All Shitty Streaks Must Come to and End!

All Shitty Streaks Must Come to and End!

Posted on December 3, 2020 at 11:21 am by John Sektor

“I smoke cigars by the your homework properly.” – John Sektor


The Tag Team champions stepped out of the elevator, Jatt smiling from ear to ear as he proudly carried his half of the championships over his shoulder whilst his own person bellboy, The Switch, carried his bags. Sektor, on the other hand, appears grey, breathing heavily as he lugs his own bags down the hall towards his hotel room. Tiny beads of sweat glisten on his forehead as his eyes have a panicked look about them. His heart pounded, his chest hurt, his breathing felt heavy and tight. 

Jatt Starr: Just keep’s getting better and better, doesn’t it? 

Jatt refers to the successful run the two of them are having as the hottest team in wrestling. They had just come from the latest Refueled where the Best Alliance had yet again reigned supreme in the main event as Jatt was able to pick up a win over Doozer and Dan Ryan, with the help of Mike Best. Sektor ignored Jatt, eyes solely focussed on reaching his room as blind, irrational panic began to set in. Eventually he stopped outside a door and began fumbling for his key card with a trembling hand. Jatt watched this with a semi-concerned look. 

Jatt Starr: You, okay man? 

Sektor gasped as he finally found his card and pressed it against the receiver, sighing in relief as it lit up green. 

Sektor: I’m fine, just exhausted..

His words were almost breathless as they collapsed out of his mouth. 

Sektor: I’ll catch you at breakfast. 

He was already half way into his room as he said this final farewell, slamming the door shut and leaving his partner in the corridor without remorse. His bag dropped off his shoulder without care and the other half of the tag titles fell with it. He paced around the room, hyperventilating and holding his chest, his eyes desperately seeking answers. The blood pounded in his ears. His heart thudded in his chest. His hands shook. His feet tingled. His vision disfigured, as though he were looking through a fish-eyed lens. He didn’t know what to do. He felt trapped. His skin flushed and his throat began to tighten as he wrestled the collar of his shirt open in an attempt to ease his breathing. 

 Finally he collapsed his hands on a chair, leaning over it to try and catch his breath. The whole world began to spiral out of control. He couldn’t do anything. It wasn’t a heart attack. It was nothing physical, save for the symptoms he was suffering. It was completely irrational. Without restraint, he proceeded to sob helplessly, tears flooding the chair beneath him as loud and helpless moans echo around the room. 


Monday, November 30th

A Few Miles off the Coat of Miami


Jatt Starr: Gotta hand it to ya, John boy, you sure know how to relax. 

The Tag champs are on board Sektor’s personal fishing boat, ‘el Estándar de oro.’ It’s a small vessel with a deck big enough to hold no more than half a dozen people. Currently occupying it are Jatt, Sektor and four girls clad in Bikini, freezing their nipples off in the sharp, sea air. Jatt is laid on his back, sipping a bloody mary which has a piece of celery ridiculously poking out of the top of it. One of the girls, a brunette, is working on his feet. Sektor is in a similar position, laid on a padded seat with an ‘old fashioned’ in his hand, twirling it around so that the ice makes a beautiful and refreshing clinking noise in the glass. A red head is leaning down next to him, holding a bunch of grapes up for him and dangling it above his face. He reaches up with his mouth and she teases him with them, lifting them higher and causing them to tickle the bristles of his prized moustache. 

Sektor: ..tease. 

She smirks as she allows him to take a bite. These girls are far too young and beautiful to be hanging around with these battered and weather, middle aged men. There is almost certainly a service being utilised as the two Tag Team champions relax out at sea. 

Sektor: Ahhh, this is just what I needed Jatt. A bit of R’n’R before we prepare for Iconic. 

Jatt Starr: Yes indeed. Beats having to defend the titles against the old Hag and Old has-been. Speaking of which, did Lee mention the reason for the pivot? 

Sektor shrugs his mouth following a sip of the bourbon cocktail. 

Sektor: Nah. Lee doesn’t mention anything to me these days. Anyway, let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth, we got time off to relax and prepare for our matches at Iconic. Which, in your case, is now an LSD championship match you lucky bastard!

Sektor half smirks, but there’s a certain level of envy in his eyes as glances at him out the corner of his eye. Sektor turns to the girl and looks her in the eye before down at his lap. 

Sektor: C’mon Mamma. Pappa’s cold, come warm his lap. 

Sektor is slightly more dressed than the girls, wearing white pants and flip flops with an open, colorful, shirt. The red head swings a toned leg over his lap and shimmys into it, draping resting her elbow on his shoulder. The Gold Standard then accidentally-on-purpous spills some of his drink over her breast which causes her to gasp as the cold hits her already chilled flesh. 

Jatt wretches slightly as he notices his partner burying his moustahe in the bust of the young escort, neither man noticing The Switch clambering out of the cockpit with a cell phone in his hand. 

Switch: Uhm, John?

Sektor’s head snaps up from the bosom of the red head and holds up a telling finger as the Switch stands behind him. 

Switch: Sorry, CAPTAIN! There’s a telephone call for you..

Sektor appears deeply confused by this notion. 

Sektor: How is that possible? I turned my phone off! Jatt, please tell me you did the same and you’re not about to ruin this trip? I told you how much I need this..

Switch: Captain, this is my phone. Mr Maurako, somehow, got my number. 

Jatt grits his teeth together and tries to shuffle himself into his seat so that it can swallow him up. Sektor, noticing this, shakes his head as he takes a deep breath and lets out a frustrated sigh. 

Sektor: Give me the fucking phone!

The Switch looms over Sektor’s shoulder and hands him the phone which is quickly snatched from his grasp. 

Sektor: Hold this for me, would ya darlin’. 

Sektor hits the speakerphone button and hands the phone to the red head, relaxing his head back against the seat. 

Sektor: What do you want? 

Mario: Sek, where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for two days!

Sektor: When someone turns off their phone? It usually means they don’t want to be disturbed. 

Mario: Yeah? Well you don’t have that luxury, John. You work, not only for HOW, but for the Best Alliance. 

Sektor curls his lip, clearly taking exception at being spoke to in this way. 

Sektor: I don’t like your tone right now, Mi Amigo. 

Mario: Yeah? Well when you have an angry blind man screaming, WHERE THE FUCK IS JOHN SEKTOR…in your ear every five seconds? It kind of gets your blood boiling. 

Its clear that beneath his dark sunglasses he’s rolling his eyes in a nonchalant fashion. 

Sektor: What’s up with the old bastard now?

 Mario: He needs you to wrestle this week, John. Are you aware you’re booked? 

Sektor chuckles to himself. 

Sektor: What? No way. The fuck I need to wrestle for? You said the Tag Title match is off. 

Mario: It is. You got a singles match instead. 

Sektor: What? Against who? 

Sektor takes a sip of his old fashioned, beginning to feel a familiar tightness in his chest. 

Mario: Steve Harrison..

The bourbon spurts out of his mouth instantly as he hears that name, covering the red head and causing her to shriek in horror. Her woe’s are made worse as the Gold Standard shoves her off his lap and onto the deck. 

Sektor: WHAT? The fuck are you talking about? 

Mario: Look, the card for the go home show is falling apart. Lee needs a big match and it’s you vs Harrison. 

Sektor: Fuck that, I’m not doing it!

He’s up on his feet at this point, snatching the phone out of the hand of the red head and pacing around the deck like a stressed out tiger, whilst Jatt watches from the rim of his bloody Mary.

Mario: What do you mean, you’re not doing it? Of course you are, you don’t get a say in the matter.

Sektor grits his teeth together, clearly boiling at this point. 

Sektor: Why’s he doing this to me? 

Mario: Doing what? John, you’re..

Sektor: He there right now? Put him on the phone!

Mario: He’s not here. 

Sektor: Right, well I’m coming down there then!

Sektor ends the call and launches the phone overboard and into the sea. 


He shrieks with anger before resting over the stern of the boat, breathing heavily and staring into the crystal blue waters, as though he just wants to jump in and allow it to swallow him up.

Jatt Starr: Way to help the planet, John..

Sektor slowly turns his head to look at his partner, giving him a look that says ‘one more word!” Jatt sucks on the straw of the bloody Mary which is now sucking up the dregs and making an awful slurping sound. The Gold Standard storms his way towards the cockpit of the boat, climbing a small ladder and poking his head into the cabin. 

Sektor: Turn us around and get us back to port. 

The Twitch gawks at him blankly. 

Sektor: VAMOS!

The Switch makes a salute gesture and begins turning the wheel. 

The Switch: Aye-aye, captain.

As the boat begins to turn, the Gold Stand turns around and plants his hands behind his head, grabbing a thick clump of it between his fingers and gripping it tight. 

The Switch: Can I have my phone back?



Tuesday, December 1st

The Best Arena, Chicago IL


The Gold Standard storms his way through the area, the top office the only thing in his sights. His face is stern, his heart pounding, as stress hormones turn his blood to poison. He stops outside the office of Lee Best and takes a moment to compose himself. Angry or not, he knew if he didn’t choose his words carefully in the presence of God, there would be nothing but bad things in store for him. He rubs a hand over his face and moustache, puffing out his cheeks as he slowly reaches up with a clenched fist, giving the door a firm knock, careful not to make it seem antagonising. 

The door opens and the huge frame of the retired veteran, Mario Maurako, fills the gap. Mario appears calm, well used to Sektor’s temper after years of teaming together with the BA and AOA.

Sektor: C’mon, Mario quit fucking around. I’ve come to see the boss not his bitch. Let me in.

Mario sighs and raises his eyebrows, not seeming to take any real offense. 

Mario: You’ve had a wasted trip, amigo. He’s not here. 

Mario smiles as Sektor’s brow tightens, causing deep creases to form on his forehead. 

Mario: If you hadn’t hung up on me I could have told you as much over the phone. 

Sektor: Where the fuck is he then? Get him on the phone, he needs to change this match!

Mario: Why? What’s the problem? 

Sektor holds his hands up, looking aghast as to why he seems to be the only person understanding why this match is ‘bullshit,’ as he would say. 

Sektor: Mario, he can’t just spring a match like this one me. The guy is undefeated. He is actually capable of beating me. Do you understand? Lee gives me almost two fucking months to prepare for a deadbeat like High Flyer, and about five minutes to prepare for a man who has yet to be beaten here in HOW. On what fucking planet does that make sense?

Mario: Sek..

Mario tries to place a hand on Sektor’s shoulder, but the Tag champion bats it away with a certain degree of venom. 

Mario: Sek, the go home show needs a big match. Did you not hear what Lee said after last weeks show? 

Sektor: No, I was too busy on my boat with Jatt, waiting to get my dick sucked! Not by Jatt!

He holds up a hand as he corrects himself. 

Mario: Well, first of all you shouldn’t have assumed that just because your tag title defence was cancelled that you get another week off. So I’m guessing you didn’t hear about Dooze? 

Sektor shrugs.

Mario: He’s out! Lee cut him for not pulling his weight. 

Sektor: He did? Well, fuck’im. He was useless anyway. 

Mario: That being said, Lee isn’t fucking around. Last week Jatt and Solex did their part for the Alliance and the company. This week? It’s your turn to pull your weight and sell this fucking show, which right now without your name on the card? Look’s pathetic. 

Sektor shakes his head, clearly not buying it. 

Sektor: I don’t care. I have no time to prepare for a match like this. I’m sick to death of these fucking assignments. I took out Dane. I won the Tag titles. I’m going to beat Fyler. Now I have to try and end Harrisons streak too? The fuck is in all of this for me, huh? I’m not interested in no High Octane Fighting bullshit after Iconic. I’m a fucking wrestler dammit! What, the fuck, is in this for ME? 

Mario just laughs. 

Mario: This isn’t about you. Let’s not forget John that when you won War Games you dropped the ball massively and left Lee in the shit, again! It’s going to take more than a few wins to get back in his good books. 

Sektor just shrugs again and shakes his head.

Sektor: I don’t care, I’m not doing it. I’m certainly not having this conversation with his fucking lackey. Get me Lee Best, NOW!

Mario points a finger square in his face, no longer smiling and instead losing all patience with the Gold Standard.

Mario: Lee told me what to say to you if you showed up trying to throw your weight around. He told me to tell you to shut the fuck up, your not as special as you think you are and to that you will either do this match or fuck off!

Sektor scowls, breathing heavily and not liking what he is hearing. His nose then suddenly begins sniffing as he catches a whiff coming from Mario’s finger. Mario glances down at his finger as he notices this and swiftly puts it behind his back. 

Mario: Sektor, do yourself a favour. Go home, find some confidence in yourself and get ready for this match. Lee believes in ya.

With that, the door slams shut in his face. 




The ‘Gold Standard’ John Sektor versus the ‘Miracle Man’ Steve Harrison. 

Do I want this match? 

No, I don’t.


Because I fail to see what this match can do for either one of us. Either I’m going to get my ass kicked before Iconic, or you’re going to lose your streak right before your long awaited shot at the LSD title. 

Am I scared? Oh what? Losing? No. If I lose then so fucking what? Who cares. I’ll dust myself off, beat Flyer at Iconic, eat some Christmas turkey at Jatt’s house and come back in the new year even better. A match like this holds very little significance for me, save for that fact that you’re a very dangerous man who could hurt me right before the biggest event of the year. But to be honest, a match with High Flyer has me about as excited as aids at Christmas, so it doesn’t really matter. 

So what’s in this for you?

Well, to listen to you, you sound like every person who has faced me since I returned. You get to face a washed up drug addict, who’s so out of shape he celebrates not having a heart attack after every match. I expected more from you really, but I guess now that you’re facing an actual legend here in HOW you’re starting to show just how green around the edges you really are. See, it’s going to take more than the same old boring, hash-tag predictable, bullshit to cut me, amigo. Dane tried that and I beat him easily. Wasn’t even close, which is a crying shame because he stood a chance. I demoralised him so bad that when he saw his name next to yours on the following card he crumbled and didn’t even try. Now he’s gone and is back to being a sad panda, probably searching page one hundred and forty three for the next shitty promotion he can join 

If you want to beat the big boys you should really go for the throat. But then again, what could you say? I’ve shown the world my weaknesses and my sins because I’m not afraid of them. You talk about the time I won War Games and then fucked off. You weren’t even here so don’t pretend you know shit. You’ve been here five minutes and think you have it all figured out, but you don’t. I even see you’ve hired a bodyguard. I guess you catch on quick, that paranoia is beginning to set in now that you’ve established yourself as a serious player here in HOW. You’re looking over your shoulder waiting for someone to cripple you for taking their spot. When I was World champion? I had the entire ‘Elite Protection Unit’ watching my back. EPU, mother fucker! But it’s going to take more than a poorly constructed bodyguard to protect you. If I wanted your neck broke it would happen. 

There is more pressure on you, than there is on me. That is a fact. You have an undefeated streak, which you so proudly remind everyone about. As you should. But eventually it will end. Everyone loses eventually. Besides, your streak isn’t even all that great, is it? I mean, who have you actually beaten? A few guppies? Eric Dane. 


Let me tell you something about streaks, here in HOW Harrison. I’ve broken quite a few of them. You won’t have fingered your way back through the HOW archives far enough to stumble across a cat called Professor Keller. But that man had one of the hottest winning streaks in HOW history when he joined the company. And I assure you, he was much better then than you are now. 

You wanna take a stab in the dark at who finally beat him, Steve? 

Yeah, duh, John FUCKING Sektor. 

Eh, whatever. 

Let’s look at the present day. Our World champion has one, yes, ONE loss tarnishing his record since the lights turned back on here in HOW. The man who has beaten every single person he has come across, even literally killing his own brother. 

Guess who that one loss was against?

Yep, me. Same goes for Farthington. Before he lost the Icon title he had one little loss on his record and it was against ME. 


Because I am that, fucking, GOOD!

Pay the the respect I deserve because you will soon be eating a loss and it’s going to taste on so bitter, and I’m going to stand over you and laugh my ass off because when I look down at you I will see the face of a man who just realised his HOW career has only just truly begun!

I don’t give a fuck about your streak.

I don’t care if you think you are good or if you think you are going to beat me. 

I will not show you an ounce of respect in our match because you haven’t fucking earned it. 

You are nothing to me. You bore me. I am unimpressed by everything I have seen from you. I don’t buy the hype. I’m not drinking the Harrison Cool Aid, because all I see is a few wins against shitty wrestlers and the rest are guys who pretty much laid down for you. Well I won’t be lying down. 

And you love the smell of your own farts so much that You  actually have the gall to claim that I would want you by my side in the Best Alliance. 


Hard NO.

I Wouldn’t, because you’re a fucking nobody who has done NOTHING. You are nothing more that a fresh faced prick who’s on a bit of a heater and now thinks he’s already worth a fuck and writing history. You’ve written jack shit so far and until you start breaking title records and winning the big accolades you will continue to be a fucking nobody. I don’t want anyone by my side who I have never fought. Perhaps, after our match I will learn something about you that I like. But until then you’re just another short term success story that will soon be a fart in the wind the second things stop going his way. 

Yes, I’ve shit the bed many times here in HOW. I’ve shit on this company more times than Lee’s jizzed on Barbi Kostoff’s tits but I am still heralded as one of the best of all time. Why? Because when I am here, switched on and motivated? I am unstoppable. Ask any HOW veteran past or present what John Sektor is like when he turns it up to eleven. They will all say the same thing. 

I can beat anybody. I’ve made a career out of it. 


You’ll need more than a fucking Miracle when you face me. Just be glad that I am allowing you to share MY ring. 

Que Pasa?