Should I Spoil the Story? Check (Y/N)

Should I Spoil the Story? Check (Y/N)

Posted on May 15, 2024 at 10:17 pm by Scott Stevens

Location: Chicago, Illinois: Joseph J. Gentile Center

Date: May 14, 2024

The scene opens up and The Stevens Dynasty are standing victorious over a team that doesn’t need naming and the boos are relentless from the Chicago crowd. The patriarch of the Stevens family and his oldest make their way into the ring. Cary demands a microphone and once it is placed into his hand he strides confidently to the center of the ring flanked by his nephew, Bo on his right, sons, George on his left, and Scott in the back watching intently towards the stage and the crowd. Cary grips the microphone tightly with an intense glint in his eyes.

“Y’all see what happened there!”

Cary shouts as he points to the trash that litters the outside of the ring before pointing towards the camera.

“Another victory for Bo and George!”

He turns and smacks his boys on the chest before he circles his team.

“But next week, y’all know there’s more at stake.”

He makes a complete circle as they all nod before turning his attention back towards the camera.

“No Quarter keep talkin’ a big game and they fail every time they try. I ain’t afraid ‘cause my boys are ready for anything No Quarter throw at them.”

Cary emphasizes and the boos grow louder causing the patriarch to pause in annoyance.

“Next week,” he continued, his voice dripping with disdain, “we’ll show those punks what it really means to be champions. They ain’t got a chance against us.”

Bo and George nod in agreement behind him, their muscles flexing in anticipation for the upcoming match as Scott watches the crowd and the stage to make sure no shenanigans take place as his father’s face twists into a fierce scowl.

“Next time, you two might want to watch your mouths before Bo and George knock your teeth out down your fucking throat!

Cary emphasizes as his he and his team holds up their massive fists.

“You think you’re so tough?”

Cary asks as he makes his way over to the ropes and leans on them.

“The Stevens Dynasty don’t think we’re tough, we know we’re tough, and no matter how tough you are won’t be enough to defeat us!”

The crowd explodes into more jeers.

“Next week,” he growls, “we’ll see who comes out on top. But one thing’s for sure, No Quarter will be leaving with our boot prints firmly lodged in their asses!”

Cary slams his microphone down on the mat with a finality that echoes throughout the arena as the crowd begins to hurl garbage into the ring at the Texans showing what they think of them.

Later that night……………………

The scene switches to the backstage area and we see Kellie Burkowski, who seems to be in a bit of a hurry.

“Come on. Keep up.”

Kellie berates the camera man for his slowness as she picks up her speed as she sees her targets in the distance. The heavy breathing starts to be heard as Kellie shows her Olympic style speed walking as she leaves him behind.


Kellie shouts trying to get the man’s attention before he and his family exit the arena for the night.


She shouts once again, this time sprinting towards the Dynasty causing all the members to stop and turn towards her causing her to stop and a few seconds later the cameraman comes bubbling forward about to keel over.


Scott asks as he places his duffle bag on his shoulder.

“It’s been awhile since you were last seen on MVW programming and I wanted to see what you were doing here?”

The question brings an annoyed look to the Texan’s face.

“And I thought Brian Bare asked stupid questions.”

Scott responds and he turns to leave when Kellie grabs his arm causing him to immediately stop and shoot her a look.

“I’m sorry……”

Kellie replies as she cautiously removes her hand.

“I just wanted to know why you were here after being away for so long.”

Scott lets out a sigh.

“Kellie, do you really want to know why I’m here?”

Scott asks and she nods.

“I’m here to support them.”

Scott points to his family.

“I’m here to make sure they retain their tag titles against those hacks they are facing next week. I’m here for my little brother as he tries to finish his quest of becoming MVW champion. I’m here to support my wife as she helps usher in a new era of dominance in MVW as another Stevens woman will not only become a face of a division, but will soon be recognized as the most dominant female wrestler in the world.”

Stevens leans in.

“I’m here to not only support my family, but also keep myself in tip top shape against some of the best wrestlers in the world not in HOW as I head into the most important match there is…….War Games. If I wanted something easy I’d compete in those indy feds named PRIME or DEFIANCE.”

Scott takes the microphone from her and sternly states.

“After I finish my goal in HOW and become the world champion once more, I’ll be back in MVW to take what I should’ve taken a long time ago, and that is the MVW championship because wrestling has more than royal family Kellie, but we are the only one that fucking matters.”

Scott hands the microphone back before the Stevens Dynasty leave for the evening.

Location: Chicago, Illinois: Stevens Apartment

Date: May 15, 2024

“Quick fashion question.”

The random statement echoes throughout the darkened apartment.

“Should I wear this tec-9 with these high tops or this uzi with the low tops?”

A rather strange set of questions indeed, but as we make our way further into the abyss there is a light and the flickering glow is from the television showing, Don’t Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood.

“I’ll just wear these….”

Loc Dog grabs a pair of pink bunny slippers as we see Scott Stevens and his lovely bride asleep on the couch. The snoring coming from both could wake the dead, but it’s the sound of a buzzsaw escaping their esophagus to awaken the Hall of Famers, but the vibration of a cellular device.




Scott says in a confused mumble as he begins to stir.



The vibrations continue as Scott wipes the crust from his eyes and lets out an overly obnoxious yawn before turning his attention to the stand next to the couch and reaching over to grab his phone. Stevens glances at his phone and immediately groans at the site of the name that has been texting him which causes his wife to awaken from her slumber.

“What’s wrong?”

The sultry voice asks and the gravely voice of her husband replies.


The response causes Lisa to rise from her husband’s chest and reach over and grab the phone from Scott’s hands. She begins to read the messages and once finished she places the phone on the table in front of them.

“Why don’t you accept his invitation?”

Scott waves off the statement.

“Because what is there to gain from it?”

Scott asks in mixture of frustration and annoyance.

“I mean it’s no secret we don’t want to team with one another and I’ll be a Chaos to do my job like I always do, but will he?”

Stevens says with a shrug before continuing.

“He cost us the last time because you wanted to do it himself. He’s unhinged and it’s not the good kind.”

Scott states with a shake of his head.

“He actually believes he’s the Prodigal Son to Lee Best and he actually believes he would be chosen by Lee over Mike. He believes that teaming me is beneath him yet he was the one that got pinned in our last tag match.”

Lisa nods her head in agreement to the last statement.

“I mean what do you expect me to do?”

Scott asks his wife who shrugs.

“Pull out a victory? I mean, you working on the same page could be enough to surprise a brain damaged Christopher America and a neutered Steve Solex.”

Lisa tells her husband who lets out a sigh before he begins to type away on his phone and sends a simple reply.



I respect you, Scott Stevens.

Did I hear that right?

I respect you, Scott Stevens.

Yep, as I live and breathe, Christopher America says he respects me.









You feeling alright buddy?

Are you sick?

Do you have a fever?


I’m just asking because as much as I appreciate the compliment from a fellow Hall of Famer, I don’t believe a single fucking word coming from your lips. Hell, Chet Dakota tells better lies than you. I know what you are thinking Chris, why would this man not accept and appreciate my compliment and the answer is simple, because I know who you really are…. scratch that…. I know what your truly are and if you did, you wouldn’t be complimenting me. You see old friend, I could go ahead and spoil the story for you, but what fun would that be than watching the man you trust the most continue to string you along like he has done with everyone for years.

For someone who has been instructed to observe everything about me you sure have gotten the wrong messages about me.

You see Chris, I’m not trying to right the wrongs of HOW like your buddy Brian Hollywood because that doesn’t work in HOW. I’m here to eradicate a cancer that has been lingering for far too long and at War Games I do just that. You questioning my methods on how I do things is the pot calling the kettle black because I remember a certain person who wears Old Glory underwear doing some pretty questionable things as well. Unlike my partner, I don’t need victories and other feel-good moments to achieve a level of respect and acceptance in HOW because my Hall of Fame status pretty much says that.

Don’t worry, I’m sure you didn’t vote for me because you don’t like to do that.

How Un-American of you.

While you’ve been questioning me about my questionable acts, have you asked your GOD the most important question of all?

And that question would be, “could I see my old matches?”

He said no?

Figured he would say that.

Next time you see him, ask him about the High Octane Television Network. The reason why I’m telling you this is because there is a ton of footage of you in your glory years dating all the way back to 2009. I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of watching your greatest hits unless he informs the men in the skull masks not to allow you to watch it.


I wonder why he would do that?

I mean he’s there to help you after all.

Isn’t it?

America, I don’t care who you’ve beaten because our little tag match is just a bump in the road to my ultimate goal of winning War Games, and sure defeating the greatest War Games competitor in HOW’s history would be a nice feather in my black Stetson, but it’s something I want, not need. Like you, each week, I learn, adapt, and evolve to my next plan of action because that’s how I’ve been able to sustain my longevity in HOW for as long as I have.

I am the Machine of HOW whether you like it or not Chris.

While you’ve been a literal ghost to the machine for years, I’ve always been here competing and striving to be the best, not when it seems practical to me or when I need to pad some stats. I am the definition of consistency and you can make all the jokes with that as you like, but I’ve been here since 2012 and haven’t left while this is like your fifth return, no exaggeration. Mount Rushmore my ass. Yeah, you would be on the Mount Rushmore of HOW if it included Ken Davison, and the eGG Bandits with how many times Lee Best has let you come back before you shit the bed once again.

You are not the man I fear because I don’t fear anyone, and as cynical as that sounds it’s the truth.

If I get beat, I get beat and that’s the end of it, but I don’t fear anyone, especially you.

The only thing that haunts my career can be found on HOTv and if you ask really nicely, I’m sure the masked men that keep you in your dungeon will let you watch it. Hope you’re not squeamish my friend because it is graphic with lots of blood and gore.

Chris, I don’t need to exorcise you because in a few months you’ll do that yourself.

Sorry my friend, it’s just the truth.

You can continue to be stringed along by the snake charmer you’ve put your livelihood in or your can grow a set and demand to be told the truth, but at the end of the day I will get what I’m after.

And my last note I’ll leave you with since I’ve been hearing all the rumors circulating around the locker room because people do talk.

That image you been thinking about since you’ve were found by Lee.

You know the one that is in the back of your mind, clawing and scratching trying to reach the surface.

Yes, that one.

The one you can’t put a name to it.

I won’t spoil it for you, but I will say this.

She belongs to me.

Sweet dreams my friend.