Post by Jman2k3 on Jun 11, 2018 17:42:51 GMT
Joe Hoffman: Alright, folks, it’s time for the ICON Championship match!
Benny Newell: Aww yeah...I’m fucking ready for this one, Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: Oh yeah, Benny, I think everyone is. A true homegrown High Octane Wrestling talent, a man who has never wrestled anywhere but High Octane Wrestling, Rhys Townsend, takes on a man who has a storied history in many different federations - Championships, Hall of Fame spots, you name it - he’s done it, in “The Scorpion” Scott Stevens.
Benny Newell: What he is is a Fisher Price faggot, Hoffman. He signs a contract with us - comes here and wrestles for us more often than he does anywhere else, but does he bow down to God, does he parade himself around as the thing he should parade himself around as, as a High Octane Wrestler? Fuck no! He shoves some shitty dead fed down our throats until we fucking puke it up into the toilet bowl it belongs in!
Joe Hoffman: Well, Stevens is obviously proud of his storied history - and has said that he made his return to professional wrestling after a number of years of absence to help out Legacy Pro Wrestling.
Benny Newell: Yeah. What a fag.
Joe Hoffman: Anyway, the history of this match goes back past the issue the two wrestlers have with each other, reaching back a number of months to the time when Scott Stevens took it upon himself to throw Lee Best off the stage. Naturally, Lee wasn’t happy...
Benny Newell: Because dudes just love getting hurled off stage! Hell, I pay small Asian hookers to do it to me!
Joe Hoffman: That’s....disturbing, Benny.
Benny Newell: Sarcasm, Hoffhole - look it up sometime.
Joe Hoffman: Noted. Stevens throwing Lee off the stage wasn’t just an isolated incident - it grew out of heat between Stevens and Lee’s now estranged son, Michael. However, Rhys Townsend joined the Best Alliance and began to show us a new side - a side that quite simply, wants to create destruction. He first came across Scott Stevens in a singles match, before Rumble at the Rock, and in what was perhaps a shock at the time, suffered defeat. But the issue just grew from there. In Solitary Confinement, presented with the opportunity to do some damage, Rhys repeatedly smashed Stevens’ face off a concrete wall, much the way he had done to Silent Witness just a few months prior.
Benny Newell: Yeah, Townsend smashed the shit out of his face. It was great!
Joe Hoffman: I doubt Stevens agrees with you, Benny.
Benny Newell: Does it look like I give a fuck about what Stevens thinks?
Joe Hoffman: Right. However, that wasn’t enough to put Stevens down - he was immediately firing away at Townsend on social media, the two wrestlers trading barbs back and forth. Stevens was then presented with the opportunity to take on Townsend’s newfound Best Alliance stablemate, Scottywood, for the HOW ICON Championship - and won.
Benny Newell: Still not convinced by the refereeing in that contest. But whatever. What happened after that, because I know that Hoffman’s going to blab on and on and on about it and make it sound real fucking boring was greatness - Townsend showed exactly how much better than Stevens he is by showing off some of his many talents. Ticket scalping, nacho sales, commentary, refereeing...he’s a modern day renaissance man, Hoffman! He can do it all!
Joe Hoffman: And Stevens, naturally, took exception to that.
Benny Newell: Duh. And see, Hoffman, you totally missed out the part where Townsend and Scottywood signed the contract for this match with Stevens’ own blood, before Rhys stabbed the contract into his forehead with a syringe!
Joe Hoffman: Well, I, uhh...
Benny Newell: Hah! Mr. Professionalism made a slip on the biggest night of the year!
Joe Hoffman: Of course, you might be saying - if Scottywood signed the contract, howcome he isn’t in this match? Well, folks, Lee Best pulled him out, saying that he has a more important project for Scotty to be dealing with.
Benny Newell: Why’d you need two Best Alliance members in this match? You’ve got Townsend. Two years, both with more than twenty wins - that’s a record. And do you know what else, Hoffman?
Joe Hoffman: Are you about to give me another Townsend stat, Benny?
Benny Newell: Oh yeah, I am. Mostly because I know this means something to that high motherfucker - six hundred and forty one days. That’s how long it’s been since Rhys has wrestled on PPV and not main evented. Tell me that’s not impressive.
Joe Hoffman: It is, certainly. But I’d like to remind you that he hasn’t won a single one of those matches...
Benny Newell: Fuck you, Hoffman. Always pissing on my parade...
Joe Hoffman: I just felt like there was a facet you’d missed, so I felt like I ought to illuminate the viewing audience. Anyway, this match was made a ladder match by General Manager Scottywood on the last show...so you can be sure that this is going to be nothing short of all out war! Let’s stop yapping and hand it over to Bryan McVay!
The camera moves away from our commentary duo, showcasing the ICON Championship, suspended a good twenty foot above the ring, gleaming in the lights of the Best Arena. McVay is stood below the Championship belt, ready to begin the introductions.
Bryan McVay: The following contest is a Ladder Match and is for the High Octane Wrestling ICON Championship!
Sylosis’ All Is Not Well thunders out from the Best Arena’s soundsystem, heralding the arrival of Rhys Townsend, who appears at the top of the ramp.
Bryan McVay: Introducing first, he is the challenger! Representing the Best Alliance, he comes to us from Chicago, Illinois and weighed in at two hundred fifty one pounds, this is RHYSSSSSSSSS TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWNSEEEEEEENDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Townsend pays absolutely no attention to the fans or anyone else as he strides towards the ring, his face all business as he travels down the ramp.
Benny Newell: See that, Hoffman? That’s our next ICON Champion!
Joe Hoffman: I don’t know, Benny...I think you might be underestimating Stevens just a little right there.
Benny Newell: Pah. Bullshit - complete bullshit! Townsend’s gonna smash his face, just watch. DRINK!
Bryan McVay: And his opponent...
The lights in the arena go pitch black, as red lasers and spotlights light up the area. The video screen lights up and flashes across the screen, "Nothing survives my sting!" The crowd starts booing,but it’s not just a wrestling booing. It’s a booing of pure hatred. Chris Benoit level booing as Dave Mustaine's voice echoes throughout the arena, "I am the Scorpion, whoa!" The jeering intensifies as a mash-up of "I Stand Alone" and "Amazing" hits the speakers, drawing out the reigning High Octane Wrestling Icon champion.
Bryan McVay: He is the Champion! He hails from Houston, Texas, and weighed in at two hundred fifty six pounds and he is the reigning, defending High Octane Wrestling ICON Champion....”THE SCORPION” SCOTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNNNNSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Stevens doesn’t continue with his usual charade during the entrance, not bothering to interact with the fans at all, just immediately pointing right at Townsend and unleashing a hail of verbal fury that would make Samuel L. Jackson proud! Stevens races towards the ring, heading straight for Townsend who quickly bails out of the ring! Stevens drops out and continues chasing Townsend, who quickly bails into the crowd, tearing through the floor seats, heading in the general direction of the stands, doing his level best to throw a few fans in the way of Stevens as he does so! At some point around this time, someone at ringside figures that right about now would be a good time to ring the bell, officially signifying the start of the match.
Joe Hoffman: And we are officially under way, folks...though I don’t think we’ve seen anything that could be construed as a match, or even a fight so far...just Rhys Townsend running away.
Benny Newell: What, is he just supposed to do what his opponent wants him to do? He’s smart, Hoffman, he’ll fight when he’s ready to fight.
Joe Hoffman: Well, I think he should stand his ground and get on with it. If Stevens is pissed off at him, then he only has one man to blame - himself.
Townsend keeps fleeing through the crowd, using the fans to put more and more distance betwen himself and Stevens until the cameras lose track of him. Stevens realises that he, like the cameras, can’t see Townsend anymore, and he comes to a stop at the base of the stand. He looks around, surrounded by the baying HOW fans, only to find himself clobbered from behind with a hockey stick that Rhys Townsend apparently found somewhere in his adventures! Stevens turns, but Rhys Townsend delivers the sort of potentially career damaging cross-check that even Todd Bertuzzi would be proud of, slamming Stevens into the dividing wall between floor and stand, his head snapping viciously. He quickly swings the stick, aiming for Stevens head, but the Scorpion ducks, Townsend instead connecting with a random fan! The fan goes down as Stevens immediately starts firing right hand after right hand after right hand, sending the Best Alliance’s enforcer stumbling back towards the ring, the fans parting like a hooker’s legs before Benny Newell on a Saturday night!
Joe Hoffman: Stevens finally getting his hands on Townsend, and boy, does he look pissed off!
Benny Newell: Blah blah blah...I’m pretty sure Townsend’s dealt with angrier hookers.
Joe Hoffman: Oh, I don’t know about that, Benny. Stevens feels like Townsend’s been tormenting him for these last few months, and he’s gotta have a lot of pent-up anger - now? Now he gets to unleash it.
Benny Newell: All that’s happening right now is that Rhys is giving the marks a reason to watch the match, because if nothing else, he’s a showman.
Joe Hoffman: Right...I doubt the authenticity of your statement, Benny.
Benny Newell: Fuck you, Hoffman. Totally true. DRINK!
Stevens keeps pursuing, Townsend eventually finding himself backed up against the ringside barricades, where he immediately drops to his knees, begging Stevens for just a little time, pleading that the match hasn’t actually started yet, but The Scorpion is having none of it, seeing it as nothing more than an opportunity to grab a handful of Townsend’s hair, rearing back for another punch, but as he pulls back, Townsend reaches into his tights, producing a empty syringe, and just as Stevens starts to move forward for the punch, Townsend spears the needle right into Stevens’ cheek! He doesn’t get much penetration, but he doesn’t need much, just enough to stagger The Scorpion, who quickly pulls the syringe out, tossing it aside before he charges back at Townsend. Rhys sees the move coming in plenty of time and rolls into a crowd of fans, a small pocket of stoners, clad in their Rhys Townsend official HOW merchandise. Stevens looks around, a little confused as to where Townsend’s gone, but he spots the top of his head and barrels through the fans, making a beeline for Townsend, who, for the first time in the match, actually stands toe to toe with Stevens!
Joe Hoffman: Here we go! Punches being traded as these two men go at it right in the crowd!
Benny Newell: Yeah, and some third and fourth row cheapskates have a front row view right now, Hoffman. It isn’t right. DRINK!
They exchange punch after punch after punch, it looking like perhaps the most violent barfight you’ve ever seen as nothing less than pure hatred is exchanged as both men fire away, neither willing to give an inch, neither willing to give his opponent any sort of encouragement or quarter! Stevens reaches in and unexpectedly connects, forehead to nose, smashing Townsend’s nose and ensuring that a few fans have teeshirts that they probably can’t wash fast enough! Rhys staggers back, clutching at his probably broken nose as Stevens measures him, before taking a quick step, stretching his leg out and looking for a superkick...but Townsend grabs his boot! He quickly throws Stevens’ foot back to the floor, before he spins him around and then, quickly, he spins himself, the product of his sudden flurry of movement being perhaps one of the most vicious elbow strikes we’ll see all night as opens up a large gash right on Stevens’ forehead!
Benny Newell: There ya fucking go! That was one motherfucking vicious elbow, Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: Hard to argue that point, Benny. Stevens just took a little too long with the superkick, and that was all the opening Townsend needed to reverse the situation.
Benny Newell: Ya...that’s what happens when you have some actual talent. Ya know, when you’re not some fisher price fuck playing at being a big boy wrestler.
Joe Hoffman: Honestly, Benny, I would have thought that Scott Stevens has been here for long enough and done enough that you don’t feel the need to call him a Fisher Price wrestler anymore. You, at the least, have to respect his acumen once the bell rings.
Benny Newell: The only way I’m ever going to respect that ungrateful piece of shit is when he realises the error of his way and starts praising God himself.
Joe Hoffman: I don’t see that happening anytime soon...
Benny Newell: Then I don’t see me respecting him anytime soon.
Townsend shakes his forearm as he takes a moment to look around, to establish his bearing. Stevens’ is just starting to pick himself up as Townsend grabs him by the back of the head, and with no wasted movement, quickly rams his face into a steel chair! Stevens has not an ounce of quit in him tonight, however, and starts to get back up, straight away to the surprise of Rhys Townsend, who for once, seems at a little bit of a loss. Stevens throws a punch, connecting with jaw, staggering the Best Alliance member a little but as he advances, Townsend returns fire, to little effect! Stevens with another right hand, and another and another, Townsend replying to little effect as Stevens keeps advancing! Townsend finds himself backed up against the barricade once again, as Stevens stalks the foot or so towards him, coming into range where the two go into yet another furious exchange of fists! Eventually, it’s what appeared to be a slow, loose, looping left from Stevens that connects with Townsend’s jaw with thunderous force, knocking Rhys clean over the barricade and into the ringside area!
Joe Hoffman: Now, folks, we have moment towards the Championship belt. Stevens has brought this match back into the ringside area, though he seems less than concerned with his Championship right now, just, quite simply, looking for some payback on Townsend!
Benny Newell: Rhys is just playing possum, Hoffman. He’ll turn it on in a few seconds, come back strong, annihilate Stevens, casually waltz up the ladder, and then we’ll have a new ICON Champion!
Joe Hoffman: How do you waltz up a ladder, Benny?
Benny Newell: Just go with it, Hoffman - I’m like four bottles deep. DRINK!
Stevens swats the blood out of his eyes, before he climbs straight back over the barricade, Townsend crawling around on the floor. Stevens stalks him before he grabs him and hurls him into the ringsteps! The steps go flying as shoulder makes contact, and Stevens wastes no time in stalking after Townsend, determined to make sure that his offensive flurry doesn’t stop as he grabs Rhys’s head and starts to smash it off the steel steps! He hammers it against them, looking to make a dent in the top of the stairs! Eventually, he comes to the realization it isn’t possible, as he pulls up, taking a few long, deep breaths as he evaluates his next move. Stevens decides that it’s not one of the ladders scattered around ringside that he wants to get his hands on, instead opting to go under the apron, sliding a table out! He takes his time setting it up, his blood slicked hands obviously not aiding him in this operation as just a few feet away, Townsend starts to slowly come to his senses.
Joe Hoffman: Here we go, folks...the first bit of real plunder has come out in this match!
Benny Newell: So Townsend using a hockey stick earlier in the match wasn’t plunder, Hoffman?
Joe Hoffman: Well, yes, obviously it was, but...you know...
Benny Newell: No, I don’t. DRINK!
Stevens gets the table set up, but as he goes to pick Townsend up, his gut is met with a heavy handed punch! The air escapes his lungs as Townsend throws another, and another and another, the winded Stevens having little effect as the Best Alliance member slowly drags himself back to his feet, his face now being little more than a mask of crimson. Stevens staggers back, as Townsend almost leaps the few feet towards Stevens, looking for a shoulder block or something of the sort, but it’s absolutely pointless as Stevens catches him in a belly to belly waistlock! He turns ninety degrees, back to the barricade before he hurls Townsend overhead, sending the big man through the barricade and flying into the fans behind! Mayhem happens, as Stevens drops to a knee, taking the time to recuperate.
Joe Hoffman: Wow...that had to hurt! Through the barricade!
Benny Newell: Fucking duh, Hoffman. You think there’s been anything that’s happened in this match that hasn’t hurt?
Joe Hoffman: Well, no...
Benny Newell: My point exactly, dickhead.
He takes a look at the hubris surrounding Townsend, and then for the first time in the match, turns his head and takes a look at the Championship hanging above the ring. Stevens grabs one of the ladders from ringside and slowly but surely, slides it into the ring. He follows it in as the Best Arena crowd starts to buzz, while at ringside, Townsend is slowly pulling himself back to his feet. He starts to find the placement for the ladder, having difficulty pulling it open, as Rhys climbs over the destroyed barricade, slowly, but surely crawling towards the ring. Stevens gets the ladder set just as Townsend’s arms appear on the apron, his blood soaked face appearing above the apron momentarily, a vision of anger and rage! Stevens gets a foot on the ladder as Townsend pulls himself inside the ring...Stevens looks to the outside of the ring, expecting to see a downed Townsend, but instead he finds the man pushing him off the ladder! The ladder loses it’s balance, bouncing dangerously off the ropes but finding a home in the corner of the ring as Townsend doesn’t fire away with punches, instead going to what he knows best, delivering an exploder suplex to Stevens!
Benny Newell: It’s coming, Hoffman...Hashtag Predictable...
Joe Hoffman: I think we might be a little way away from seeing Rhys pull that out, Hoffman...Stevens must still have something in the tank!
Benny Newell: Man, I hope not. I mean...there’s still Max to come...I got a whole fuckton of drinking to do and if Rhys doesn’t start dominating soon, I’m gonna run out of booze.
Joe Hoffman: So what you’re saying is you’re going to run out of booze?
Benny Newell: Yeah...did just send some lackey to go get me some though.
Joe Hoffman: Townsend’s still in the ring, Benny.
Benny Newell: He’s not a lackey, he’s just...oh, fuck it. You’re too fucking stupid to understand. DRINK!
Stevens doesn’t stay down from the Exploder, finding enough inside himself to get back up, even if it does get him nearly decapitated as Townsend delivers a vicious lariat! Stevens flips head over toe as he eats a clothesline that may well have ended a match, but this is ICONIC, and the ICON Championship is on the line - no way, no how is he staying down. He pulls himself back to his feet, standing up right into a running headbutt from Townsend! Stevens staggers back towards the turnbuckle, as Townsend quickly charges in, throwing his shoulder into Stevens’ gut. He quickly lifts The Scorpion up onto the top turnbuckle, but the match shows it’s effects on him as he slips when he goes to climb. He tries again, and eventually gets up there, only to be met with a right hand from Stevens! He sways violently, but manages to return fire, and the two have another exchange of blows! Stevens gouges Townsend’s eye, and as the Best Alliance member dangles precariously, swaying towards the canvas below, Stevens grabs him by his hair, and with a roar, hoists him up onto his shoulders! Stevens stands up, carefully negotiating his way to the top rope, eyeing up the table he set up earlier in the match, before he leaps off the turnbuckle...
Joe Hoffman: HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM!!!
Benny Newell: You’re fucking right we do, Hoffman! That could well have killed Townsend!!
Joe Hoffman: Highly unlikely, Benny...but just as Townsend thought he had control of the match, Stevens pulls out his patented Death Valley Driver and now it’s anyone’s game!
Both men lay in the wreckage of the table outside of the ring as the crowd unleashes their first HOLY SHIT! chant of the match, neither man really moving. Eventually, just as the crowd starts to die down, Stevens starts to stir, rolling out of the wreckage. He starts to pull himself to his feet, with the help of the ring barricade as Townsend crawls towards the apron, getting some of his body underneath it as Stevens gets back up. The Scorpion grabs hold of one of Townsend’s feet, dragging him out from underneath the ring...only to find that Townsend had found himself a piece of plunder whilst underneath there! There’s enough time for shock to register on Stevens’ face before the signature weapon of Rhys Townsend’s supposed close, personal friend, Scottywood, rakes it’s way across Stevens’ face! Blood spurts all over the ringside area, The Scorpion staggering back as Townsend starts to pull himself back to his feet.
Benny Newell: See? I knew I had reason to have faith...Rhys’s close personal friend and our illustrious General Manager must have left that there for Townsend just in case a situation like this happened!
Joe Hoffman: Typical Scottywood, if you ask me. Can’t be in the match, but does his best to insert himself into it anyway.
Benny Newell: Fuck you, Hoffman! You know that’s the guy who’s like, the general fucking manager, right?
Joe Hoffman: Yes, Benny, I am aware of that...
Benny Newell: So stop being a fucking douchebag then. DRINK!
Townsend grasps the apron, slowly pulling himself back to his feet as Stevens can’t see anything, blood flowing freely into his eyes. Rhys doesn’t waste time, grabbing him by his head as he drags him towards the announcer’s table, slamming his head off it! Stevens staggers backwards from the impact, and Townsend attempts to grab him by his forehead, but his hand slip, Stevens blood stopping him from getting a firm grip, so instead, he just rams him into the apron! Stevens doesn’t go down like a heap of shit, staying up and throwing a few blind punches, missing as Townsend easily evades them. He waits for the moment, before he reaches in and snaps off a vicious DDT! Stevens connects hard with the floor, as again, with a lot of effort, and the help of the announcer’s table, Townsend drags himself back to his feet. He walks over to one of the ladders stacked around ringside, and with considerable effort, bridges the gap from apron to announcer’s table with the ladder.
Joe Hoffman: I don’t know what kind of torture that’s going through Townsend’s head right now, but it doesn’t look good for Stevens at all.
Benny Newell: It’s the predictable end, Hoffman! It’s coming and it’s going to be fucking awesome! DRINK!
Townsend looks at the prone, possibly unconcious Stevens, and he reaches down, picking him up and dumping him onto the apron. He follows him up onto there, and with his back to the ladder, he measures the distance before he reaches through Stevens’ legs, clasping in the wristlock. With a roar, he lifts and throws Stevens through the air, firing off a millimeter perfect Sublimation, Stevens’ back impacting onto the ladder, bending it slightly as the Chicago crowd “oooh’s!”
Benny Newell: HE JUST SPLIT MY DRINK BUT I STILL LOVE HIM!
Joe Hoffman: These two are just trading moves here, folks, back and forth! Neither man is willing to give up, neither man is willing to let the other be able to claim that he’s the better man as they go at it! You have to wonder exactly how much their bodies can take before they just...give out.
Benny Newell: Well, Rhys can take more, obviously. He’ll just shoot up and boom...TOWNSEND SMASH!
Joe Hoffman: The mind might be willing, but the body may not be capable, Benny. We’ll see.
Stevens rolls off the ladder, falling hard onto the floor. The jolt seems to wake him up slightly, as he starts to stir. Townsend looks down at him, shaking his head, questioning exactly what it is he has to do to keep the man down. Looking to pre-empt Stevens, he ducks underneath the ladder and stomps on the back of Stevens head, driving him back to the floor. Stevens again, doesn’t stay still, pushing himself up by his knuckles as again, Townsend stamps on the back of his head, looking around for something to use. He doesn’t find anything, again, stamping on the back of Stevens’ head, but that, if anything, seems to do little more than wake him up, increasing the speed of his ascent. Townsend looks quite genuinely pissed off as he starts to fire ineffectual punches at Stevens, the ICON Champion clearly on an adrenaline rush! Stevens is up, Townsend’s face a picture of bloodstained shock as the Champion starts to fire fists of his own, knocking down the Best Alliance member time after time!
Townsend eventually gets up, a little too groggy for his own good as Stevens delivers a vicious headbutt! Townsend staggers backwards, clattering into the ladder and Stevens takes the opportunity to smash his head against it! Townsend slumps, as Stevens grabs hold of his arm, opening the ladder and ramming it inside. In a rare display for the fans, Stevens points at the turnbuckle in the same sort of way you point at the drink you want after you’ve had one too many, and he begins his slow, inexorable progress to the top turnbuckle. He gets up there, and, fortunately for him, Townsend still hasn’t moved, though he appears to be aware that his arm’s trapped...but he doesn’t move it in time as Stevens leaps through the air, smashing ribcage off ladder as he crushes Townsend’s arm in the ladder! Both men fly away from the canvas, primal howls of pain coming from Townsend as he clutches his right arm, the arm Stevens just crushed!
Benny Newell: Stop the match! Stop the fucking match! We could have a Best Alliance getting injured here...
Joe Hoffman: You know that’s not going to happen, Benny...
Benny Newell: No shit, Hoffhole. But there’s some injustice going on here...I bet Stevens is on the juice, too. It’s the only explaination...
Joe Hoffman: Or he’s really willing to do what everyone hopes they can do at some point - give absolutely everything. Leave every ounce of themselves in the ring, in the match. Both men, for that matter, are doing that, and you have to wonder how much further they can push it.
Benny Newell: Well, they have to keep pushing it...I don’t wanna be sat here all night while we wait for one of them to climb the fucking ladder.
Townsend’s howls of pain have stopped, the young wrestler lying nearly motionless, holding his arm as he does so. Stevens gets back up, and takes a long look at the twisted remains of the ladder as he clutches his ribcage, hurling it out of the way as he makes a beeline for a chair that one of the ring crew is sat on. Hurling crewmembers out of the way, he grabs a pair of chairs, slowly, carefully enclosing Townsend’s right arm with one chair before smashing it with the other! More primal howls of pain reverberate around the Best Arena, as Stevens looks down at a job he considers to be done, as he slowly rolls back into the ring.
Benny Newell: No...not like this...c’mon Rhys...fucking shoot up or something!
Joe Hoffman: I don’t think he’s in a position to do that right now, Benny.
Benny Newell: No? Well, Big Buff ain’t standing for that. No he ain’t. God gave me this just in case...
Stevens grabs the ladder from earlier, again, setting it up in the middle of the ring and beginning his slow but steady climb towards the top, as Benny makes a very brief excursion to the front of his announcer’s table, not even bothering to take his headset off as he rams one of the same syringes we saw at Rumble at the Rock right into Townsend’s neck! He quickly moves back to his seat as Townsend twitches a few times, the tension palpable inside the Best Arena as Stevens inches closer to the Championship! Townsend slowly comes around, sitting up, his face a picture of roid rage as Stevens gets to the top, stopping to steady himself. Townsend pulls himself into the ring right as Stevens reaches for the Championship. The drugs, or maybe just good old fashioned will to win powers Townsend as he strides over towards the ladder and somehow, picks it up off the canvas! Stevens’ head smacks against the ICON Championship, sending it swinging madly around in the rafters of the arena as Townsend walks the ladder towards the edge of the ring, hurling both ladder and man outside of the ring! Surprise is written all over Stevens’ face as he arcs through the air, creating his own personal ground zero somewhere in row seven or eight as the unaffected crowd members burst into holy shit chants!
Benny Newell: The drugs, Hoffman, the drugs! They’re the answer to absolutely fucking everything! Life, the universe and everything!
Joe Hoffman: I thought that was 42.
Benny Newell: What? Are you dropping some nerd shit on me right now, Hoffman? Because I can’t take it. I really can’t. All I want right now is for Rhys to get out the ring, get another ladder and climb up.
Joe Hoffman: It certainly looks to be in his favor at the moment...but he’s still got to get up there, and with that bad arm? It’s not going to be an easy task.
Townsend collapses in the ring, clearly having given absolutely every last ounce of himself with that move. Breathing heavily, he takes plenty of time to roll out of the ring and retrieve a ladder, struggling to slide it under the bottom rope, one handedly. Eventually, he does it, and he follows it in, dragging it to the middle. He attempts to set it up one handed, but repeatedly fails. He gives in and uses his other arm, screaming out every time he uses it. In the crowd, Stevens has just about come around to consciousness, dragging himself inch by inch towards the ring, as Townsend starts to climb. It doesn’t look like Stevens is going to quite get there in time, Townsend having ascended to the top of the ladder...but the still-swinging belt poses quite a challenge for a one armed man. Townsend waits, trying to time it right to clasp it with both hands, but he keeps missing. Stevens pulls himself into the ring, slowly pulling himself to the top of the ladder, and the two men once more, exchange blows!
Benny Newell: DRINK!
Joe Hoffman: What for, exactly?
Benny Newell: This one’s about to be over, Hoffman! Done! New ICON Champion!
In the middle of the exchange, Townsend unleashes a ball of phlegm and blood...mostly blood, let’s be honest here, right into Stevens’ face! Stevens staggers back, the ladder swaying dangerously as he does so, but Townsend manages to reach up and clasp both hands around the belt! He starts to unbuckle it one by one...and right as there’s only one buckle left to remove, Stevens grabs hold of his head and smashes it off the top of the ladder! Stevens stops for a second, drawing in deep breath after deep breath, before he looks at Rhys, and looks at the drop. He climbs a few more steps before he reaches down and grabs the still prone Townsend, hoisting him up into a powerbomb....and Townsend wakes up as he sits in the powerbomb, his one good arm flailing wildly at the championship belt! Stevens quickly realises what’s going on as the crowd’s positively ready to explode and hurls Townsend forward! Townsend arcs through the air, flying just past the ring ropes and crashing down hard on the outside of the ring! A holy shit accompanies Stevens unbuckling the Championship, as the bell finally rings!
Bryan McVay: And your winner in 29 minutes and 32 seconds and STILL HOW ICON CHAMPION.....SCOTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT STEEEEEEEEEEVEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Stevens doesn’t even raise the Championship, doesn’t even get a chance to do that as right after he unbuckled the belt, he dropped to the canvas. EMT’s, accompanied by stretchers charge down to ringside as we go back to the time honored shot of our Hall of Fame commentary duo.
Joe Hoffman: Wow, folks...what a match. Just...what a match. My partner here’s too busy crying into his whiskey to talk right now, but let me assure you that he’d be screaming about this being an injustice. Either way, both men put it all on the line tonight, gave absolutely everything they had in that ring tonight, and boy, were we treated to a great match.
Benny Newell: Aww yeah...I’m fucking ready for this one, Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: Oh yeah, Benny, I think everyone is. A true homegrown High Octane Wrestling talent, a man who has never wrestled anywhere but High Octane Wrestling, Rhys Townsend, takes on a man who has a storied history in many different federations - Championships, Hall of Fame spots, you name it - he’s done it, in “The Scorpion” Scott Stevens.
Benny Newell: What he is is a Fisher Price faggot, Hoffman. He signs a contract with us - comes here and wrestles for us more often than he does anywhere else, but does he bow down to God, does he parade himself around as the thing he should parade himself around as, as a High Octane Wrestler? Fuck no! He shoves some shitty dead fed down our throats until we fucking puke it up into the toilet bowl it belongs in!
Joe Hoffman: Well, Stevens is obviously proud of his storied history - and has said that he made his return to professional wrestling after a number of years of absence to help out Legacy Pro Wrestling.
Benny Newell: Yeah. What a fag.
Joe Hoffman: Anyway, the history of this match goes back past the issue the two wrestlers have with each other, reaching back a number of months to the time when Scott Stevens took it upon himself to throw Lee Best off the stage. Naturally, Lee wasn’t happy...
Benny Newell: Because dudes just love getting hurled off stage! Hell, I pay small Asian hookers to do it to me!
Joe Hoffman: That’s....disturbing, Benny.
Benny Newell: Sarcasm, Hoffhole - look it up sometime.
Joe Hoffman: Noted. Stevens throwing Lee off the stage wasn’t just an isolated incident - it grew out of heat between Stevens and Lee’s now estranged son, Michael. However, Rhys Townsend joined the Best Alliance and began to show us a new side - a side that quite simply, wants to create destruction. He first came across Scott Stevens in a singles match, before Rumble at the Rock, and in what was perhaps a shock at the time, suffered defeat. But the issue just grew from there. In Solitary Confinement, presented with the opportunity to do some damage, Rhys repeatedly smashed Stevens’ face off a concrete wall, much the way he had done to Silent Witness just a few months prior.
Benny Newell: Yeah, Townsend smashed the shit out of his face. It was great!
Joe Hoffman: I doubt Stevens agrees with you, Benny.
Benny Newell: Does it look like I give a fuck about what Stevens thinks?
Joe Hoffman: Right. However, that wasn’t enough to put Stevens down - he was immediately firing away at Townsend on social media, the two wrestlers trading barbs back and forth. Stevens was then presented with the opportunity to take on Townsend’s newfound Best Alliance stablemate, Scottywood, for the HOW ICON Championship - and won.
Benny Newell: Still not convinced by the refereeing in that contest. But whatever. What happened after that, because I know that Hoffman’s going to blab on and on and on about it and make it sound real fucking boring was greatness - Townsend showed exactly how much better than Stevens he is by showing off some of his many talents. Ticket scalping, nacho sales, commentary, refereeing...he’s a modern day renaissance man, Hoffman! He can do it all!
Joe Hoffman: And Stevens, naturally, took exception to that.
Benny Newell: Duh. And see, Hoffman, you totally missed out the part where Townsend and Scottywood signed the contract for this match with Stevens’ own blood, before Rhys stabbed the contract into his forehead with a syringe!
Joe Hoffman: Well, I, uhh...
Benny Newell: Hah! Mr. Professionalism made a slip on the biggest night of the year!
Joe Hoffman: Of course, you might be saying - if Scottywood signed the contract, howcome he isn’t in this match? Well, folks, Lee Best pulled him out, saying that he has a more important project for Scotty to be dealing with.
Benny Newell: Why’d you need two Best Alliance members in this match? You’ve got Townsend. Two years, both with more than twenty wins - that’s a record. And do you know what else, Hoffman?
Joe Hoffman: Are you about to give me another Townsend stat, Benny?
Benny Newell: Oh yeah, I am. Mostly because I know this means something to that high motherfucker - six hundred and forty one days. That’s how long it’s been since Rhys has wrestled on PPV and not main evented. Tell me that’s not impressive.
Joe Hoffman: It is, certainly. But I’d like to remind you that he hasn’t won a single one of those matches...
Benny Newell: Fuck you, Hoffman. Always pissing on my parade...
Joe Hoffman: I just felt like there was a facet you’d missed, so I felt like I ought to illuminate the viewing audience. Anyway, this match was made a ladder match by General Manager Scottywood on the last show...so you can be sure that this is going to be nothing short of all out war! Let’s stop yapping and hand it over to Bryan McVay!
The camera moves away from our commentary duo, showcasing the ICON Championship, suspended a good twenty foot above the ring, gleaming in the lights of the Best Arena. McVay is stood below the Championship belt, ready to begin the introductions.
Bryan McVay: The following contest is a Ladder Match and is for the High Octane Wrestling ICON Championship!
Sylosis’ All Is Not Well thunders out from the Best Arena’s soundsystem, heralding the arrival of Rhys Townsend, who appears at the top of the ramp.
Bryan McVay: Introducing first, he is the challenger! Representing the Best Alliance, he comes to us from Chicago, Illinois and weighed in at two hundred fifty one pounds, this is RHYSSSSSSSSS TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWNSEEEEEEENDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Townsend pays absolutely no attention to the fans or anyone else as he strides towards the ring, his face all business as he travels down the ramp.
Benny Newell: See that, Hoffman? That’s our next ICON Champion!
Joe Hoffman: I don’t know, Benny...I think you might be underestimating Stevens just a little right there.
Benny Newell: Pah. Bullshit - complete bullshit! Townsend’s gonna smash his face, just watch. DRINK!
Bryan McVay: And his opponent...
The lights in the arena go pitch black, as red lasers and spotlights light up the area. The video screen lights up and flashes across the screen, "Nothing survives my sting!" The crowd starts booing,but it’s not just a wrestling booing. It’s a booing of pure hatred. Chris Benoit level booing as Dave Mustaine's voice echoes throughout the arena, "I am the Scorpion, whoa!" The jeering intensifies as a mash-up of "I Stand Alone" and "Amazing" hits the speakers, drawing out the reigning High Octane Wrestling Icon champion.
Bryan McVay: He is the Champion! He hails from Houston, Texas, and weighed in at two hundred fifty six pounds and he is the reigning, defending High Octane Wrestling ICON Champion....”THE SCORPION” SCOTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNNNNSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Stevens doesn’t continue with his usual charade during the entrance, not bothering to interact with the fans at all, just immediately pointing right at Townsend and unleashing a hail of verbal fury that would make Samuel L. Jackson proud! Stevens races towards the ring, heading straight for Townsend who quickly bails out of the ring! Stevens drops out and continues chasing Townsend, who quickly bails into the crowd, tearing through the floor seats, heading in the general direction of the stands, doing his level best to throw a few fans in the way of Stevens as he does so! At some point around this time, someone at ringside figures that right about now would be a good time to ring the bell, officially signifying the start of the match.
Joe Hoffman: And we are officially under way, folks...though I don’t think we’ve seen anything that could be construed as a match, or even a fight so far...just Rhys Townsend running away.
Benny Newell: What, is he just supposed to do what his opponent wants him to do? He’s smart, Hoffman, he’ll fight when he’s ready to fight.
Joe Hoffman: Well, I think he should stand his ground and get on with it. If Stevens is pissed off at him, then he only has one man to blame - himself.
Townsend keeps fleeing through the crowd, using the fans to put more and more distance betwen himself and Stevens until the cameras lose track of him. Stevens realises that he, like the cameras, can’t see Townsend anymore, and he comes to a stop at the base of the stand. He looks around, surrounded by the baying HOW fans, only to find himself clobbered from behind with a hockey stick that Rhys Townsend apparently found somewhere in his adventures! Stevens turns, but Rhys Townsend delivers the sort of potentially career damaging cross-check that even Todd Bertuzzi would be proud of, slamming Stevens into the dividing wall between floor and stand, his head snapping viciously. He quickly swings the stick, aiming for Stevens head, but the Scorpion ducks, Townsend instead connecting with a random fan! The fan goes down as Stevens immediately starts firing right hand after right hand after right hand, sending the Best Alliance’s enforcer stumbling back towards the ring, the fans parting like a hooker’s legs before Benny Newell on a Saturday night!
Joe Hoffman: Stevens finally getting his hands on Townsend, and boy, does he look pissed off!
Benny Newell: Blah blah blah...I’m pretty sure Townsend’s dealt with angrier hookers.
Joe Hoffman: Oh, I don’t know about that, Benny. Stevens feels like Townsend’s been tormenting him for these last few months, and he’s gotta have a lot of pent-up anger - now? Now he gets to unleash it.
Benny Newell: All that’s happening right now is that Rhys is giving the marks a reason to watch the match, because if nothing else, he’s a showman.
Joe Hoffman: Right...I doubt the authenticity of your statement, Benny.
Benny Newell: Fuck you, Hoffman. Totally true. DRINK!
Stevens keeps pursuing, Townsend eventually finding himself backed up against the ringside barricades, where he immediately drops to his knees, begging Stevens for just a little time, pleading that the match hasn’t actually started yet, but The Scorpion is having none of it, seeing it as nothing more than an opportunity to grab a handful of Townsend’s hair, rearing back for another punch, but as he pulls back, Townsend reaches into his tights, producing a empty syringe, and just as Stevens starts to move forward for the punch, Townsend spears the needle right into Stevens’ cheek! He doesn’t get much penetration, but he doesn’t need much, just enough to stagger The Scorpion, who quickly pulls the syringe out, tossing it aside before he charges back at Townsend. Rhys sees the move coming in plenty of time and rolls into a crowd of fans, a small pocket of stoners, clad in their Rhys Townsend official HOW merchandise. Stevens looks around, a little confused as to where Townsend’s gone, but he spots the top of his head and barrels through the fans, making a beeline for Townsend, who, for the first time in the match, actually stands toe to toe with Stevens!
Joe Hoffman: Here we go! Punches being traded as these two men go at it right in the crowd!
Benny Newell: Yeah, and some third and fourth row cheapskates have a front row view right now, Hoffman. It isn’t right. DRINK!
They exchange punch after punch after punch, it looking like perhaps the most violent barfight you’ve ever seen as nothing less than pure hatred is exchanged as both men fire away, neither willing to give an inch, neither willing to give his opponent any sort of encouragement or quarter! Stevens reaches in and unexpectedly connects, forehead to nose, smashing Townsend’s nose and ensuring that a few fans have teeshirts that they probably can’t wash fast enough! Rhys staggers back, clutching at his probably broken nose as Stevens measures him, before taking a quick step, stretching his leg out and looking for a superkick...but Townsend grabs his boot! He quickly throws Stevens’ foot back to the floor, before he spins him around and then, quickly, he spins himself, the product of his sudden flurry of movement being perhaps one of the most vicious elbow strikes we’ll see all night as opens up a large gash right on Stevens’ forehead!
Benny Newell: There ya fucking go! That was one motherfucking vicious elbow, Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: Hard to argue that point, Benny. Stevens just took a little too long with the superkick, and that was all the opening Townsend needed to reverse the situation.
Benny Newell: Ya...that’s what happens when you have some actual talent. Ya know, when you’re not some fisher price fuck playing at being a big boy wrestler.
Joe Hoffman: Honestly, Benny, I would have thought that Scott Stevens has been here for long enough and done enough that you don’t feel the need to call him a Fisher Price wrestler anymore. You, at the least, have to respect his acumen once the bell rings.
Benny Newell: The only way I’m ever going to respect that ungrateful piece of shit is when he realises the error of his way and starts praising God himself.
Joe Hoffman: I don’t see that happening anytime soon...
Benny Newell: Then I don’t see me respecting him anytime soon.
Townsend shakes his forearm as he takes a moment to look around, to establish his bearing. Stevens’ is just starting to pick himself up as Townsend grabs him by the back of the head, and with no wasted movement, quickly rams his face into a steel chair! Stevens has not an ounce of quit in him tonight, however, and starts to get back up, straight away to the surprise of Rhys Townsend, who for once, seems at a little bit of a loss. Stevens throws a punch, connecting with jaw, staggering the Best Alliance member a little but as he advances, Townsend returns fire, to little effect! Stevens with another right hand, and another and another, Townsend replying to little effect as Stevens keeps advancing! Townsend finds himself backed up against the barricade once again, as Stevens stalks the foot or so towards him, coming into range where the two go into yet another furious exchange of fists! Eventually, it’s what appeared to be a slow, loose, looping left from Stevens that connects with Townsend’s jaw with thunderous force, knocking Rhys clean over the barricade and into the ringside area!
Joe Hoffman: Now, folks, we have moment towards the Championship belt. Stevens has brought this match back into the ringside area, though he seems less than concerned with his Championship right now, just, quite simply, looking for some payback on Townsend!
Benny Newell: Rhys is just playing possum, Hoffman. He’ll turn it on in a few seconds, come back strong, annihilate Stevens, casually waltz up the ladder, and then we’ll have a new ICON Champion!
Joe Hoffman: How do you waltz up a ladder, Benny?
Benny Newell: Just go with it, Hoffman - I’m like four bottles deep. DRINK!
Stevens swats the blood out of his eyes, before he climbs straight back over the barricade, Townsend crawling around on the floor. Stevens stalks him before he grabs him and hurls him into the ringsteps! The steps go flying as shoulder makes contact, and Stevens wastes no time in stalking after Townsend, determined to make sure that his offensive flurry doesn’t stop as he grabs Rhys’s head and starts to smash it off the steel steps! He hammers it against them, looking to make a dent in the top of the stairs! Eventually, he comes to the realization it isn’t possible, as he pulls up, taking a few long, deep breaths as he evaluates his next move. Stevens decides that it’s not one of the ladders scattered around ringside that he wants to get his hands on, instead opting to go under the apron, sliding a table out! He takes his time setting it up, his blood slicked hands obviously not aiding him in this operation as just a few feet away, Townsend starts to slowly come to his senses.
Joe Hoffman: Here we go, folks...the first bit of real plunder has come out in this match!
Benny Newell: So Townsend using a hockey stick earlier in the match wasn’t plunder, Hoffman?
Joe Hoffman: Well, yes, obviously it was, but...you know...
Benny Newell: No, I don’t. DRINK!
Stevens gets the table set up, but as he goes to pick Townsend up, his gut is met with a heavy handed punch! The air escapes his lungs as Townsend throws another, and another and another, the winded Stevens having little effect as the Best Alliance member slowly drags himself back to his feet, his face now being little more than a mask of crimson. Stevens staggers back, as Townsend almost leaps the few feet towards Stevens, looking for a shoulder block or something of the sort, but it’s absolutely pointless as Stevens catches him in a belly to belly waistlock! He turns ninety degrees, back to the barricade before he hurls Townsend overhead, sending the big man through the barricade and flying into the fans behind! Mayhem happens, as Stevens drops to a knee, taking the time to recuperate.
Joe Hoffman: Wow...that had to hurt! Through the barricade!
Benny Newell: Fucking duh, Hoffman. You think there’s been anything that’s happened in this match that hasn’t hurt?
Joe Hoffman: Well, no...
Benny Newell: My point exactly, dickhead.
He takes a look at the hubris surrounding Townsend, and then for the first time in the match, turns his head and takes a look at the Championship hanging above the ring. Stevens grabs one of the ladders from ringside and slowly but surely, slides it into the ring. He follows it in as the Best Arena crowd starts to buzz, while at ringside, Townsend is slowly pulling himself back to his feet. He starts to find the placement for the ladder, having difficulty pulling it open, as Rhys climbs over the destroyed barricade, slowly, but surely crawling towards the ring. Stevens gets the ladder set just as Townsend’s arms appear on the apron, his blood soaked face appearing above the apron momentarily, a vision of anger and rage! Stevens gets a foot on the ladder as Townsend pulls himself inside the ring...Stevens looks to the outside of the ring, expecting to see a downed Townsend, but instead he finds the man pushing him off the ladder! The ladder loses it’s balance, bouncing dangerously off the ropes but finding a home in the corner of the ring as Townsend doesn’t fire away with punches, instead going to what he knows best, delivering an exploder suplex to Stevens!
Benny Newell: It’s coming, Hoffman...Hashtag Predictable...
Joe Hoffman: I think we might be a little way away from seeing Rhys pull that out, Hoffman...Stevens must still have something in the tank!
Benny Newell: Man, I hope not. I mean...there’s still Max to come...I got a whole fuckton of drinking to do and if Rhys doesn’t start dominating soon, I’m gonna run out of booze.
Joe Hoffman: So what you’re saying is you’re going to run out of booze?
Benny Newell: Yeah...did just send some lackey to go get me some though.
Joe Hoffman: Townsend’s still in the ring, Benny.
Benny Newell: He’s not a lackey, he’s just...oh, fuck it. You’re too fucking stupid to understand. DRINK!
Stevens doesn’t stay down from the Exploder, finding enough inside himself to get back up, even if it does get him nearly decapitated as Townsend delivers a vicious lariat! Stevens flips head over toe as he eats a clothesline that may well have ended a match, but this is ICONIC, and the ICON Championship is on the line - no way, no how is he staying down. He pulls himself back to his feet, standing up right into a running headbutt from Townsend! Stevens staggers back towards the turnbuckle, as Townsend quickly charges in, throwing his shoulder into Stevens’ gut. He quickly lifts The Scorpion up onto the top turnbuckle, but the match shows it’s effects on him as he slips when he goes to climb. He tries again, and eventually gets up there, only to be met with a right hand from Stevens! He sways violently, but manages to return fire, and the two have another exchange of blows! Stevens gouges Townsend’s eye, and as the Best Alliance member dangles precariously, swaying towards the canvas below, Stevens grabs him by his hair, and with a roar, hoists him up onto his shoulders! Stevens stands up, carefully negotiating his way to the top rope, eyeing up the table he set up earlier in the match, before he leaps off the turnbuckle...
Joe Hoffman: HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM!!!
Benny Newell: You’re fucking right we do, Hoffman! That could well have killed Townsend!!
Joe Hoffman: Highly unlikely, Benny...but just as Townsend thought he had control of the match, Stevens pulls out his patented Death Valley Driver and now it’s anyone’s game!
Both men lay in the wreckage of the table outside of the ring as the crowd unleashes their first HOLY SHIT! chant of the match, neither man really moving. Eventually, just as the crowd starts to die down, Stevens starts to stir, rolling out of the wreckage. He starts to pull himself to his feet, with the help of the ring barricade as Townsend crawls towards the apron, getting some of his body underneath it as Stevens gets back up. The Scorpion grabs hold of one of Townsend’s feet, dragging him out from underneath the ring...only to find that Townsend had found himself a piece of plunder whilst underneath there! There’s enough time for shock to register on Stevens’ face before the signature weapon of Rhys Townsend’s supposed close, personal friend, Scottywood, rakes it’s way across Stevens’ face! Blood spurts all over the ringside area, The Scorpion staggering back as Townsend starts to pull himself back to his feet.
Benny Newell: See? I knew I had reason to have faith...Rhys’s close personal friend and our illustrious General Manager must have left that there for Townsend just in case a situation like this happened!
Joe Hoffman: Typical Scottywood, if you ask me. Can’t be in the match, but does his best to insert himself into it anyway.
Benny Newell: Fuck you, Hoffman! You know that’s the guy who’s like, the general fucking manager, right?
Joe Hoffman: Yes, Benny, I am aware of that...
Benny Newell: So stop being a fucking douchebag then. DRINK!
Townsend grasps the apron, slowly pulling himself back to his feet as Stevens can’t see anything, blood flowing freely into his eyes. Rhys doesn’t waste time, grabbing him by his head as he drags him towards the announcer’s table, slamming his head off it! Stevens staggers backwards from the impact, and Townsend attempts to grab him by his forehead, but his hand slip, Stevens blood stopping him from getting a firm grip, so instead, he just rams him into the apron! Stevens doesn’t go down like a heap of shit, staying up and throwing a few blind punches, missing as Townsend easily evades them. He waits for the moment, before he reaches in and snaps off a vicious DDT! Stevens connects hard with the floor, as again, with a lot of effort, and the help of the announcer’s table, Townsend drags himself back to his feet. He walks over to one of the ladders stacked around ringside, and with considerable effort, bridges the gap from apron to announcer’s table with the ladder.
Joe Hoffman: I don’t know what kind of torture that’s going through Townsend’s head right now, but it doesn’t look good for Stevens at all.
Benny Newell: It’s the predictable end, Hoffman! It’s coming and it’s going to be fucking awesome! DRINK!
Townsend looks at the prone, possibly unconcious Stevens, and he reaches down, picking him up and dumping him onto the apron. He follows him up onto there, and with his back to the ladder, he measures the distance before he reaches through Stevens’ legs, clasping in the wristlock. With a roar, he lifts and throws Stevens through the air, firing off a millimeter perfect Sublimation, Stevens’ back impacting onto the ladder, bending it slightly as the Chicago crowd “oooh’s!”
Benny Newell: HE JUST SPLIT MY DRINK BUT I STILL LOVE HIM!
Joe Hoffman: These two are just trading moves here, folks, back and forth! Neither man is willing to give up, neither man is willing to let the other be able to claim that he’s the better man as they go at it! You have to wonder exactly how much their bodies can take before they just...give out.
Benny Newell: Well, Rhys can take more, obviously. He’ll just shoot up and boom...TOWNSEND SMASH!
Joe Hoffman: The mind might be willing, but the body may not be capable, Benny. We’ll see.
Stevens rolls off the ladder, falling hard onto the floor. The jolt seems to wake him up slightly, as he starts to stir. Townsend looks down at him, shaking his head, questioning exactly what it is he has to do to keep the man down. Looking to pre-empt Stevens, he ducks underneath the ladder and stomps on the back of Stevens head, driving him back to the floor. Stevens again, doesn’t stay still, pushing himself up by his knuckles as again, Townsend stamps on the back of his head, looking around for something to use. He doesn’t find anything, again, stamping on the back of Stevens’ head, but that, if anything, seems to do little more than wake him up, increasing the speed of his ascent. Townsend looks quite genuinely pissed off as he starts to fire ineffectual punches at Stevens, the ICON Champion clearly on an adrenaline rush! Stevens is up, Townsend’s face a picture of bloodstained shock as the Champion starts to fire fists of his own, knocking down the Best Alliance member time after time!
Townsend eventually gets up, a little too groggy for his own good as Stevens delivers a vicious headbutt! Townsend staggers backwards, clattering into the ladder and Stevens takes the opportunity to smash his head against it! Townsend slumps, as Stevens grabs hold of his arm, opening the ladder and ramming it inside. In a rare display for the fans, Stevens points at the turnbuckle in the same sort of way you point at the drink you want after you’ve had one too many, and he begins his slow, inexorable progress to the top turnbuckle. He gets up there, and, fortunately for him, Townsend still hasn’t moved, though he appears to be aware that his arm’s trapped...but he doesn’t move it in time as Stevens leaps through the air, smashing ribcage off ladder as he crushes Townsend’s arm in the ladder! Both men fly away from the canvas, primal howls of pain coming from Townsend as he clutches his right arm, the arm Stevens just crushed!
Benny Newell: Stop the match! Stop the fucking match! We could have a Best Alliance getting injured here...
Joe Hoffman: You know that’s not going to happen, Benny...
Benny Newell: No shit, Hoffhole. But there’s some injustice going on here...I bet Stevens is on the juice, too. It’s the only explaination...
Joe Hoffman: Or he’s really willing to do what everyone hopes they can do at some point - give absolutely everything. Leave every ounce of themselves in the ring, in the match. Both men, for that matter, are doing that, and you have to wonder how much further they can push it.
Benny Newell: Well, they have to keep pushing it...I don’t wanna be sat here all night while we wait for one of them to climb the fucking ladder.
Townsend’s howls of pain have stopped, the young wrestler lying nearly motionless, holding his arm as he does so. Stevens gets back up, and takes a long look at the twisted remains of the ladder as he clutches his ribcage, hurling it out of the way as he makes a beeline for a chair that one of the ring crew is sat on. Hurling crewmembers out of the way, he grabs a pair of chairs, slowly, carefully enclosing Townsend’s right arm with one chair before smashing it with the other! More primal howls of pain reverberate around the Best Arena, as Stevens looks down at a job he considers to be done, as he slowly rolls back into the ring.
Benny Newell: No...not like this...c’mon Rhys...fucking shoot up or something!
Joe Hoffman: I don’t think he’s in a position to do that right now, Benny.
Benny Newell: No? Well, Big Buff ain’t standing for that. No he ain’t. God gave me this just in case...
Stevens grabs the ladder from earlier, again, setting it up in the middle of the ring and beginning his slow but steady climb towards the top, as Benny makes a very brief excursion to the front of his announcer’s table, not even bothering to take his headset off as he rams one of the same syringes we saw at Rumble at the Rock right into Townsend’s neck! He quickly moves back to his seat as Townsend twitches a few times, the tension palpable inside the Best Arena as Stevens inches closer to the Championship! Townsend slowly comes around, sitting up, his face a picture of roid rage as Stevens gets to the top, stopping to steady himself. Townsend pulls himself into the ring right as Stevens reaches for the Championship. The drugs, or maybe just good old fashioned will to win powers Townsend as he strides over towards the ladder and somehow, picks it up off the canvas! Stevens’ head smacks against the ICON Championship, sending it swinging madly around in the rafters of the arena as Townsend walks the ladder towards the edge of the ring, hurling both ladder and man outside of the ring! Surprise is written all over Stevens’ face as he arcs through the air, creating his own personal ground zero somewhere in row seven or eight as the unaffected crowd members burst into holy shit chants!
Benny Newell: The drugs, Hoffman, the drugs! They’re the answer to absolutely fucking everything! Life, the universe and everything!
Joe Hoffman: I thought that was 42.
Benny Newell: What? Are you dropping some nerd shit on me right now, Hoffman? Because I can’t take it. I really can’t. All I want right now is for Rhys to get out the ring, get another ladder and climb up.
Joe Hoffman: It certainly looks to be in his favor at the moment...but he’s still got to get up there, and with that bad arm? It’s not going to be an easy task.
Townsend collapses in the ring, clearly having given absolutely every last ounce of himself with that move. Breathing heavily, he takes plenty of time to roll out of the ring and retrieve a ladder, struggling to slide it under the bottom rope, one handedly. Eventually, he does it, and he follows it in, dragging it to the middle. He attempts to set it up one handed, but repeatedly fails. He gives in and uses his other arm, screaming out every time he uses it. In the crowd, Stevens has just about come around to consciousness, dragging himself inch by inch towards the ring, as Townsend starts to climb. It doesn’t look like Stevens is going to quite get there in time, Townsend having ascended to the top of the ladder...but the still-swinging belt poses quite a challenge for a one armed man. Townsend waits, trying to time it right to clasp it with both hands, but he keeps missing. Stevens pulls himself into the ring, slowly pulling himself to the top of the ladder, and the two men once more, exchange blows!
Benny Newell: DRINK!
Joe Hoffman: What for, exactly?
Benny Newell: This one’s about to be over, Hoffman! Done! New ICON Champion!
In the middle of the exchange, Townsend unleashes a ball of phlegm and blood...mostly blood, let’s be honest here, right into Stevens’ face! Stevens staggers back, the ladder swaying dangerously as he does so, but Townsend manages to reach up and clasp both hands around the belt! He starts to unbuckle it one by one...and right as there’s only one buckle left to remove, Stevens grabs hold of his head and smashes it off the top of the ladder! Stevens stops for a second, drawing in deep breath after deep breath, before he looks at Rhys, and looks at the drop. He climbs a few more steps before he reaches down and grabs the still prone Townsend, hoisting him up into a powerbomb....and Townsend wakes up as he sits in the powerbomb, his one good arm flailing wildly at the championship belt! Stevens quickly realises what’s going on as the crowd’s positively ready to explode and hurls Townsend forward! Townsend arcs through the air, flying just past the ring ropes and crashing down hard on the outside of the ring! A holy shit accompanies Stevens unbuckling the Championship, as the bell finally rings!
Bryan McVay: And your winner in 29 minutes and 32 seconds and STILL HOW ICON CHAMPION.....SCOTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT STEEEEEEEEEEVEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Stevens doesn’t even raise the Championship, doesn’t even get a chance to do that as right after he unbuckled the belt, he dropped to the canvas. EMT’s, accompanied by stretchers charge down to ringside as we go back to the time honored shot of our Hall of Fame commentary duo.
Joe Hoffman: Wow, folks...what a match. Just...what a match. My partner here’s too busy crying into his whiskey to talk right now, but let me assure you that he’d be screaming about this being an injustice. Either way, both men put it all on the line tonight, gave absolutely everything they had in that ring tonight, and boy, were we treated to a great match.