salutes the two competitors battling for the biggest prize in HOW and in all of wrestling. Max and Halitosis meet once again at center ring and lock up. Halitosis uses his speed to take Max and lock in an armbar.
Joe Hoffman: Nice arm drag into the armbar by Halitosis.
Boettcher asks if Max wants to quit but the Grandslam champion says no. Max tries to reach up and grab the mask of Halitosis, but the champion moves his head and begins to pound on the shoulder and neck of Max. Halitosis doesn’t let Max breathe as the luchador brings his opponent to face down on the canvas as he still has control of the arm and bars it with his legs as he reaches over for the other arm and Max tries to fight but the champion shows some aggression as he beats on his opponent until he grabs the other arm.
Joe Hoffman: Rings of Saturn submission by Halitosis and I’m surprised by this strategy Benny. Halitosis is known more for his speed and high-flying than his technical skills.
Benny Newell: Max game planned for that so being HOW World Champion you would have to know that and bring a different strategy.
Joe Hoffman: That was a really good comment.
Benny Newell: I have my moments and besides you actually think that piss poor move is going to hurt Max? Dude’s a fucking cyborg. Lee’s built him to be faster, stronger, and Bester!
Max writhes in pain as he inches his body closer and closer to the ropes and as he does his herald places his hand on the bottom rope. Bentley notices that Boettcher is not looking and pushes in the bottom rope allowing Max to wrap his feet around it and yes for the official to break the hold.
Joe Hoffman: Come on!
Benny Newell: Alls fair in bitches and hoes. DRINK!
Joe Hoffman: What?!?!?
Halitosis is forced to break the hold and he has words with Boettcher because he saw Bentley push the ropes but Boettcher is not having it and as soon as the luchador turns around he is drilled in the face with a spinning forearm.
Joe Hoffman: Kael with The Gaslighter and Halitosis is stunned.
Benny Newell: He may be stunned but I’m getting drunk!
Max follows the attack with a clothesline and the champion pops up immediately only for Kael to knock him back down. The Paragon of the Squared Circle mounts Halitosis and rains down rights and lefts as the luchador does his best to cover up. Max slowly raises his right hand and makes a fist and brings it down only to stop short of connecting for him to cause the champion to open up his defense and allow the Lovely and Lethal teeth to sink into Halitosis’ nose.
Joe Hoffman: Max using those teeth to his advantage showing his sadistic side.
Benny Newell: He can Minister out anytime Hoffman.
Max quits biting before Boettcher reaches the count of five and Max smiles and a thin red tint glistening off of them.
Joe Hoffman: Looks like Max has drawn first blood.
Benny Newell: Great movie. DRINK!
Max drives his ocular implant into the face of Halitosis and quickly goes for a cover.
Max picks up Halitosis and goes to whip him but the luchador reverses it and Bentley doesn’t see who’s approaching as he is yelling at the crowd just reaches in and trips his Lord.
Benny Newell: What the fuck is that idiot doing?!?!?!?
Max begins yelling at his herald and Bentley goes ghost white seeing his mistake and Halitosis is waiting for his opponent to turn around.
Joe Hoffman: LETHAL BREATH OF DEATH!
Benny Newell: I’M GONNA PUKE!
Halitosis lets out his deadly breath as Max gags for air and the champion quickly grabs the challenger and rolls him up.
Joe Hoffman: Small package!
Benny Newell: Bullshit!
Max is able to kickout by the skin of his fucking teeth!
Benny Newell: YES!
Joe Hoffman: That was a close call! Halitosis almost had it there following the mistake of Max’s Herald….Bentley.
Benny Newell: No shit.
Halitosis seeing Max hasn’t fully recovered steps out onto the apron and waits for him to stand up and face his way and win he does he launches himself.
Joe Hoffman: Springboard forearm by the champion.
Halitosis continues his assault as he builds up momentum and delivers a flipping senton splash. Cover.
Halitosis uses his speed once more and hits a springboard leg drop. Cover.
Halitosis drags Max to his feet and whips him into the ropes and bends down to deliver a backbody drop but Max has other ideas first comes the face buster and then a swinging neck breaker. Herald Bentley yells for his Lord to get up, both champion and challenger lay on the canvas and Boettcher begins his count.
Max begins to crawl towards Halitosis.
Max drapes an arm on top of the champion.
Halitosis with the shoulder up.
Both men get to their feet and are exhausted by the heavy breathing but they don’t stop as they trade rights with one another.
Joe Hoffman: Both men are giving it their all here tonight.
Halitosis goes for a haymaker but Max sidesteps him and locks in a forgotten submission hold.
Joe Hoffman: THE J.S.P!
Max locks in the Million Dollar Dream and Halitosis tries to fight it off.
Joe Hoffman: Max digging down deep into that bag of tricks of his.
Benny Newell: Whatever it takes Hoffman.
The force of Halitosis’ fighting causes Max’s momentum to move him forward and closer to the corner.
Joe Hoffman: Can Halitosis make it to the ropes?
Halitosis makes it to the ropes but instead of waiting for the official to break the hold the luchador uses his speed to climb up the turnbuckle and flip backwards onto Max.
Max is able to pop out at the last instant and sends Halitosis to the canvas after a stiff lariat.
Joe Hoffman: Halitosis almost won it there again.
Benny Newell: I think I pissed myself a little.
Max doesn’t waste any time has he quickly grabs the luchador and places him begin his legs. Max smiles devilishly as he reaches and delivers a massive Tiger Driver.
Joe Hoffman: MAXIMUM KAELNAGE! THAT’S GOTTA BE IT!
Max quickly goes into the cover.
Halitosis gets his foot on the bottom rope and the crowd goes ballistic.
Benny Newell: WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!? THAT WAS THREE BITCHER!!!!!!!
Max can’t believe it and goes to pick up Halitosis but is driven face first from a pop up cutter. Halitosis musters enough strength to pull himself up to his feet and make his way over to the ropes and slowly climbs to the top.
Joe Hoffman: The champion looking to finish it here with that high angle Senton Bomb of his.
Benny Newell: Someone do something!
As if on command Herald Bentley hops onto the apron and begins yelling at him but Halitosis blows the herald a kiss and Bentley falls to the ground gasping for air. Halitosis regains his balance and leaps off.
Joe Hoffman: HE MISSED! MAX ROLLED OUT OF THE WAY!
Halitosis crashes and burns and with both men down Boettcher begins his count.
Benny Newell: God dammit! I’m out of Jack! Good thing I got this Coke though. SNORT!
Both men begin to stir.
Both men get to all fours.
Both men get to their feet in time and begin trading rights.
Joe Hoffman: Both men are leaving it in the ring tonight.
Halitosis delivers a right that staggers Max who uses his momentum from hitting the ropes and delivers a massive headbutt to Halitosis sending the champion backwards. Max goes to grab the luchador, but Halitosis swats away his hands and delivers some bad news……more like bad breath.
Benny Newell: Not that shit again!
Max staggers back towards his corner and Halitosis grabs him and rolls him up.
Joe Hoffman: Small package once again by Halitosis.
Herald Bentley pops up and sees Boettcher out of position and pushes on the men, helping Max to roll over and reverse the small package…….
As Boettcher’s hand hits the mat for the third time Halitosis kicks out literally .25 seconds too late.
The official calls for the bell and Halitosis sits there in shock as Herald Bentley comes sliding into the ring with the HOW World Championship and a microphone.
Sub-Marquis Bentley Tennyson Farthington-Primrose: Your winner…..AND NEW HOW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LORD MAXIMMILLIAN KAEL, FIRST OF HIS NAME, LONG MAY HE MAIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Max snatches his newly won prize from his herald and thrusts it into the air as Halitosis is on the outside looking in with his head hung low as the HOTv quickly comes on the screen as we fade to black…….someone in the truck was not happy about this result.
The Yuengling Center.
It’s later, how much later is unknown. The exact location is one of the cordoned off parking garages near the loading docks. Very few people are out here loitering about in this particular area, the reason why is anybody’s guess.
The World Champion is here. Standing slightly behind Kael and to his left is Bentley, carefully and proudly cradling the gleaming HOW World Title on a plush red pillow with golden trim.
Also here is the now former Champion and newest member of Michael Lee Best’s eMpire WarGames team, the masked Halitosis. Mike himself and the ICON Champion Cecilworth Farthington are nowhere to be found, long gone to do whatever it is that best boys do to take the sting off of Lee’s booking.
The air around the two opponents-turned-teammates is somewhat thick, one never does know just exactly what to expect from the Prime Member of Maxopotamia (Long May He Maim) and Halitosis is always a wildcard. It doesn’t take long for something to happen.
“Hey!” A familiar voice exclaims. “Yeah, you, ugly motherfucker with the eye!”
The voice belongs to Eric Dane. The Only Star is walking toward them, gone is his blazer and scarf, the cuff-links are out and have been stuffed into the bottom of luggage bag somewhere with his watch. Currently, sleeves are being rolled and an eager smirk sits mockingly on his face.
Eric Dane: I see you took that belt off the breath guy, just like I asked.
Dane smirks. A murderous sneer curls onto Kael’s face as he begins to stalk in Dane’s direction. The area between the two notorious fighters is rapidly depleting. A split second before the World Champion meets The Only Star for a good old fashioned parking lot brawl there is a loud shattering crash behind him. Reflexively Kael turns, the sneer never leaving his face.
What he finds is Dan Ryan looming over the the mess that is The Luchador with the Insanely Poor Hygiene hanging half in and half out of the back window of a nearby black Lincoln Navigator. Glass is everywhere, and The Ego Buster turns his own murderous gaze on Kael just in time to see Eric Dane launch at him with his braced knee extended, nailing the champion in the back of the head with a mind-erasing Starbreaker!
The Ego Buster smiles and turns his eyes on Bentley.
Dan Ryan: And what do we have here?
The Herald to the Prime Minister shrieks like a terrified banshee but he doesn’t move, scared into paralysis by the idea of the hulking colossus that is Dan Ryan coming another inch closer to him.
Dan Ryan: Boo.
A healthy sense of self-preservation jumpstarts Bentley and he turns and bolts in the opposite direction. He drops the pillow in his panic but manages to keep the world title belt squarely in his grasp. Dan chuckles and turns back to Eric Dane who is now squatting next to the downed World Champion. Dan calls out.
Dan Ryan: What do you think? Hospital visit? Or hospital stay?
It’s The Only Star’s turn to chuckle. He stands.
Eric Dane: Neither. Tonight is Lesson One: Consequences.
Dan Ryan: Oh? Consequences for what?
The End Boss shrugs.
Eric Dane: Speaking out of turn.
The Best Alliance members nod in agreement and together they turn and leave the World Champion laying in the middle of the parking lot. Just as he begins to show signs of life the HOTv logo shows in the corner of the screen and everything goes black as once again The Best Alliance soften up their War Games opponents.