Here we go. One last time. One last time to see Scottywood versus Mike Best. All starting with one of the greatest HOFC matches in HOW history, all meant to just give me a kick in the ass. It all now ends with me getting one last one on one shot at winning the HOW World Title. One last chance… a chance that I had to cash in everything I had left in order to get it. Because I guess being the only person with a pinfall victory over Mike Best in this era wasn’t enough.
I won’t beat a dead Solex anymore, we all know the reality of that situation and we both have solid points. Even before you beat Conor Fuse to reclaim that HOW World Title, I am the hottest feud you’ve had going in HOW in a very long time. You ran rough shot over HOFC, it was barely even a fucking challenge for you. Until I found a fire I thought was long since lost. You reignited it Mike, you sparked me to be the Scottywood, that can on any given night beat the BEST here in HOW. And I thank you for that every single day.
Thank you Mike.
And you should be thanking me too.
Because this is the World Title match you really want. It wasn’t Conor Fuse, Clay Byrd… it isn’t even Cecilworth Farthington. Scottywood versus Mike Best for the HOW World Title. It’s fucking money… it is going to be match of the fucking year in HOW.
Not to put down Conor or Clay… they are both top notch competitors. I fought Conor at ICONIC last year and it was one hell of fucking fight. And Clay, he would have been a nasty challenge for you… he may have well beaten you at ICONIC. So no shock you had his arm broken. But I could tell your heart wasn’t in either of those matches. They were not sufficient to suffice the massive ego of Mike Best. I guess some things certainly are passed on via DNA.
So you decide that Cecilworth Farthington will be Clay’s replacement. I mean who can fucking argue that? He is a HOW Hall of Famer, a former World Champion who held the title for at the time, a record breaking two hundred and twenty-four days. He also had earned a title shot against Mike Best… for the HOFC Title, but who can argue that detail when it is Cecilworth fucking Farthington. Two of the biggest names to hold the HOW World Title in this era, going one on one for said title at ICONIC!
But I know your heart isn’t in this one either, is it Mike? You never wanted to face Farthington. You don’t even want to face him now. I don’t blame you, I wouldn’t wanna battle my best friend either. The match will feed that ego… but what joy will it bring to knee your best friend in the face… or for your best friend to make you tap out to the Article Fifty. Even with your bullshit Gentleman’s Games… how is your friendship gonna survive once you two truly know who is better?
So you can thank me Mike, thank me for giving you the World Title match you really wanted. Feeding your ego and your ability to go out there and inflict every ounce of pain you can… without feeling an ounce of remorse. Then you can thank me again when I take that World Title and remove all the pressure from that match with your bestie. The loser can just claim nothing was on the line… and still hold onto some semblance of balance in your friendship.
You’ll never admit any of this… but once again, we’ll both know the reality, won’t we Mike. Because I know even with this reality, you would never give up that World Title without anything less than giving it every fucking thing you got. You would rather risk your friendship than lose the HOW World Title… so don’t think for a second I believe you’ll ever give me anything less than ninety-seven hundred percent in this match. Plus I don’t plan on leaving a single fucking ounce of doubt in anyone’s mind when I beat you this time. You won’t be able to talk your way out of saying the words, “I got beat by Scottywood”.
The games are over Mike. Your gentlemen ones with Farthington. My mind games, trying to bait you into more fights. I gave up everything I have left for this match. So I’m not playing around. This is not some kind of fucking joke. Like rock, paper and scissors last week? Seriously? Fucking pathetic. Then I hear you wanna make side bets. Turn this into a reverse hair match and get me to grow out cornrows if I lose? Fuck off. Are you that fucking bored with your tenth HOW Title reign? That you have resorted to this kind of bullshit to entertain yourself?
That’s rhetorical, I know the answer is an obvious fucking yes.
But I know you won’t take the actual match as a joke Mike. I know you are smarter than that. The stuck in the nineties jabs, the jokes about my former red dreadlocks, anything about how I haven’t earned everything I won in HOW or that I don’t belong in the Hall of Fame. I know you are better than all those comments this week. I know you truly fear this match… just as much as you love it. You know I am a threat… because if I show up… if the real Scottywood shows up… you are in for your biggest fight of the year.
I know, it’s honestly my biggest problem. Finding that motivation to bring THAT Scottywood to show up. But there is something about facing you Mike… something that really motivates me to bring the absolute fucking BEST I have to try and beat you. Honestly… sometimes I think beating you is the bigger prize than winning an HOW Title. HOFC, Tag Team, and some might think it’s blasphemous, but I’m the fucking Anti-Christ, so yes, even the World Title. It actually all seems to be less important than saying… I beat Mike Best.
Fuck you for that by the way.
I fucking HATE that’s the case… the reality. Fuck that says soooo much about you and what you have done in HOW. I’m truly fucking jealous of that. No one else in HOW holds that kind of fucking status here. No one ever will.
This is going to be the toughest match of my HOW career. Period. No jokes, no jabs, no witty fucking wall cracking shots. You are the very best that HOW has ever seen… and I am going to have to bring every fucking thing I have to even get within the cunt hairs it will take to beat you. It can be done, I’ve proved it in this era, I’ve proved it in the last. I’ve taken a title from you before… so no one… no one Mike, not even you, can claim I can’t do it again.
So again… thank you Mike… and you’re welcome.
Post Refueled LXXIX
Backstage of the SSE Hydro we see The Hardcore Artist in a dimly lit room and sitting on a steel chair as he is removing his wrestling boots. Lace by lace he loosens them up before he takes the boot off and tosses it into his bag. It’s almost time for a post show drink after what has been a very productive Refueled.
Suddenly the door to the room opens and Scotty reaches for his barbed wire hockey stick… but then stops as he realizes the person is not a threat. It’s Bobbinette Carey.
“So… a World Title shot against Mike Best next week? Epic.” Asks Carey just slowly shaking her head with a smirk on it.
“Yep. Guess I won who signed the better contract tonight.” Replies Scotty, with his own smirk on his face.
“It isn’t a competition but yeah you uberly won… but you couldn’t give me a heads up?” She concedes before turning the conversation.
“You couldn’t have given me a heads up that you were… alive, after Rumble at the Rock?” Counters Scotty, certainly not letting Carey off the hook for what he thinks is the same thing.
“Phones work both ways. Did you think to even try and text me or call?” Asks Carey back, not backing down from her gripe with Scotty.
“Is there cell service at the bottom of San Francisco Bay?” Scotty quickly fires back dryly.
“I got out, Scooter! Obvi, but if anyone has a right to be upset maybe for you taking my jet and using my credit card…” She says with her hands on her hips. Her face looks annoyed as she shakes her head.
“Didn’t think dead people needed a plane or credit card.” Comments Scotty as he doesn’t look at Carey, but instead looking past her as if she is a ghost.
“I’m alive Scooter!” Sighs Carey loudly as she almost wants to bury her face in her hands.
“Ok, ok, I can see that now, but the literal first thing I got from you after seeing you return during Mario’s cringe inducing memorial service, was a text today. Telling me to come out and stand at the top of the ramp when you drop the pen, during your contract signing.” Counters Scotty back as now he’s starting to get annoyed.
The tension is building between the two Hall of Famers as finally it is cut by the only person possible for them.
“CAREY!!!” Scream Frankie as he enters the room, running up to Bobbinette and giving her a giant hug.
“I’m so glad you were ok after that horrible attack by Mario!” He exclaims, his face still buried innocently in Carey’s chest.
“At least someone here cares if I’m ok.” She says hugging Frankie as her face changes to guilt when looking at Frankie.
“Hey, that goes both ways too. I lost a brutal fight at Alcatraz, and I didn’t get a text from you checking on me.” Scotty snips back at her.
“You ran people over with a Zamboni!! You weren’t as beat up as most of the people in that match!” Nearly yells Carey as she is clearly getting frustrated with Scotty.
“Maybe not physically. Still not sure if I killed a man or not in that. Probably should have checked on that too. But what about mentally? That HOTv Title should be mine right now… but instead yet another title just slipped out of my fingers.” Tries to explain Scotty, albeit in a disturbing kind of way. Though HAS anyone checked to see if QT Reese is dead?
“I don’t like it when you two fight.” Interjects Frankie, looking back and forth at the two, trying to express his sadness at this riff.
“Ok, neither of us are good at communicating. Sure you haven’t talked to a man who wasn’t a complete piece of toxic shit in a long time.” Admits Scotty, relenting a bit and taking some of the blame.
“You’re not wrong… Also, as a former fed owner, you’re not the greatest at working well with others. You’re used to being in control. “Team” is a four letter word to Scottywood.” Bobbinette also admits as she breaks down why Scotty has the same communication issues.
“And I can see the reality in that statement too…” Sighs Scotty, agreeing with Carey for once.
“So can you two put this behind ya? You each have someone much more important to focus your frustrations on.” Asks Frankie, adding a rare statement that actually makes fucking sense.
“Ya…. I can. I got a Mike Best to beat… and a World Title to win.” Agrees Scotty as he maybe Freudian slips which is more important to him this week.
“I can too. Cause I’d much rather stop Mario’s heart for good… I mean beat his ass at ICONIC.” Smiles Carey, being less than obvious about her true intentions. Cause if you beat a Mario and he doesn’t die… has he really been beaten?
“Yay!!! Now hug it out?” Asks Frankie with a huge smile on his face.
Both snap their heads to Frankie and shoot him a look that easily says “fuck no”.
“We’ll shake on it.” Responds Carey as The Queen B extends her hand out to The Hardcore Artist.
“Yes, a gentlepersons agreement.” Smirks Scotty as he also extends his hand and the two shake hands to the giddy happiness of Frankie.
“Very woke Scotty, I can imagine Mario and Mike are puking in their mouths right now.” Chuckles Carey as they finish the handshake. She then reaches over and picks up Scotty barbed wire hockey stick.
“I don’t know how much technique it takes to beat someone over the head with one of these… but maybe give me some pointers. I could see the upside to ripping Mario’s flesh off his back with this at ICONIC.” Ponders Carey as the sharp points of the barbed wire glisten under the sole light bulb in the room.
“Is that a hint at what kind of match stipulation you have in mind?” Asks Scotty, trying to pry some details out of her.
“I’ll fill you in… but let’s just say, it will be quite the shocker for Mario’s ole ticker.” Laughs Carey again as she hands the hockey stick back to Scotty.
“Sounds good to me.” Chuckles Scotty as he takes the stick and swings it a couple times in the air.
“But let’s get the fuck out of here. Time for a celebratory drink, we both signed some big contracts tonight.” Suggests Scotty as Carey nods her head back at him.
“Ok, but the first… and all the rounds of drinks are on you after what you ran up on my card.” Stipulates Carey as her tone turns a bit more sternly.
“In my defense, I never thought anyone would have to pay for it.” Smiles Scotty as he zips his bag up and tosses it over his shoulder.
“Not how credit cards work Scooter… even if someone is dead.” Retorts Carey as she just shakes her head.
“Fine, I didn’t think I would have to pay for it. But sure, drinks are on me tonight, the soon to be two time HOW World Champion.” Smiles Scotty in a slightly bragging tone.
“Then drinks will be on me, welcoming you to the club.” Smirks Carey, reminding Scotty of what she has already done.
Scotty shakes his head with his own smirk as he motions towards the door and the three of them make their way out of the room. They all exit, but Frankie quickly scampers back in, trying to be a bit energy conscious and hits the light switch for the single bulb and sends the room into darkness.