Bobbinette Carey… and now… Am I stuck in a two thousand and eight time loop?
I mean, two thousand and eight was a great fucking year. I mean the economy sucked and for people who just graduated college, finding a job in a recession was a nightmare. But in the world of HOW, everything was great. I just debuted in HOW, at War Games, on team Best Alliance. I was on track to be the next biggest thing here. I crucified a man at Rumble at the Rock, cementing that as my fucking show. Then I was booked against one of the biggest legends in HOW, in his own match, for the LSD Title, at ICONIC.
It’s been nearly fourteen years since that match Chris… fourteen fucking years of me being in HOW and us going back and forth at each other. Over that time I have now become a legend here in HOW, inducted into the Hall of Fame, won a World Title and have the most LSD Title reigns of all time. I’ve also come to appreciate your hatred for one Lee Best.
Of course I didn’t understand it back in two thousand and eight… I was in The Best Alliance. I was one of Lee’s right hand men. Commissioner at times, trusted staffer, the whole shabang. But something happened… Lee soured on me… he found new shiny toys… or at least dug up old ones to play with again. Christopher America, Max Kael, Jatt Starr… and of course Mike Best.
Maybe you think I finally got what I deserved. I’m sure you feel no pity… certainly, no remorse. Nor should you… nor am I the kind of person that needs it. What I am in need of though, is probably the only thing that Chris Kostoff has left to give HOW. That is to help me prove that I am still The Hardcore Artist. To tear the fucking house down with the kind of bloodsport match that the HOW constantly crave. To show that I am not some fucking… what did those assholes call it… yeah, a simp.
I won’t lie… I had no idea what the fuck that word meant before March to Glory. But after I figured it out… it’s no shock that the fucks in the HOW locker room are trying to get that word to stick. Anything for a cheap fucking laugh from the boys huh? You fuckers are just pissed that me and Carey pulled one over on you all and we’re enjoying how mad it made you all. Pissed we game your shitty fucking system where you are trying to keep people like me, Carey, Stevens and Zion down with.
“He should embrace this, lean into being Carey’s simp” Is what they are saying, trying to pass it off as “advice… when they just want to try and discount The Hardcore Artist
Well fuck off. I’m done with all your bullshit games, I’m not gonna fall for it… I’m not gonna let you distract me. I’m focused on one thing and one thing only… War Games.
I’m not gonna get into all the bullshit of who picked who and whatever swerves that The BORED has in store. I’m focused on the only thing I can really control… on doing what I do best… and that is causing fucking anarchy when I walk into that War Games cage. So let’s fucking go Kostoff… channel that monster I fought in two thousand eight at ICONIC and show everyone just what The Hardcore Artist has left in the fucking tank.
The Best Arena
The Hardcore Artist sits in his locker room, beer in hand as he is on the phone with someone. We can’t hear the voice on the other end, but Scotty seems to be deeply focused on the call, not even noticing that Frankie is filming on his phone.
“He’s doing what next week?” Asks Scotty somewhat rhetorically, hearing clearly what he just heard, but not believing it.
“Yes, I know that wasn’t part of the agreement, but can we offer him more money to not? He has to know that this isn’t going to end well for anyone.” Fires back Scotty, as he shakes his head in disbelief.
“Whatever then… let him be, let him make his own choices and we’ll see where this goes. I have bigger things to worry about then…” Scotty pauses as he finally sees Frankie in the room.
“I gotta let you go, we’ll talk later about this. Just make sure he keeps his mouth shut, I don’t need to deal with this now.” Sighs Scotty as he shakes his head and hangs up the phone as he gets up from the steel chair he was sitting on and walks towards Frankie.
“Deal with what Scotty? There are no problems, are there?” Questions Frankie as he super zooms in on Scotty’s face… not with the zoom button, but by nearly slamming the camera ino Scotty’s face before The Hardcore Artist pushes him away.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with Frankie. I’ll take care of it like I always do. What are you doing in here anyways? I thought you were gonna go and try and figure out what Kostoff was up to.
“I couldn’t find him. But I had some ice cream from catering… then had some brain freeze cause I ate it too quickly. They really should put a warning on that stuff, it hurt so badly. But then it went away and I got some more to bring back here. Do you want some?” Rambles on Frankie as he lifts the ice cream up and offers it to Scotty.
“No… I don’t want any ice cream. Go back out there and try to find him. I heard some people screaming earlier, so you know is ugly mug has to be somewhere in the arena.” Suggests Scotty as Frankie shakes his head no.
“That was me screaming earlier, I saw a spider.” Admits Frankie as Scotty again shakes his head before taking a long drink of his beer.
“Maybe I should have let Carey keep you…” Mumbles Scotty under his breath to the point that Frankie can’t hear him.
“But I’d also probably scream too if I saw Kostoff. I swear he gets scarier every day, how is that even possible?” Asks Frankie as he shivers even thinking about Kostoff.
“Well… when your body is rotting more than the Nazi in The Lost Ark, that’s what happens.” Jabs Scotty as Frankie again shivers at the thought of that scene from Indiana Jones.
“But I’ll take another look Scotty, maybe I can get another ice cream from catering too?” Asks Frankie with a huge smile on his face before taking another huge bite of his ice cream.
“Sure you c…” Tries to say Scotty but Frankie quickly cuts him off.
“Brain freeze again!” Yells Frankie as he quickly runs out of the locker room as Scotty smirks a bit before once again shaking his head and finishing his beer.
“I really hope the kid can continue to live in ignorant bliss. He’s not ready for any of this.” Says Scotty to himself as he takes a deep breath and cracks open a new beer.
“But gotta focus on Kostoff, can never take that man for granted. We’ve had some epic fucking battles. That House of Pain match at ICONIC is still one my favorite in my HOW career. A career that had so much promise. I mean it’s pretty shitty to be disappointed at my actual career here. I’ve won every title this fed has offered… except the new HOTv one. I hold records with the LSD Title. I even finally got my World Title win. Plus I’m in the fucking Hall of Fame. It just feels… lacking… unfinished.” Dejectedly admits Scotty as he starts to pace around the locker room. Getting more and more anxious about… everything.
“It might not be a Mike Best resume… but few in HOW have one better. So I’m not gonna let them discount all of it with one fucking word. Some fucking slur. Fucking Simp… fuck off. Just because I didn’t take a friend’s eye. Just because I saw the greater good of having Carey on my side come War Games….” Scotty pauses as his cell phone interrupts him.
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
“Speaking of, that must be her again. Ever last night when the teams were drafted… and surprise surprise, those fuckers put us on opposite teams. Bad enough Carey nor myself were picked as captains… but now this bullshit. Honestly it makes me just wanna say fuck their War Games… fuck all of this.” He fucking ponders as he reaches into his pocket and grabs his cellphone.
Carey – 7 New Text Messages
“This is why you never try to scheme and politic here in HOW. They will always find a way to fuck it up for you. Like go out of their fucking way to do it to. Whatever… we’ll deal with it… we’ll manage, just like we always have for the past fifteen years or whatever.” Sighs Scotty again as he cracks open a fresh Anti-Hero IPA.
“Still no Kostoff, I really don’t think he’s gonna be here until Sunday. He doesn’t need to practice anything before the show. He shows up, smashes things and then leaves.” Offers up Frankie, as if Scotty had no idea who Kostoff was.
“I could try to rip him for being predictable… but I’d be calling the kettle black for sure.” Responds Scotty as he… yes… takes a drink of his IPA.
“But I will fucking rip him apart if he thinks he can just phone this shit it. This is Scottywood versus Kostoff! This is a ICONIC rematch. This is a match that should steal the fucking show. I know just how hard Kostoff can actually bring it. If he doesn’t… well, let’s just say that he has not been my friend for the past fifteen years… so there will be no eleventh hour reprieve for him.”
“Like you saved Bobbi! I was so happy when you didn’t stab her in the eye. You both won the match and you won back your friendship! It was the greatest match in the history of HOW!” Exclaims Frankie, maybe being the only other person who actually liked what he saw at March to Glory.
“Woulda been fucking easier… it would have been simp…le, if I just stabbed her in the fucking eye though. Plus now it looks like we won’t even be on the same War Games team. But hey, I can never do anything the easy way here, so fuck it, bring on all this War Games bullshit.” Shrugs Scotty as he knocks back his beer.
“So let’s fucking go Chris. One more time. Bring the man pleaser jokes, tell them all how you’re gonna beat the shit out of me. Tell them how you don’t care whether you win or lose. Because we all know that ever since two thousand and eight, I’ve had your fucking number. It’s SIMPLE Chris, even you can figure out how this will go… Game Misconduct and one, two, three. Because you may be the big bad scary monster of HOW… but remember that the Anti-Christ fears fucking no one.” Warns Scotty as he calls for Frankie to cut the camera feed while he finishes another beer.