- Event: Chaos 049
Location: Chicago, Illinois: Stevens Apartment
Date: November 11, 2023
The scene opens into a dimly lit living room that looks like it was recently hit by a natural disaster or someone broke in and burglarized the place. Articles of clothing are thrown everywhere, dishes covered with half eaten bits of pizza litter the coffee table, as well wadded up yellow pieces of paper are on the carpeted floor.
What a fucking mess.
I guess Scott Stevens truly loves living in a pigsty with this dirty ass apartment.
We can discuss personal hygiene and living conditions later because the attention suddenly changes as we hear loud grunts and moans coming from the bedroom.
Dear Lord, lets pray we hope we don’t walk into what we think may be going on.
As we make our way to the bedroom, we see that we are saved from something that would appear on adult entertainment sites as Scott Stevens sits on his bed with his laptop in his lap as he jots down notes on a notepad.
What is the Hall of Famer watching?
We catch a glimpse of what is on the computer screen.
Joe Hoffman: Shane Reynolds is all over de Lacy but he’s not really connecting with anything.
And then, with the precision of a master craftsman, de Lacy counters.
Joe Hoffman: An arm drag takedown sends Reynolds crashing to the mat. Before Reynolds can react, de Lacy follows up with a snapmare, flipping his opponent onto his back.
The crowd roars.
Joe Hoffman: de Lacy starts fast… but Reynolds isn’t done yet. He comes back with a series of moves of his own… but De Lacy matches him move for move, countering everything Reynolds does with one of his own.
The two men trade blows.
Stevens pauses the match between Shane Reynolds and Charles de Lacy to jot something down on the notepad and circle it before continuing the match.
Reynolds smirks and calculates his next move. He sees Mickey up on the ring apron. A sudden burst of energy, and a powerful dropkick sends Mickey sprawling off the apron of the ring to the floor. The crowd erupts with boos and jeers.
Joe Hoffman: REYNOLDS DROP-KICKED MICKEY OFF THE RING APRON!
Benny Newell: Cheap shot!
de Lacy’s attention is momentarily diverted and Reynolds seizes the moment, delivering another devastating dropkick that sends de Lacy flying from the ring.
Joe Hoffman: NOW DE LACY IS SENT OUT OF THE RING.
Stevens pauses the match once more and jots down some more notes on the legal pad and underlines one of the notes down multiple times before hitting play again.
Joe Hoffman: BIG TIME EUROPEAN UPPERCUTS TO REYNOLDS AND HE’S IN TROUBLE!
The final uppercut sends him reeling into his corner, where Riley watches like a hawk, her eyes glinting with malice. In the heat of battle, de Lacy steps too close. Riley swipes at de Lacy with her long nails, narrowly missing his face. His eyes flash with rage, but before he can retaliate, Reynolds clocks him from behind, a vicious sucker punch that leaves him dazed.
The Texan doesn’t stop the video as he jots down more notes.
Boots collide with flesh, a merciless stomping orchestrated by Reynolds’ crew. De Lacy’s body convulses with each impact, pain igniting like fireworks across his skin.
Scott makes a long, drawn-out circle in his notes.
Joe Hoffman: DANDY DECREE?…
de Lacy lifts and executes the bridging fisherman’s suplex, driving Reynolds into the mat.
Hortega dives in, hand-slapping the canvas with each count.
UNO…
DOS…
TRES.
*DING-DING-DING*
Joe Hoffman: DE LACY WINS!
Stevens makes some final notes before tossing the pad down next to him on the bed and shutting his laptop and placing it on the nightstand. Scott moves his legs off of the bed and rises to his feet. He gives a hearty yawn as he takes a deep stretch before making his way around the bed as he pries his 97 Red colored High Octane Wrestling t-shirt from his chiseled frame displaying the wounds from the cage match. Scott tosses the shirt onto the floor as he disappears into the restroom and the door closes as the last image seen is the notepad as the scene slowly fades
- Overly Aggressive
- Too reliant on help
- WEAK NECK!!!
——————————————
In 1895, Paul Laurence Dunbar famously penned, “We Wear the Mask” about putting on a smile everyday even though he and his fellow African Americans were constantly oppressed.
Don’t let them see you at your weakest.
Very strong message that transcends through races and genders that is still valued today.
Fake it until you make it.
However, ever since we both returned to HOW, we have both been wearing masks haven’t we?
Both literally and metaphorically it seems.
It also seems that both of us have been stuck in the ghosts of our pasts. For me, I had been living in the year 2015 when I was briefly the face of High Octane Wrestling and I thought I was invincible. I was finally in the Main Event scene and what happens? HOW closes. When HOW returned, I never reached the level of success I had in the last years of the Modern Era of HOW because I had been chasing accolades that have since passed me by.
It took me a long time to figure out that I’m not Scott Stevens from 2015.
Since you’ve returned, it seems you are trying to figure things out as well because the shadow of Bobbinette Carey still hovers over you. You return and the first person you go after is her.
Great.
Awesome.
You beat her.
What have you done since?
A forgettable reign as HOTv champion?
Losing to a guy who was trying to quit HOW for months at the last pay-per-view?
You’ve really been killing it since you’ve returned.
I know I’m the last one to be comparing anything, but I’ve come to the conclusion that not giving a single fuck about anyone or anything is what bests suits me.
What best suits you, Shane?
You call yourself the Devil and remember, the Devil’s greatest trick was convincing the world he didn’t exist. Well, you keep performing the way you have been and you’ll convince people you didn’t exist during this era of HOW all by yourself.
You see Shane, I’ve faced GODs, Sons, Hammers, Anti-Christs, Whores of Babylon, Standards of Chemical Elements, and more. And you know what they’ve all had in common? Absolutely nothing because they never have impressed me, just like you because you are nothing more than a mortal behind a silly little mask playing fake pretend wrestling. I don’t need both of my eyes to see that.
I don’t respect you, Shane Reynolds.
I respect the once fabled Shane Reynolds who was, “too extreme” to handle. I respect the once feared Shane Reynolds who Freddy Krueger had nightmares about. However, that Shane Reynolds must be a myth because I’ve always heard about this terrifying presence but I have yet to witness it for myself. I guess I never will because the Hall of Fame, Shane Reynolds didn’t need to hide behind a mask to send chills down the spine of his enemies. That Shane Reynolds didn’t need help to not gain a victory over a part time wrestler. That Shane Reynolds would’ve taken out Bobbinette Carey for good, but she’s still walking.
They say you are to be feared.
Why?
You know what’s scary Shane?
Graystone coming back from the dead after he was ground up and his ashes were carried around in a coffee can for years.
You know what else is scary?
A man claiming to be Max Kael? competing against much lesser competition in an organization built from HOW rejects and has-beens.
You know what is really scary?
Your own biological son became one of the quickest world champions in the company’s history while you’re trying to stay relevant as everything is quickly changing around you. I know, because it happened to me, but I’m finding out if you fuck around long enough, you’re bound to find out and find out I did. I tried to be things I wasn’t….
Funny.
Hero.
Best Alliance.
The Mike Best Slayer.
The Wrestler Out of Time.
A Demi-God.
XPRO Mentor.
Most importantly, a follower.
Once I shed the gimmicks and started to care less about what people thought about what I should be doing and concerned myself with that their opinions don’t matter I started to remember what brought me to the dance in the first place.
I sent Adam Ellis packing back to the place of McKenna Blue.
I ripped the flesh and bloodied Drew Mitchell to send a message that HOW isn’t for the timid as we battled inside a steel cage.
I am finding my footing while you are teetering.
You don’t need to concern yourself with shades of gray or what Riley and your minions are doing because the only thing you need to concern yourself with is me and whether or not I’m breaking your neck when I spike you on your head.
It’ll be a Game Changer for sure.
——————————————–
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
The loud banging echoes throughout the apartment and the sound of rapidly squeaks are heard as nozzles are being turned.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
“I’m coming! I’m coming!”
Is shouted as Scott appears from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and water drenching the floor with each step as he power walks towards the door. The Texan grabs the handle and throws the door open.
“WHAT DO YOU WAN…….”
Scott stops himself as there is no one standing outside of his door. He steps outside and looks down either side of the hallway and sees no one outside.
“Weird.”
He says to himself as he turns to go back inside his apartment, but stops to see an envelope with his name across the front. Scott reaches down and picks up the envelope and begins to open it as he heads back inside. He shuts the door with his foot and a confused look comes over the Texan’s face as he tosses the envelope and the card inside down on the coffee table.
“Cute. Real cute Reynolds!”
Scott shouts as he unfastens his towel from his waist and lets it drop to the ground. The Texan slowly does a three hundred and sixty degree turn before shouting.
“I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE SHOW YOU SICK FUCK BECAUSE I’M SURE RILEY DID!”
Stevens heads back towards his room as the camera fades on the image of the card on the coffee table.
Soon.