Post by Jman2k3 on Jul 1, 2018 0:40:32 GMT
Joe Hoffman: Alright folks, we’re all set to bring you the Solitary Confinement contest of the evening. In previous years, this contest had been used to determine the World Champion, and set us up with a list of highlights that we could probably dedicate a PPV to on their own. But tonight? It’s for the Tag Team Championships.
Benny Newell: Ya, so the level of mayhem should be the same, but we’re unlikely to see, y’know...things quite as bad as the main event.
Joe Hoffman: That remains to be seen. Either way, we have four teams in this contest - Rividwood, Ground Zero, being represented by McKenna and Stevens, as well as Farthington and Black, team BlackDick, and finally, Sex and Money, Noah Hanson and Brian Hollywood.
Benny Newell: Is this the time when I should be reminding you of Scott Stevens calling these World Championships?
Joe Hoffman: Probably. All four teams competed in the tag team tournament, though they all find themselves in this contest regardless of wh...
The sound of four cells opening is what heralds the start of this contest. Yup. No bell. It even cuts Joe Hoffman off, and stuns him into silence, it was that unexpected. But yeah. No ring bell.
Obviously.
Why would there be? You’re letting people out of Solitary Confinement cells that they’ve been locked up in for the last ten days or whatever it is...no point having a bell. Isn’t like they’ve been conditioned to wait for the bell before the violence starts, is it?
Oh no - wait - professional wrestlers.
Probably a bit of that in there, if we’re gonna be honest.
But still - there is no bell this time, and the mass of humanity that is the two members of Ground Zero and the alcoholics that are Rividwood find themselves outside of the cells, and looking for nothin’ but a good time!
(If the aforementioned good time involves a fuckton of brawling.)
So they’re throwing down, fist after fist coming, some even targeting their tag team partners, because, well, mayhem! Fucking mayhem! Scotty grabs hold of Stevens, and hurls him into one of the locked doors, and the Scorpion just slides down the motherfucker, seemingly not quite with it anymore. You’d figure that this would be a good opportunity for Rividwood to start double-teaming the members of Ground Zero, but it doesn’t really happen that way - because Scotty does turn to try and find McKenna and Rivid, but the two of them have seemingly disappeared from the immediate picture!
Joe Hoffman: Well, folks, I don’t think anyone wants to waste any time in this edition of Solitary Confinement!
Benny Newell: No fucking shit, Hoffman. You go get locked up for ten days and see if you can be fucked to put on an entertaining wrestling match, or if you just want to boot some dickhead in his fucking ballsack so you can win and go home already!
Joe Hoffman: Touche. I might even be tempted to...just lie down and hope that someone else wants it over as quickly as me.
Benny Newell: I doubt that’d work, Hoffhole - people want some fucking violence in this match, not some faggot deciding to lie down because he’s had enough!
We can hear Hoffman’s sigh of disappointment over the headset, as Scotty turns to Scott, who’s just about starting to get up. Woodson reaches down, looking for a handful of hair, but is met by a firm punch to the gut, doubling him over, which is about all the opportunity that one might need to get back to his feet. Grabbing a hold of Scotty’s dreadlocks, Stevens delivers a series of headbutts, before Scotty’s being more or less supported by his hair, and Stevens starts to drive his head repeatedly into a conveniently placed wall! The no-doubt vunerable scar tissue that is Scotty’s forehead quickly opens up, blood starting to spew out of some of the new holes that Scott Stevens has no doubt just made! Stevens lets him slide down to the floor, before he places a boot on the back of Scotty’s head and starts trying to rip a handful of his dreadlocks out of his head!
Benny Newell: Yeah! Give that motherfucker a haircut, Stevens!!!
Joe Hoffman: A haircut would involve blades, and I don’t think that the men inside Solitary are allowed blades, Benny…
Benny Newell: Like I give a fuck about those rules, Hoffman.
Meanwhile, a few feet away, just outside of the Solitary Confinement wing, McKenna and Rivid are going toe-to-toe! Or at least, toe-to-toe is what they would be doing, if they didn’t find themselves by the cart that was ferrying food in and out, and are thus beating each other over the head with whatever they can grab off the aforementioned cart. The walls of Alcatraz around the two men is splattered with gruel, and the flecks of red are not chilli sauce - oh no - some of it is blood, undoubtedly from somewhere on the two men that isn’t covered by food. Or maybe it’s from a spot underneath that - we have no idea! But it’s around this time that Rivid, having had enough of flinging slop at a man, grabs the cart and rams it into McKenna! The Scot clutches at his ribcage, before Rivid drives the cart again, shunting it into McKenna’s midsection, driving him up against the wall! With another push, he doubles McKenna over again, before his final shove with the cart crashes against ribcage with an almighty fucking crash, and the Scotsman finally crumples into a heap!
Joe Hoffman: Well, folks, if you were curious about the catering we provide to the men inside the cells here at Solitary Confinement, there’s examples of it pasted all over the walls just outside the Solitary wing…
Benny Newell: Looks like what I vomit up on a regular basis on a Monday fucking night, Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: Would it surprise you if that’s exactly what it was?
Benny Newell: Fuck no, Hoffman, it wouldn’t. But what I want to know, if that is the fucking case...is howcome these douchebags get that for free, yet whenever I want someone’s vomit chucked all over me, I have to pay for the fucking privilege?
Joe Hoffman: I do not think I have found a subject I want less to do with than this one…
Benny Newell: Fag.
Before Benny can elaborate further, or before, well, the camera finds any more action, the sounds of the locks sliding back on a further two of the solitary cells reverberates around the corridor, right around the time when Scott Stevens has a handful of Scottywood dreadlock and is celebrating, actually.
It’s a shame he is not afforded the opportunity to celebrate something that many people in High Octane Wrestling would celebrate - the removal of Scottywood’s “Hello, I’m the sixth member of KoRn” hairstyle - because the pair of wrestlers that constitute the team “BlackDick”, as they are popularly referred to emerge from their cells! Black takes a long look at Farthington, before he realises that well, he’s not meant to go after his tag team partner - so instead, the two of them grab hold of Scott Stevens and hurl him out of the way - Stevens flies back, momentarily confused, as BlackDick drag up Scotty, who gets woken up by this and starts firing away fists with his brawler’s instincts, and he actually floors Farthington with a wild right! David Black? Primarily a brawler.
So you know what happens when someone tries to brawl with a man who is primarily a brawler, right? He gets knocked the fuck down! But Scotty, somehow finds his way to his feet. (He’s obviously not Samson.) And the two of them commence the brawl, once more. Farthington seems a little confused about if he should go help his tag team partner or not, or if he should...well, you know. Escape! He seems caught in two minds, but we’re not going to watch Farthington be caught in two minds because we’re gonna change scene…
And we do exactly that, finding Rivid with a handful of McKenna’s hair, looking up and down a row of cells in General Population! He drags McKenna into the first one, and does, well...a very sorta former-jock thing - he dunks McKenna’s head into the toilet and proceeds to flush it! This wakes McKenna up, and the two start to brawl again, for a second time, without throwing crap that is occasionally called food at each other, and despite his size, despite winning the first issue between the two...Rivid finds himself on the wrong end of a Glaswegian reducer! Yes. That’s right. McKenna just kicked him square in the ballsack...before he DDT’s him straight through the toilet!
Joe Hoffman: Ryan McKenna may well have destroyed a piece of history right there, folks!
Benny Newell: Who gives a crap if Al Capone pissed in it? Not me! I’d rather watch some fucker get DDTed through the toilet before I’d hear about that one time when Capone was on that crapper for two fucking hours, Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: Touche.
Benny Newell: How long until the next bunch of fuckers come out, anyway?
Joe Hoffman: I don’t know, Benny - we weren’t provided with timings!
Benny Newell: Fucking typical. DRINK!
Farthington appears in the shot right as McKenna picks himself up off the floor, brushing away piece of porcelain, and, well, he charges at McKenna, spearing him into the concrete wall! Stuff goes flying off the nice, clean, example desk that they show the tourists, as McKenna attempts to turtle up, and Farthington keeps hurling blows!
Meanwhile, back in the corridor outside of the cells, Scottywood appears to have gotten a length of pipe from somewhere, and is violently swinging it at David Black, backing up the brawler, as Stevens gets to his feet right behind him! Scotty turns, hearing the noise, which is all that David Black needs in the way of an opportunity, as he quickly leaps, crashing into Scotty from behind, sending the length of pipe skittering away as the two of them start brawling on the floor! Stevens, who’s getting back up, grabs the length of pipe and just starts whacking away at the two of them, hitting whatever it is he can see!
And then? We hear the sounds of locks releasing for the final time!
Joe Hoffman: Here we go...we’re about to have all of the contestants out and released in this contest!
Benny Newell: Damn fucking right, Hoffman!
Sex And Money come charging out of their cells, right into the scene of Scott Stevens swinging relentlessly at the pair of Black and Scotty on the floor...so, y’know. Opportunity. Stevens quickly gets the opportunity to show that his head is Texas Tough, as Hollywood grabs hold of it and hurls him into one of the closed doors littering the Solitary wing, and Stevens? Well, he obliges us by leaving a huge dent in the door! Hanson grabs hold of Black, and the two freshest competitors in the contest immediately start working him over, before Hollywood continues on his little bit of initial momentum, grabbing the pipe and swinging it, connecting with jaw! Teeth fly out of Black’s mouth as blood starts to drip out of it, and it’s not long before Hollywood’s directing traffic, telling Hanson to go find out where the fuck everyone else is! Scotty’s the only one left who hasn’t been decimated by Hollywood’s initial burst of offence, and he starts to get back to his feet...but yeah.
Pipe.
Meet Face.
The Sequel.
Happens right then and there in the corridor, and just as quickly as he got back up, Scott Woodson goes back down.
And then we switch, again.
We switch to the sight of Farthington having McKenna up in the air, before he drives him down into the metal desk that they bolt to the floor! The table doesn’t break, obviously, instead just crumpling with a sickening sound of cracking and tearing! Rivid is slowly starting to pull himself up from the wreckage of the toilet, something that he’s probably more than used to doing from his days as a college football player in Texas, but he finds Farthington ready and waiting! They both start going at it in the small confines of the cell, Ryan McKenna’s probably corpse really not helping with the space issue, until Rivid spears him in the gut and carries him out into the wider atrium type space that has the cells lining the walls...and finds himself met by Noah Hanson, flying through the air!
Joe Hoffman: Brian Hollywood was going OFF, before we changed coverage….
Benny Newell: Ya, but that fucker has to go off, really - it’s the same for every dickhole that got stuck in this fucking match, Hoffman. You can either go off, or you’re probably gonna fucking lose. Duh.
Joe Hoffman: True enough, but he looked dominant when he emerged from that cell!
Benny Newell: Sure, and I looked dominant with my last hooker. Still doesn’t mean it didn’t end with a whimper.
Joe Hoffman: Not entirely sure I want to touch that one...
Hanson separates the two by virtue of putting his body in the way, and as Rivid gets back up and flies at him, he ducks out of the way, and him and Farthington come perilously close to toppling over the edge of the barricade to the concrete floor one storey below! Hanson feels like he just had a lucky escape, but goes after the two of them, looking to throw a few more fists of his own into the fray...
But we switch back into the corridor, as we can find that Brian Hollywood has managed to bust open a previously closed cell door with the assistance of Scott Stevens’ head, though he perhaps isn’t having the most fun time of it right at this second, because Stevens? Well, he isn’t particularly immobilized, and in an attempt to get himself back into the match, he’s hurled what was the bucket of shit and piss that some unfortunate occupant had been accumulating over the last week right into Hollywood’s face! Hollywood goes stumbling back, and Stevens sees the opportunity and charges at him but, instead of getting to do offence, he walks into a lead pipe swung like a baseball bat!!!
And then we’re greeted by the shot of Scottywood and David Black, who have somehow navigated their ways to the showers! They’re going at it in the crisply white tiled room, Scotty clearly with an advantage, and around about the time he slams Black’s head into the porcelain is around about the time he gets the advantage! He reaches up and rips a showerhead off, and starts trying to brain Black with the jagged, broken edge that he ripped!
Benny Newell: Yeah! That’s what I fucking want to see...someone get a sharp bit of fucking something jabbed in their heads so we can figure out if any of these motherfuckers actually have brains hidden inside those skulls, or if it’s all just some fucking bullshit propaganda!
Joe Hoffman: Benny, I think they HAVE to have brains. I think it’s a medical impossibility for them to NOT have a brain.
Benny Newell: Fucking bullshit, Hoffman! If you don’t have to have a brain, then how do you explain the fucking hundreds of assholes who have flaked on us and just generally are assholes?
Joe Hoffman: Good point...but perhaps their brains were just underdeveloped. And anyway, by your reasoning, David Black should have a brain - he’s a veteran and has been around for years.
Benny Newell: …...yeah. Anyway. DRINK!
Hanson looks at the still brawling Farthington and Rivid and remembers hearing something about some easy prey from before, and goes in search of Ryan McKenna. Who he finds, just about on his feet, at the cell door, coming to his senses! And right then and there, they go into it - fists. Feet. Heads. Everything and anything they have at their disposal is being chucked into battle as they throw down! McKenna pops up with a huge dropkick, sending Hanson flying into the guard rail! He leans against it, as McKenna again, delivers another dropkick, this one somehow managing to be even larger than the last one….Hanson tips, slowly….and for a moment, you wonder if he is going to careen down the one floor’s worth of air before he connects with concrete floor…
But this is Rumble At The Rock. So you know he does.
And then we go dual-screen, the other half being taken up by the sight of Brian Hollywood finishing up what appears to have been an absolutely brutal attack on Scott Stevens, Stevens face barely appearing to even be human anymore, so covered in bruises and blood it is. McKenna hops up onto the guardrail as Hollywood hurls away the pipe, looking to finish Stevens off...but Hollywood has to pick Stevens up. McKenna doesn’t have to pick Hanson up - so it’s McKenna who corkscrews through the twenty odd foot of air, smashing down into Hanson with the Supernova, right as Hollywood just about gets Stevens into position! McKenna starts to crawl back towards Hanson for the cover, as Hollywood’s boot snaps through the air...EXECUTIVE PROMISE!
Stevens falls, as McKenna drapes the arm...HOW Senior Referee Matt Boettcher seemingly slides in out of nowhere and starts the count…
One…..
And now Hollywood drops into a pinfall on Stevens, right around the time when Joel Hortega appears out of nowhere, because, fuck...there’s always a Mexican when you need one, right?
Uno…
Two….
Dos…..
Joe Hoffman: I think Hortega counts a little quicker than Boettcher...this could be close!!!
Three!!!!
Tres!!!
Through the PA system inside Alcatraz, McVay’s voice booms out.
Bryan McVay: Ryan McKenna has eliminated the team of Sex and Money!!!
Hollywood hears it, and immediately starts to argue with the officials about the call, but Hortega is resolute. He was eliminated before he made the pinfall!
Joe Hoffman: So close right there for Sex and Money, and Brian Hollywood specifically! Had he eliminated Scott Stevens….
Benny Newell: Then he would still be in the match. But he didn’t, did he? So now he’s all looking from the outside in and shit, and well, he’s out of the fucking match. Doesn’t matter if Hortega did count quicker, he didn’t count fucking quick enough to keep that motherfucker in the match.
Joe Hoffman: True enough! So, folks, six men still remain in this match - Ground Zero, Black Dick and Rividwood...
Benny Newell: I doubt for very long, Hoffman. All someone has to do is get near either of the Ground Zero members, and bam! Easy pin!
Joe Hoffman: True...McKenna’s Supernova move literally put it all on the line, and he looks in no condition to carry on, not with the beating his ribs have seemingly taken throughout this contest.
Benny Newell: Ya...and Hollywood did a fucking NUMBER on Scott Stevens. They’re elimination fodder right now, Hoffman.
Back up on the first floor, there’s still a brawl for the ages going on between Farthington and Rivid, though exactly where they are, we don’t really know. They’re inside some corridor, going back and forth as they slowly work their way up the corridor - and if we were to bet, they’re probably somewhere in the places where only the guards go. Rivid manages to find the upper hand and quickly grabs Farthington by his no-doubt expensive fancy English boy hairstyle and starts ramming the guy into a wooden door! The door eventually ends up being a frame, with a few other bits of fractured wood in the middle, so Rivid? Well, he does what all good Texans would do and helps Farthington through the door!
And back in the showers, it’s, well...it’s mayhem. There’s blood careening out of a large wound on the side of Black’s head, obviously made by the now discarded, snapped in two showerhead, as it’s almost like the two of them are taking turns to ram each other into the partition walls inside the showers! Blood is splattering all over the previously clinical white tiling, as the two greatest brawlers in the history of High Octane Wrestling go do what they do best - Brawl. And just as you think we’re going to see nothing more than some brawling, David Black pops up out of nowhere with a Blackout! Both men just lie there, both trying to find some final, hidden reservoir of strength to draw upon…
Joe Hoffman: I think most of the competitors in this match have given almost everything they have, Benny!
Benny Newell: Fucking DUH, Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: I honestly cannot remember the last time we had a group of wrestlers who cared this much about the Tag Team Championships!
Benny Newell: Heh, maybe they’re all fucking deluded like Stevens and think that they are World Championships! DRINK!
And speaking of Scott Stevens...he now stands in the entryway for the showers, his mangled face looking like it’s come straight out of a horror movie, as he clutches the piece of pipe that no doubt still has some of his facial matter attached to the end of it! Black’s the first up, and charges at the Texan, but it’s a swing that Yasiel Puig would be proud of that meets him right on the same spot that Scotty had been working over with the showerhead!
Black slumps to the floor with a spray of blood, as Stevens starts to hammer the pipe up and down, mechanically, on complete and total autopilot, as Scott Woodson finally gets to his feet, and remembers - yes, he remembers.
Scott Stevens removed some of his precious dreadlocks.
So with Stevens locked in on Black, he senses opportunity. And he charges at Stevens, missing the swing of the pipe aimed at Black as he drives him into the wall! He starts swinging away like a motherfucker - not that he particularly needed to because the very first fist that connected with Stevens face seemed to wake up a whole fucking world of pain in the Scorpion’s face! Stevens drops his lead pipe, but Scotty, he seems determined to finish the work that Hollywood started, firing away with fist after fist! He turns away from Stevens for a second to look at Black, and somehow, someway, Stevens gets one final burst of energy, charging straight at Scottywood and unleashing such a series of fists that Scotty ends up just trying to take as many of the hits on his back as possible...Stevens keeps firing away…
But Scotty picks him up and charges headfirst at one of the partition walls, spearing Stevens through it, sending porcelain, brick and piping all over the shop, as water gouts up through the broken pipes, as if Alcatraz is a sentient being and is trying to clean it’s own shower room. (It’s not.)
Scotty somehow landed with one arm across Stevens’ mutilated body, and so when Boettcher slides in for the count, you know it’s already academic….
One….
Two……
Three!!!!
Bryan McVay: The team of Ryan McKenna and Scott Stevens has been eliminated!!!
We have a quick shot of Ryan McKenna upon hearing this confirmation, but the Scotsman is still barely moving after his overly athletic endeavours earlier in the contest.
Joe Hoffman: That’s it, folks - final two teams! We’re about to crown new Tag Team Champions!
Benny Newell: And if I was a fucking betting man, I reckon it’s gonna be down to Farthington and Rivid!
Joe Hoffman: That would be the obvious answer, but it could come down to Scottywood and David Black…
Benny Newell: Black looks unconscious, and Scottywood, with his wealth of fucking common sense, just put himself through a wall. I think this is coming down to Farthington and Rivid, Hoffman.
Indeed, Scotty is barely moving in the showers - but David Black...he is starting to stir. Slowly.
But we change camera shot back up to somewhere inside Alcatraz’s depths, where Rivid and Farthington appear to be brawling all over what appears to be a room for the guards - Rivid has a pen sticking out of his hand, but that doesn’t seem to even be the slightest bit of an issue for him, as right now, he appears to be trying to do his level best to staple Farthington’s mouth shut! The landed member of the gentry, who’s probably mates with Boris Johnson isn’t particularly enthused by this idea, and is scrabbling around the desk, coming up with many objects which would not be of very much help - until he finds a pencil which he drives into Rivid’s hand, right next to the pen! There’s a very un-manly squeal of pain that starts when the pencil enters hand, and gets louder as Reginald starts to move the two writing implements around, doing what he would consider to be a sterling effort in the endeavour of fucking up the ligaments inside Rivid’s hand!
In the showers, however, Black has gotten up. And is holding the showerhead in one hand. And, naturally, he’s looking over to Scottywood with nothing but bad intentions. Indeed, he stalks over to the large, oversized Hardcore Artist, and with absolutely no artistry of his own, with no thoughts of mercy, or anything but some fucking payback, he drives the sharpened end of the showerhead right into Scottywood’s thigh! Scotty’s jeans almost immediately go dark with blood as he screams out, and Black starts hollering at him to get back up and fucking do something!
But it might not even matter! Rivid has Farthington on the retreat up in the breakroom, Farthington scooting away on his arse, trying to get away from the now seriously pissed off Texan! A slice of good luck falls his way though, because he knocks into a cupboard that creaks open, revealing a few shotguns...he quickly grabs one, and leaps to his feet, pumping it as he does so - those many hours hunting pheasant on the Farthington estate obviously making it second nature, and he fires! Rivid crashes to the floor, though, HOW viewer, you might be relieved to know that it was nothing more than a beanbag round at close range! Rivid probably has fucked up ribs beyond belief now, but nothing more. Farthington pumps a few more rounds into Rivid, until the shotgun is empty…
And back in the showers, the pain of the showerhead woke Scotty up and it’s right at this point where he is attempting to throw Black through a window...but his leg keeps giving out on him, and the two of them just end up in a pile of humanity!
Farthington though? That upper class heritage is showing through right now. Showing it’s handiness in life or death situations, because Reginald Rivid’s head has become a golfball, and he is swinging away with the stock of the shotgun! He keeps going until he feels that there’s no movement forthcoming from Rivid, before he drops all of his weight down onto Rivid’s almost-corpse…
Boettcher appears in frame, tossing the iPad that was alerting him to pinfall attempts away and slides in for the count….
One…..
Two…….
Three!!!
Bryan McVay: The team of Reggie Rivid and Scottywood have been eliminated...and so, your NEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW HIGH OCTANE WRESTLING TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS…..REGINALD FARTHINGTON AND DAVID BLACK!!!!!!!
Joe Hoffman: Wow...Farthington pulls it out for his team!
Benny Newell: Damn straight, Hoffman. I’m sure that somewhere right now, fucking Dickwood is popping a boner the size of Scotland.
Joe Hoffman: I’m not sure that is physically possible, Benny. But I’m sure he’s very happy with the result - and I don’t know about you, but I thought we were about to see the first killing of a man with a shotgun on HOW programming for a moment right there…
Benny Newell: And wouldn’t it have been fucking AWESOME if we had? So close, Hoffman. So fucking close.
Joe Hoffman: I don’t know about awesome, but it would have been an experience to remember. Anyway, folks, we can hang around here talking about this contest, or we can get on with the next one. I don’t know about you, but we have a packed show, and I’d like to get on with things…
Benny Newell: Ya, so the level of mayhem should be the same, but we’re unlikely to see, y’know...things quite as bad as the main event.
Joe Hoffman: That remains to be seen. Either way, we have four teams in this contest - Rividwood, Ground Zero, being represented by McKenna and Stevens, as well as Farthington and Black, team BlackDick, and finally, Sex and Money, Noah Hanson and Brian Hollywood.
Benny Newell: Is this the time when I should be reminding you of Scott Stevens calling these World Championships?
Joe Hoffman: Probably. All four teams competed in the tag team tournament, though they all find themselves in this contest regardless of wh...
The sound of four cells opening is what heralds the start of this contest. Yup. No bell. It even cuts Joe Hoffman off, and stuns him into silence, it was that unexpected. But yeah. No ring bell.
Obviously.
Why would there be? You’re letting people out of Solitary Confinement cells that they’ve been locked up in for the last ten days or whatever it is...no point having a bell. Isn’t like they’ve been conditioned to wait for the bell before the violence starts, is it?
Oh no - wait - professional wrestlers.
Probably a bit of that in there, if we’re gonna be honest.
But still - there is no bell this time, and the mass of humanity that is the two members of Ground Zero and the alcoholics that are Rividwood find themselves outside of the cells, and looking for nothin’ but a good time!
(If the aforementioned good time involves a fuckton of brawling.)
So they’re throwing down, fist after fist coming, some even targeting their tag team partners, because, well, mayhem! Fucking mayhem! Scotty grabs hold of Stevens, and hurls him into one of the locked doors, and the Scorpion just slides down the motherfucker, seemingly not quite with it anymore. You’d figure that this would be a good opportunity for Rividwood to start double-teaming the members of Ground Zero, but it doesn’t really happen that way - because Scotty does turn to try and find McKenna and Rivid, but the two of them have seemingly disappeared from the immediate picture!
Joe Hoffman: Well, folks, I don’t think anyone wants to waste any time in this edition of Solitary Confinement!
Benny Newell: No fucking shit, Hoffman. You go get locked up for ten days and see if you can be fucked to put on an entertaining wrestling match, or if you just want to boot some dickhead in his fucking ballsack so you can win and go home already!
Joe Hoffman: Touche. I might even be tempted to...just lie down and hope that someone else wants it over as quickly as me.
Benny Newell: I doubt that’d work, Hoffhole - people want some fucking violence in this match, not some faggot deciding to lie down because he’s had enough!
We can hear Hoffman’s sigh of disappointment over the headset, as Scotty turns to Scott, who’s just about starting to get up. Woodson reaches down, looking for a handful of hair, but is met by a firm punch to the gut, doubling him over, which is about all the opportunity that one might need to get back to his feet. Grabbing a hold of Scotty’s dreadlocks, Stevens delivers a series of headbutts, before Scotty’s being more or less supported by his hair, and Stevens starts to drive his head repeatedly into a conveniently placed wall! The no-doubt vunerable scar tissue that is Scotty’s forehead quickly opens up, blood starting to spew out of some of the new holes that Scott Stevens has no doubt just made! Stevens lets him slide down to the floor, before he places a boot on the back of Scotty’s head and starts trying to rip a handful of his dreadlocks out of his head!
Benny Newell: Yeah! Give that motherfucker a haircut, Stevens!!!
Joe Hoffman: A haircut would involve blades, and I don’t think that the men inside Solitary are allowed blades, Benny…
Benny Newell: Like I give a fuck about those rules, Hoffman.
Meanwhile, a few feet away, just outside of the Solitary Confinement wing, McKenna and Rivid are going toe-to-toe! Or at least, toe-to-toe is what they would be doing, if they didn’t find themselves by the cart that was ferrying food in and out, and are thus beating each other over the head with whatever they can grab off the aforementioned cart. The walls of Alcatraz around the two men is splattered with gruel, and the flecks of red are not chilli sauce - oh no - some of it is blood, undoubtedly from somewhere on the two men that isn’t covered by food. Or maybe it’s from a spot underneath that - we have no idea! But it’s around this time that Rivid, having had enough of flinging slop at a man, grabs the cart and rams it into McKenna! The Scot clutches at his ribcage, before Rivid drives the cart again, shunting it into McKenna’s midsection, driving him up against the wall! With another push, he doubles McKenna over again, before his final shove with the cart crashes against ribcage with an almighty fucking crash, and the Scotsman finally crumples into a heap!
Joe Hoffman: Well, folks, if you were curious about the catering we provide to the men inside the cells here at Solitary Confinement, there’s examples of it pasted all over the walls just outside the Solitary wing…
Benny Newell: Looks like what I vomit up on a regular basis on a Monday fucking night, Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: Would it surprise you if that’s exactly what it was?
Benny Newell: Fuck no, Hoffman, it wouldn’t. But what I want to know, if that is the fucking case...is howcome these douchebags get that for free, yet whenever I want someone’s vomit chucked all over me, I have to pay for the fucking privilege?
Joe Hoffman: I do not think I have found a subject I want less to do with than this one…
Benny Newell: Fag.
Before Benny can elaborate further, or before, well, the camera finds any more action, the sounds of the locks sliding back on a further two of the solitary cells reverberates around the corridor, right around the time when Scott Stevens has a handful of Scottywood dreadlock and is celebrating, actually.
It’s a shame he is not afforded the opportunity to celebrate something that many people in High Octane Wrestling would celebrate - the removal of Scottywood’s “Hello, I’m the sixth member of KoRn” hairstyle - because the pair of wrestlers that constitute the team “BlackDick”, as they are popularly referred to emerge from their cells! Black takes a long look at Farthington, before he realises that well, he’s not meant to go after his tag team partner - so instead, the two of them grab hold of Scott Stevens and hurl him out of the way - Stevens flies back, momentarily confused, as BlackDick drag up Scotty, who gets woken up by this and starts firing away fists with his brawler’s instincts, and he actually floors Farthington with a wild right! David Black? Primarily a brawler.
So you know what happens when someone tries to brawl with a man who is primarily a brawler, right? He gets knocked the fuck down! But Scotty, somehow finds his way to his feet. (He’s obviously not Samson.) And the two of them commence the brawl, once more. Farthington seems a little confused about if he should go help his tag team partner or not, or if he should...well, you know. Escape! He seems caught in two minds, but we’re not going to watch Farthington be caught in two minds because we’re gonna change scene…
And we do exactly that, finding Rivid with a handful of McKenna’s hair, looking up and down a row of cells in General Population! He drags McKenna into the first one, and does, well...a very sorta former-jock thing - he dunks McKenna’s head into the toilet and proceeds to flush it! This wakes McKenna up, and the two start to brawl again, for a second time, without throwing crap that is occasionally called food at each other, and despite his size, despite winning the first issue between the two...Rivid finds himself on the wrong end of a Glaswegian reducer! Yes. That’s right. McKenna just kicked him square in the ballsack...before he DDT’s him straight through the toilet!
Joe Hoffman: Ryan McKenna may well have destroyed a piece of history right there, folks!
Benny Newell: Who gives a crap if Al Capone pissed in it? Not me! I’d rather watch some fucker get DDTed through the toilet before I’d hear about that one time when Capone was on that crapper for two fucking hours, Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: Touche.
Benny Newell: How long until the next bunch of fuckers come out, anyway?
Joe Hoffman: I don’t know, Benny - we weren’t provided with timings!
Benny Newell: Fucking typical. DRINK!
Farthington appears in the shot right as McKenna picks himself up off the floor, brushing away piece of porcelain, and, well, he charges at McKenna, spearing him into the concrete wall! Stuff goes flying off the nice, clean, example desk that they show the tourists, as McKenna attempts to turtle up, and Farthington keeps hurling blows!
Meanwhile, back in the corridor outside of the cells, Scottywood appears to have gotten a length of pipe from somewhere, and is violently swinging it at David Black, backing up the brawler, as Stevens gets to his feet right behind him! Scotty turns, hearing the noise, which is all that David Black needs in the way of an opportunity, as he quickly leaps, crashing into Scotty from behind, sending the length of pipe skittering away as the two of them start brawling on the floor! Stevens, who’s getting back up, grabs the length of pipe and just starts whacking away at the two of them, hitting whatever it is he can see!
And then? We hear the sounds of locks releasing for the final time!
Joe Hoffman: Here we go...we’re about to have all of the contestants out and released in this contest!
Benny Newell: Damn fucking right, Hoffman!
Sex And Money come charging out of their cells, right into the scene of Scott Stevens swinging relentlessly at the pair of Black and Scotty on the floor...so, y’know. Opportunity. Stevens quickly gets the opportunity to show that his head is Texas Tough, as Hollywood grabs hold of it and hurls him into one of the closed doors littering the Solitary wing, and Stevens? Well, he obliges us by leaving a huge dent in the door! Hanson grabs hold of Black, and the two freshest competitors in the contest immediately start working him over, before Hollywood continues on his little bit of initial momentum, grabbing the pipe and swinging it, connecting with jaw! Teeth fly out of Black’s mouth as blood starts to drip out of it, and it’s not long before Hollywood’s directing traffic, telling Hanson to go find out where the fuck everyone else is! Scotty’s the only one left who hasn’t been decimated by Hollywood’s initial burst of offence, and he starts to get back to his feet...but yeah.
Pipe.
Meet Face.
The Sequel.
Happens right then and there in the corridor, and just as quickly as he got back up, Scott Woodson goes back down.
And then we switch, again.
We switch to the sight of Farthington having McKenna up in the air, before he drives him down into the metal desk that they bolt to the floor! The table doesn’t break, obviously, instead just crumpling with a sickening sound of cracking and tearing! Rivid is slowly starting to pull himself up from the wreckage of the toilet, something that he’s probably more than used to doing from his days as a college football player in Texas, but he finds Farthington ready and waiting! They both start going at it in the small confines of the cell, Ryan McKenna’s probably corpse really not helping with the space issue, until Rivid spears him in the gut and carries him out into the wider atrium type space that has the cells lining the walls...and finds himself met by Noah Hanson, flying through the air!
Joe Hoffman: Brian Hollywood was going OFF, before we changed coverage….
Benny Newell: Ya, but that fucker has to go off, really - it’s the same for every dickhole that got stuck in this fucking match, Hoffman. You can either go off, or you’re probably gonna fucking lose. Duh.
Joe Hoffman: True enough, but he looked dominant when he emerged from that cell!
Benny Newell: Sure, and I looked dominant with my last hooker. Still doesn’t mean it didn’t end with a whimper.
Joe Hoffman: Not entirely sure I want to touch that one...
Hanson separates the two by virtue of putting his body in the way, and as Rivid gets back up and flies at him, he ducks out of the way, and him and Farthington come perilously close to toppling over the edge of the barricade to the concrete floor one storey below! Hanson feels like he just had a lucky escape, but goes after the two of them, looking to throw a few more fists of his own into the fray...
But we switch back into the corridor, as we can find that Brian Hollywood has managed to bust open a previously closed cell door with the assistance of Scott Stevens’ head, though he perhaps isn’t having the most fun time of it right at this second, because Stevens? Well, he isn’t particularly immobilized, and in an attempt to get himself back into the match, he’s hurled what was the bucket of shit and piss that some unfortunate occupant had been accumulating over the last week right into Hollywood’s face! Hollywood goes stumbling back, and Stevens sees the opportunity and charges at him but, instead of getting to do offence, he walks into a lead pipe swung like a baseball bat!!!
And then we’re greeted by the shot of Scottywood and David Black, who have somehow navigated their ways to the showers! They’re going at it in the crisply white tiled room, Scotty clearly with an advantage, and around about the time he slams Black’s head into the porcelain is around about the time he gets the advantage! He reaches up and rips a showerhead off, and starts trying to brain Black with the jagged, broken edge that he ripped!
Benny Newell: Yeah! That’s what I fucking want to see...someone get a sharp bit of fucking something jabbed in their heads so we can figure out if any of these motherfuckers actually have brains hidden inside those skulls, or if it’s all just some fucking bullshit propaganda!
Joe Hoffman: Benny, I think they HAVE to have brains. I think it’s a medical impossibility for them to NOT have a brain.
Benny Newell: Fucking bullshit, Hoffman! If you don’t have to have a brain, then how do you explain the fucking hundreds of assholes who have flaked on us and just generally are assholes?
Joe Hoffman: Good point...but perhaps their brains were just underdeveloped. And anyway, by your reasoning, David Black should have a brain - he’s a veteran and has been around for years.
Benny Newell: …...yeah. Anyway. DRINK!
Hanson looks at the still brawling Farthington and Rivid and remembers hearing something about some easy prey from before, and goes in search of Ryan McKenna. Who he finds, just about on his feet, at the cell door, coming to his senses! And right then and there, they go into it - fists. Feet. Heads. Everything and anything they have at their disposal is being chucked into battle as they throw down! McKenna pops up with a huge dropkick, sending Hanson flying into the guard rail! He leans against it, as McKenna again, delivers another dropkick, this one somehow managing to be even larger than the last one….Hanson tips, slowly….and for a moment, you wonder if he is going to careen down the one floor’s worth of air before he connects with concrete floor…
But this is Rumble At The Rock. So you know he does.
And then we go dual-screen, the other half being taken up by the sight of Brian Hollywood finishing up what appears to have been an absolutely brutal attack on Scott Stevens, Stevens face barely appearing to even be human anymore, so covered in bruises and blood it is. McKenna hops up onto the guardrail as Hollywood hurls away the pipe, looking to finish Stevens off...but Hollywood has to pick Stevens up. McKenna doesn’t have to pick Hanson up - so it’s McKenna who corkscrews through the twenty odd foot of air, smashing down into Hanson with the Supernova, right as Hollywood just about gets Stevens into position! McKenna starts to crawl back towards Hanson for the cover, as Hollywood’s boot snaps through the air...EXECUTIVE PROMISE!
Stevens falls, as McKenna drapes the arm...HOW Senior Referee Matt Boettcher seemingly slides in out of nowhere and starts the count…
One…..
And now Hollywood drops into a pinfall on Stevens, right around the time when Joel Hortega appears out of nowhere, because, fuck...there’s always a Mexican when you need one, right?
Uno…
Two….
Dos…..
Joe Hoffman: I think Hortega counts a little quicker than Boettcher...this could be close!!!
Three!!!!
Tres!!!
Through the PA system inside Alcatraz, McVay’s voice booms out.
Bryan McVay: Ryan McKenna has eliminated the team of Sex and Money!!!
Hollywood hears it, and immediately starts to argue with the officials about the call, but Hortega is resolute. He was eliminated before he made the pinfall!
Joe Hoffman: So close right there for Sex and Money, and Brian Hollywood specifically! Had he eliminated Scott Stevens….
Benny Newell: Then he would still be in the match. But he didn’t, did he? So now he’s all looking from the outside in and shit, and well, he’s out of the fucking match. Doesn’t matter if Hortega did count quicker, he didn’t count fucking quick enough to keep that motherfucker in the match.
Joe Hoffman: True enough! So, folks, six men still remain in this match - Ground Zero, Black Dick and Rividwood...
Benny Newell: I doubt for very long, Hoffman. All someone has to do is get near either of the Ground Zero members, and bam! Easy pin!
Joe Hoffman: True...McKenna’s Supernova move literally put it all on the line, and he looks in no condition to carry on, not with the beating his ribs have seemingly taken throughout this contest.
Benny Newell: Ya...and Hollywood did a fucking NUMBER on Scott Stevens. They’re elimination fodder right now, Hoffman.
Back up on the first floor, there’s still a brawl for the ages going on between Farthington and Rivid, though exactly where they are, we don’t really know. They’re inside some corridor, going back and forth as they slowly work their way up the corridor - and if we were to bet, they’re probably somewhere in the places where only the guards go. Rivid manages to find the upper hand and quickly grabs Farthington by his no-doubt expensive fancy English boy hairstyle and starts ramming the guy into a wooden door! The door eventually ends up being a frame, with a few other bits of fractured wood in the middle, so Rivid? Well, he does what all good Texans would do and helps Farthington through the door!
And back in the showers, it’s, well...it’s mayhem. There’s blood careening out of a large wound on the side of Black’s head, obviously made by the now discarded, snapped in two showerhead, as it’s almost like the two of them are taking turns to ram each other into the partition walls inside the showers! Blood is splattering all over the previously clinical white tiling, as the two greatest brawlers in the history of High Octane Wrestling go do what they do best - Brawl. And just as you think we’re going to see nothing more than some brawling, David Black pops up out of nowhere with a Blackout! Both men just lie there, both trying to find some final, hidden reservoir of strength to draw upon…
Joe Hoffman: I think most of the competitors in this match have given almost everything they have, Benny!
Benny Newell: Fucking DUH, Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: I honestly cannot remember the last time we had a group of wrestlers who cared this much about the Tag Team Championships!
Benny Newell: Heh, maybe they’re all fucking deluded like Stevens and think that they are World Championships! DRINK!
And speaking of Scott Stevens...he now stands in the entryway for the showers, his mangled face looking like it’s come straight out of a horror movie, as he clutches the piece of pipe that no doubt still has some of his facial matter attached to the end of it! Black’s the first up, and charges at the Texan, but it’s a swing that Yasiel Puig would be proud of that meets him right on the same spot that Scotty had been working over with the showerhead!
Black slumps to the floor with a spray of blood, as Stevens starts to hammer the pipe up and down, mechanically, on complete and total autopilot, as Scott Woodson finally gets to his feet, and remembers - yes, he remembers.
Scott Stevens removed some of his precious dreadlocks.
So with Stevens locked in on Black, he senses opportunity. And he charges at Stevens, missing the swing of the pipe aimed at Black as he drives him into the wall! He starts swinging away like a motherfucker - not that he particularly needed to because the very first fist that connected with Stevens face seemed to wake up a whole fucking world of pain in the Scorpion’s face! Stevens drops his lead pipe, but Scotty, he seems determined to finish the work that Hollywood started, firing away with fist after fist! He turns away from Stevens for a second to look at Black, and somehow, someway, Stevens gets one final burst of energy, charging straight at Scottywood and unleashing such a series of fists that Scotty ends up just trying to take as many of the hits on his back as possible...Stevens keeps firing away…
But Scotty picks him up and charges headfirst at one of the partition walls, spearing Stevens through it, sending porcelain, brick and piping all over the shop, as water gouts up through the broken pipes, as if Alcatraz is a sentient being and is trying to clean it’s own shower room. (It’s not.)
Scotty somehow landed with one arm across Stevens’ mutilated body, and so when Boettcher slides in for the count, you know it’s already academic….
One….
Two……
Three!!!!
Bryan McVay: The team of Ryan McKenna and Scott Stevens has been eliminated!!!
We have a quick shot of Ryan McKenna upon hearing this confirmation, but the Scotsman is still barely moving after his overly athletic endeavours earlier in the contest.
Joe Hoffman: That’s it, folks - final two teams! We’re about to crown new Tag Team Champions!
Benny Newell: And if I was a fucking betting man, I reckon it’s gonna be down to Farthington and Rivid!
Joe Hoffman: That would be the obvious answer, but it could come down to Scottywood and David Black…
Benny Newell: Black looks unconscious, and Scottywood, with his wealth of fucking common sense, just put himself through a wall. I think this is coming down to Farthington and Rivid, Hoffman.
Indeed, Scotty is barely moving in the showers - but David Black...he is starting to stir. Slowly.
But we change camera shot back up to somewhere inside Alcatraz’s depths, where Rivid and Farthington appear to be brawling all over what appears to be a room for the guards - Rivid has a pen sticking out of his hand, but that doesn’t seem to even be the slightest bit of an issue for him, as right now, he appears to be trying to do his level best to staple Farthington’s mouth shut! The landed member of the gentry, who’s probably mates with Boris Johnson isn’t particularly enthused by this idea, and is scrabbling around the desk, coming up with many objects which would not be of very much help - until he finds a pencil which he drives into Rivid’s hand, right next to the pen! There’s a very un-manly squeal of pain that starts when the pencil enters hand, and gets louder as Reginald starts to move the two writing implements around, doing what he would consider to be a sterling effort in the endeavour of fucking up the ligaments inside Rivid’s hand!
In the showers, however, Black has gotten up. And is holding the showerhead in one hand. And, naturally, he’s looking over to Scottywood with nothing but bad intentions. Indeed, he stalks over to the large, oversized Hardcore Artist, and with absolutely no artistry of his own, with no thoughts of mercy, or anything but some fucking payback, he drives the sharpened end of the showerhead right into Scottywood’s thigh! Scotty’s jeans almost immediately go dark with blood as he screams out, and Black starts hollering at him to get back up and fucking do something!
But it might not even matter! Rivid has Farthington on the retreat up in the breakroom, Farthington scooting away on his arse, trying to get away from the now seriously pissed off Texan! A slice of good luck falls his way though, because he knocks into a cupboard that creaks open, revealing a few shotguns...he quickly grabs one, and leaps to his feet, pumping it as he does so - those many hours hunting pheasant on the Farthington estate obviously making it second nature, and he fires! Rivid crashes to the floor, though, HOW viewer, you might be relieved to know that it was nothing more than a beanbag round at close range! Rivid probably has fucked up ribs beyond belief now, but nothing more. Farthington pumps a few more rounds into Rivid, until the shotgun is empty…
And back in the showers, the pain of the showerhead woke Scotty up and it’s right at this point where he is attempting to throw Black through a window...but his leg keeps giving out on him, and the two of them just end up in a pile of humanity!
Farthington though? That upper class heritage is showing through right now. Showing it’s handiness in life or death situations, because Reginald Rivid’s head has become a golfball, and he is swinging away with the stock of the shotgun! He keeps going until he feels that there’s no movement forthcoming from Rivid, before he drops all of his weight down onto Rivid’s almost-corpse…
Boettcher appears in frame, tossing the iPad that was alerting him to pinfall attempts away and slides in for the count….
One…..
Two…….
Three!!!
Bryan McVay: The team of Reggie Rivid and Scottywood have been eliminated...and so, your NEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW HIGH OCTANE WRESTLING TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS…..REGINALD FARTHINGTON AND DAVID BLACK!!!!!!!
Joe Hoffman: Wow...Farthington pulls it out for his team!
Benny Newell: Damn straight, Hoffman. I’m sure that somewhere right now, fucking Dickwood is popping a boner the size of Scotland.
Joe Hoffman: I’m not sure that is physically possible, Benny. But I’m sure he’s very happy with the result - and I don’t know about you, but I thought we were about to see the first killing of a man with a shotgun on HOW programming for a moment right there…
Benny Newell: And wouldn’t it have been fucking AWESOME if we had? So close, Hoffman. So fucking close.
Joe Hoffman: I don’t know about awesome, but it would have been an experience to remember. Anyway, folks, we can hang around here talking about this contest, or we can get on with the next one. I don’t know about you, but we have a packed show, and I’d like to get on with things…