Post by Jman2k3 on Jun 15, 2018 6:10:14 GMT
The Jesus Complex; Atlantic City, NJAug 23rd 2013 / Fri 07:00PM
Teaser:
..
Results:
The HOV hums to life as HOW Friday Night Chaos gets underway, live on Best Studios. The HOW logo flashes across the screen, and as the opening video to the show begins to play the camera pans across the arena. Rabid fans have flocked in from New Jersey and New York City alike, and they’re holding up painstakingly handcrafted signs for the cameras.
#HARDCORPORATE
CHRIS DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH
EVAN WENT TO HEAVEN
ATLANTIC CITY BETS ON BLACK
DAT HAIRCUT
#TWEETSFROMHELL
As the camera comes back around, it settles on the Hall of Fame announce team of Joe Hoffman and “Big Buff” Benny Newell, located behind their commentary table as per the usual. Joe is going over last minute production notes, while Benny Newell is actually standing up behind the table. He’s facing the crowd, screaming at a woman behind him to take off her shirt as he chucks dollar bills in her direction.
Joe Hoffman: Hello ladies and gentlemen and WELCOME to the return edition of HOW Friday Night Chaos! Joining me as always is Hall of Famer and independant legend “Big Buff” Benny Newell...
Benny Newell: WHORE! SHOW ME YOUR FUCKING TITS!
Joe Hoffman: ….and I’m Joe Hoffman. Thanks for that, Benny. Tonight it’s the Lethal Lottery, and what better place to roll the dice than The Jesus Complex, in Atlantic City, New Jersey? HOW’s champions will have to be on their guard tonight, as every title is contested and nobody is safe-- literally anyone could walk out a champion here tonight, folks.
Benny Newell: I’VE THROWN LIKE EIGHTY DOLLARS AT YOU! GIMME A NIPPLE! BAH, FUCK YOU!
Benny grumbles, slamming down into his seat at commentary as Joe glares daggers into him.
Joe Hoffman: ….tonight is especially dangerous, Benny, because unlike most Lethal Lottery events, no card has been announced! It’s going to be a night full of surprises, so stayed tuned-- you’re not going to want to miss a single moment of Friday Night Chaos!
As soon as Joe takes a breath, the break in airtime is overtaken by the Jesus Complex sound system and the heavy guitar riff lead-in to “The Best Around” by Joe Esposito. After the events of Monday Night Mayhem, even a hometown crowd is booing for World Champion Michael Lee Best as he makes his way out from behind the curtain. Wearing the HOW World Championship around his waist and what appears to be an actual solid gold suit, Mike also appears to have some kind of a sling over his left arm, leaving his forearm and hand hanging limply above his ribcage.
He has a microphone in his right hand.
Joe Hoffman: Tonight’s show is going to start out with a word from world champion Mike Best, folks, and for once I can’t say that I object. After what happened in Monday night’s main event, I think the world-- myself included-- is eager to hear some kind of an explanation.
Benny Newell: Mike Best and Scottywood. The savior and the Anti-Christ! HA! I swear to God, Hoffman, if you shit all over this I’m going to beat the fuck out of you.
Slowly, the HOW World Champion makes his way down the ramp and toward the stairs. He takes in the roaring boos, hatred louder than he’s heard in quite some time from the HOW faithful. As he ducks under the ropes and climbs into the ring, he paces across the middle of the canvas for a moment, waiting for the crowd to die down.
At a dull roar, he raises the microphone.
Mike Best: Last week, Evan Ward pushed me to the limit.
The crowd cheers voraciously, not for Michael Lee Best but for his admission that Evan Ward gave up a hell of a fight. Mike listens to the cheers, nodding his head and agreement. He jerks at his shoulder a little bit, still looking to be in some pain.
Mike Best: It was his limit, of course, not mine. But a limit was reached nonetheless. And though I have gotten word that Evan Ward at this very moment is lying in a hospital bed with a feeding tube down his throat… that he may never wake up… I regret to inform the High Octane faithful that I too have sustained a serious injury.
The crowd remains relatively docile, as he shakes his head and continues to pace back and forth. He looks legitimately concerned, and after the impact of a brutal main event on Monday night, the fans are curious to see exactly what is wrong with him. He tries to roll his shoulder around, but simply winces in pain.
Mike Best: See, in the final moments of HOW’s Monday Night Mayhem, as the show was going off the air and the dust was settling over most controversial match in recent memory, I reached up and I delivered a high five to the man who assisted me in outsmarting Evan Ward last week. No, not just a high five five-- the HIGHEST of fives. It was practically a high SIX. And unfortunately, as the two most dangerous left hands in the history of professional sports collided, I think I-- well, I’m sorry to say that I tweaked my pinky finger, just so. So Evan Ward, as you lie in the intensive care unit tonight, barely holding on, just know that I feel for you, brother. I’m right there with you.
The boos immediately pick back up to full strength, but the angry wave of hatred splashing against the ring only seems to increase the intensity of Michael Best’s smile. He grins out at the crowd like it’s his fucking birthday, letting it wash over him like a warm spring rain.
Mike Best: Yes, boooooooo. BOOOOOOO, I SAY! Boo, because Evan Ward let everyone down. He showed his true colors last week. He said I’d have to kill him. That I could pull out any maneuver, that I could use any weapon against him, and that he’d stand back up. That he would KEEP… getting… up. Well I had a secret weapon, ladies and gentlemen, and Evan Ward did NOT get back up. He did NOT keep fighting. He gave up on himself… he gave up on the match… and most importantly, Octantites… he gave up on you.
He shakes his head pitifully, staring at the mat as the boos somehow grow even louder. A voracious chant of “YOU SOLD OUT” begins somewhere in the rafters, but quickly grows until most of the New Jersey arena is embroiled in the chant as well. The champion nods his head, acknowledging it, but it doesn’t seem to bother him too much.
Mike Best: I sold out? Yes. Yes I did. Does that really surprise anyone? See that’s… that’s not really the point here tonight. Booooo, Mike Best is an asshole. Booo, Mike Best sold out. And a bear shits in the woods too, so why don’t we just chant about things that are plain and fucking obvious? Come on, folks! POPE-IS-CATHOLIC! CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!
Yes, he actually says the word “clap” five times. He doesn’t have much of a choice-- with a microphone in one hand and a sling on the other, it’s his only real recourse considering the circumstances. Unsurprisingly, the crowd does not join in on the chant. Instead, they just keep booing. You know, because they’re not particularly creative.
Mike Best: So yes, I sold out. I sold out, and now I’m standing here in the middle of an HOW ring in the majestic Jesus Complex in Atlantic City with the HOW World Championship around his waist. And forever it will be noted in the annals of High Octane history that I beat Evan Ward by legitimate count in a Falls Count Anywhere match.
From the belly of the arena, a loud “EVAN WARD!” chant breaks out amongst the HOW faithful. The chant grows and grows, until nearly every man, woman, and child in attendance is cheering for the last remaining bastion of good in High Octane Wrestling. Mike smirks inside the ring, shaking his head.
Suddenly, his smirk fades as “Good Day To Die” by Mishkin begins to blast over the speakers! The fans practically jump the guardrails in excitement, screaming for Evan Ward as his music shuts up one of the most hated men in the company. Inside the ring, Mike Best’s eyes practically bulge out of his fucking head-- he backs up into the ropes, looking for an escape route in advance as through the curtain, out bursts...
...acting HOW owner Scott “Scottywood” Woodson.
Michael Best snickers inside the ring, putting away his “scared face” as he signals for the music to be cut. The crowd slowly realizes what’s going on, and the deafening cheers are quickly replaced with a chorus of boos that would make the Mormon Tabernacle back up their shit and get out. Mike cackles in the ring as Scotty stands at the top of the ramp, dramatically waving to the crowd and enjoying their disappointment.
Mike Best: He’s not here, douchebags! Evan Ward is never going to walk again. He’s gonna be eating meals through a tube for the rest of his short, miserable life. So how about you forget about your precious little hero, and give a warm welcome to a man who deserves your applause? Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. SCOTT…. WOODSON! Give it up, folks!
Scottywood takes a bow.
He’s wearing a well fitting black suit, his now short red hair slicked back as it was at the end of Mayhem four days ago. He’s also holding a microphone, and he smirks as he makes his way down the ramp. Scottywood climbs up the ring steps, where Mike is happy to hold the ropes for him. He ducks into the ring, staring right into the eyes of Michael Lee Best as the two look at eachother for a moment. And then, in the single most heretical act in the history of either man’s career, the two sworn enemies reach out…
….and HUG.
The crowd could not be booing any louder, and they once watched Lee Best spike a baby.
Mike Best: You show some goddamned respect to the acting owner of High Octane Wrestling, you fucking mouth breathers! This man is a Hall of Famer! The greatest HOFC Champion in the history of this company! For God’s SAKE, you idiots, LOOK AT THIS MAN’S HAIR! RESPECT THIS MAN’S HAIRCUT!
Mike looks out at the crowd, who would happily jump into the ring right now and slit his throat, just to show their friends on Facebook. The inside of the arena is, fittingly enough, absolute chaos. Scotty pats Mike on the shoulder, thanking him for the kind words, and they shake hands in the middle of the ring. Mike points at Scottywood, as he continues his diatribe.
Mike Best: This man deserves your adulation. Not some goody two shoes boyscout, prattling on about fair play and sportsmanship. This man standing next to me? He helped me to send a message last Monday. He helped me to let all the boys in the back know that there is no room for heroes in the new High Octane Wrestling. They are not welcome. They are not a part of the new order. And anyone who decides to step forward-- anyone in the back right now, feeling like maybe he wants to walk down that ramp and try to follow in Evan Ward’s footsteps? You will end up just like he did.
He looks more than happy to deliver that revelation to the crowd, who seem more uncomfortable at this point than angry. Fans squirm in their seats as they watch HOW potentially beginning to unravel itself in the ring right in front of them.
Michael stands tall next to his new partner.
Mike Best: I am the sword, and Scott Woodson is the crown. The two men standing in this ring make up one hundred percent of the power players in High Octane Wrestling, and I am HUMBLED in his presence. I am HUMBLED, because this man was intelligent enough to realize how badly HOW needed Mike Best. He was intelligent enough to realize that he needed me under contract, and to do everything I asked of him to make sure that the HOW World Championship stayed within this company. Ladies and gentlemen this man humbles me in his presence, and I’d like to give him an opportunity right now to get this show properly underway. Folks please, one more time, let’s here it for the acting owner of HOW, SCOTTYWOOOOOOD!
Smiling at Mike, Scotty thanks him for the warm introduction as he then turns to the Atlantic City crowd which is continuing to boo the duo.
Scott Woodson: Shut the fu… I mean… please control yourselves. You are currently being graced with the presence of both the six time HOW World Champion AND a Hall of Famer who is soon to be the complete owner of HOW.
Of course, Scotty’s request goes unfilled as the fans continue to boo and Scotty just shakes his head.
Scott Woodson: Well then I’ll just keep this short and sweet for you fuckers. Due to Mike Best’s very serious, not at all exaggerated injury after his grueling World title match against Evan Ward… I have made an executive decision. The World Title match for tonight’s Lethal Lottery… is cancelled.
More boos rain down on the duo as Scotty goes to huck his beer bottle at them… but then realizes it is not there.
Scott Woodson: Really? You’re gonna boo that? You’re gonna boo that, when you people have never in your lives worked as hard as Mike Best worked on the past two HOW shows. He deserves tonight off… a night to recover from a match that left Evan Ward in a medically induced coma.
Joe Hoffman: Oh ya, must have been real tough on Mike Best.
Benny Newell: What did I say Joe? Fucks beaten outta you!
Scott Woodson: NOW… with business taken care of… let’s get this Lottery underway with… well you fuckers will just have to stay tuned and find out.
“Drink, Drank, Drunk” by Hellyeah hits as Scottywood raises Mike’s hand… taking extra care to avoid his injuried pink and raises it up in the air as we cut to a commercial break.
We cut backstage to find Chris Diamond walking down the hallway towards Silent Witness’ locker room. Just as he almost gets to the door a plethora of Security Guards block the doorway and interlock their arms almost like the dudes on 300. One of the guards puts and hand out and starts to talk in a firm tone.
Security Guard: Stop right there Diamond. You’re not allowed in this room or around Silent Witness.
Chris Diamond: What the fuck is this all about? WITNESS!!! Get your pussy-ass out here right now. You need to answer for what you did last week.
The door slowly swings open and out steps the LSD Legend, hiding behind a wall of guards and waving at Diamond, mocking him.
Silent Witness: Hello there, Chris. I’d like to say that it’s a surprise to see you, but as you can see, you are as predictable as a Rhys Townsend hashtag. You don’t get to touch me tonight, unless it’s for that LSD Championship you constantly discredit.
Pissed off even more than before, Diamond tries to push his way passed the guards to get at Witness but is unable to break through.
Silent Witness: Calm down, Christopher; this isn’t the place for fighting, is it? Your fans have paid good money to see their hero get his ass handed to him in the ring, not backstage. But as you’re here, I’ll take the opportunity to tell you a few home truths.
He pauses for a moment, as Diamond paces back and forth; trying to find a way through. Silent Witness smirks at the LSD Champion; watching him behave like a caged animal, trying to find a way out.
Silent Witness: You’re nothing to these fans. They will turn on you the moment the bell rings and you lose your title tonight. They turned on me; just like you did. The difference is, I can handle it; I’ve been in this situation before. You, on the other hand… You can’t handle a football. Make the most of these final few minutes as LSD Champion, Christopher; they’re the final few minutes of relevance in your pathetic career. Those idiots out there live in a corrupt world, where people are tossed aside the moment they have no longer have a use; it’s all they know. You’re next in line to be tossed on the scrap-head, Chris…
He smirks at the LSD Champion again; looking him up and down.
Silent Witness: Good luck…
With that, Silent Witness turns and steps back inside his locker room. As he shuts the door, Diamond charges the guards. They force him back; not allowing the LSD Champion through their barricade. Diamond steps back, calming himself, before pointing towards the door.
Chris Diamond: I hope we meet out there in the ring tonight Witness because these guards won’t be able to protect you then.
With that, Diamond turns and walks away as we cut elsewhere..
“Now what the hell is this I hear about betrayal, Professor?”
An ominous open to Scottywood sitting behind an appropriately adorned desk of an elegant cherry finish, and the first thing that is painfully obvious to everyone is that this is not the Best Alliance locker room, but more of an office-type setup...
...Mr. Woodson's office; complete with engrained nameplate, a cup full of designer pens, ballpoints, mind you, paperweights of various designs, etc.
Mr. Woodson is at the helm, of course, the seat of office and importance, whereas we see Professor Keller and Lord Sektor both in the client seats opposite him. Scotty doesn’t seem the least bit amused, though Sektor does, while The Good Professor is a mask of no emotion.
It was Scotty’s rough-hewn voice that opened the scene, and now his eyes nearly bore a hole through Professor Keller’s skull, still awaiting a response.
Mr. Woodson: Nothing to say, Keller? Nothing? Need I remind you that a betrayal against Lee, of any kind, would be a betrayal against us all? Need I remind you that-
Keller calmly clears his throat to take the floor without standing.
Prof. Keller: You know, Mr. Woodson, as tasteful as that suit from Kohl’s looks, I find it ill-fitting on you, a man of your, um... stature... I mean. You should be measured by a professional tailor, and I know just the-
Scotty cuts him off with an outburst, slamming his fist into his desk hard enough to leave an imprint, and mar the beautiful dark cherry finish.
Mr. Woodson: GODDAMN IT, KELLER!! We are not hear to discuss my suit! We are hear to discuss your insolence! First you have the temerity to name me a pushover last week, then you go so far as to threaten betrayal against Lee Best himself this week?!
Scottywood takes a breath, seething…
Mr. Woodson: One more word about my suit, my haircut, or anything else besides your recent disgusting verbal discourse, and I’ll have your tongue removed! I could already have you publicly flogged, sucked off by a cow, and thrown from the building along with whatever's left of your credibility! I could have you-
Quiet thus far, Lord Sektor finally speaks up, though no longer smiling.
Lord Sektor: -Eeeaaasy there, Scotty… I too would like to hear what our partner-in-atrocities has to say for himself. After all, he accused me of “ass kissing” for merely mourning the man who was much like a father to me, not even two months in his grave now. Harsh words, indeed, but whether you want to accept it or not, Professor, Lee WAS like a father to me. The man took me in, under his wing, so to speak, giving me a second chance at a career… at life… even after I had fought so hard to bring him down, not to mention after I had just disappeared on him, and the company, for no good viable reason.
The Professor merely scoffs into his hand.
Prof. Keller: Speaking of which, what the hell did he ever do for me except to feed off of my successes like some kind of vulture? I went fifteen wins and zero losses, not counting that damned fourth wall, obviously, and without so much as a single title shot, except for the one that he pretty much had to give me to not look petty, and only then because the LSD Championship just so happened to be in the same bracket as me in the LBI tournament. Hmm? What, I ask you?
Somehow Scotty keeps his cool, though his fist remains tightened into a ball, knuckles a pale white from the strain.
Mr. Woodson: Keller... do you have ANY idea how fucking selfish that sounds, even coming from you? How absolutely low?
His temper rises, his tone threatens, harsh and grating now…
Mr. Woodson: DO YOU?!!
A precarious silence dominates the room, Keller’s eyes downcast. Shame, perhaps? Perhaps. Impossible, you say? Perhaps that as well.
But it’s Lord Sektor who speaks up again, now calmly stroking that magnificent mustache of his.
Lord Sektor: Oh yes, I think he does, Scotty. You’ve shamed him mute with his ridiculous complaints of title shots not received, and he wears it like a shawl. However, this deserves some explanation, Professor, and I would hear it.
Scotty growls his confirmation.
Mr. Woodson: NOW.
The Good Professor addresses the floor, his shoes, anything but his partners accusatory eyes.
Prof. Keller: You really want to know?
Lord Sektor: I do… and the truth of it this time.
Prof. Keller: Truly?
Mr. Woodson: Just spit it the fuck out, Keller!
Prof. Keller: Fine.
He spreads his empty hands before him in a gesture of mock defeat before finally looking up directly into Scotty’s cold glare.
Prof. Keller: Very well then… Where were you when Lee fought Kostoff, Scotty? Hmm... Mr. Woodson?
Scotty seems taken aback by the question, and contemplates the trap before answering.
Mr. Woodson: I told you before, as I have told everyone… I was preparing for my match, perhaps the biggest match of my career.
Prof. Keller: So you are saying you were too busy to save our fearless leader, is that it then?
Mr. Woodson: Piss off, Keller! I had my orders! Now where the hell were you, huh?!
But The Good Professor chooses not to hear the question fired back at him, and instead turns to the once calm and detached John Sektor, now growing more uncomfortable in his chair.
Prof. Keller: And you, Lord Sektor? Where were you when this man who was "like a father to you" was being buried in cement? Hmm?
Lord Sektor: I’ll be honest with you, Professor, though I don’t like your tone, or where this is going, I will answer you nonetheless… I was told to stand clear. I was told to not interfere at all, not to show my face at ringside, because Lee said he could handle Kostoff. He told me that the entire world needed to see that he wasn’t afraid of that loser, and that he could get rid of the man once and for all... by himself... no help... no excuses.
Instead of seeming pleased by the responses he wanted, The Professor only sighs, a deep depression settling over him.
Prof. Keller: To answer your question a moment ago, Mr. Woodson… I was told much the same. I obeyed, as did both of you, yet… yet… where is Lee now?
Again, silence only answers the obvious and rhetorical… until, rather surprisingly, it is The Professor who responds with an outburst of his own, unspeakable and unheard of tears nearly stinging his eyes.
Prof. Keller: He abandoned us! He's gone! He left us in our greatest time of need, just when we were getting back on our feet! I begged him, Scotty! I begged him, John! I fucking begged! "Let me take care of Kostoff," I pleaded with Lee, but he promised me, as he promised all of you, that he could take care of the so-called monster of HOW, that he didn’t need our help!
The Professor collapses meekly back into his seat, nearly sobbing, and both Scotty and Sektor seem unexpectedly moved -or shocked- into a quiet stillness. Even Scotty now looks away, visibly uncomfortable with the memory.
Prof. Keller: Well… maybe we needed him... did he ever stop to think of it that way? He had absolutely NOTHING to prove to anyone! He ran the greatest empire the world had ever seen since Alexander The Great, yet he waltzed out there like some kind of hero and got himself killed! All for nothing!
The Professor is forced to wipe an emaculate Versace handkerchief across his face... before then darkening with rage.
Prof. Keller: My blood still boils every time I see Kostoff and his painted up whore for a wife laughing about what they had done to Lee as they walked out of the arena.
Sektor reaches a consoling hand to grasp Keller’s arm, but reconsiders, unsure of what to do really. Instead, he merely speaks in a hushed tone.
Lord Sektor: Calm down man... You don’t think this shit has been bothering all of us?
Scotty clears his throat to speak, his anger subsided.
Mr. Woodson: Of course it has, but we each have a duty to perform, a job to do…
Scotty glances at the gleaming new Rolex on his wrist.
Mr. Woodson: …and right now your up for duty, Professor. Go on, get yourself ready.
The Professor nods, seemingly thankful to have something else to occupy his thoughts, and pulls himself from his chair, even shaking Lord Sektor’s hand as he wishes him luck.
Mr. Woodson: Oh, and Professor… all this nonsense is forgotten from this moment on. I will hear no more of your insolent talk; not in a promo, not in one of your shoots for a segment, not anywhere, are we understood?
A solemn nod greets this uncommon act of clemency.
Prof. Keller: We are understood, Mr. Woodson.
Mr. Woodson: Excellent… now go take back what is rightfully ours.
A wry smile finally creases The Good Professor’s features.
Prof. Keller: I will. Tonight I’m fighting tooth and nail for Lee Best’s honor... you can count on victory.
He exit’s the room rather confidently, but as the door closes with him, Scotty can be heard to mutter under his breath, more to himself than anyone else…
Mr. Woodson: Oh, I assure you... I am.
The shot cuts away
Backstage the camera picks up on woman who is standing at the pop machine. The camera zooms in on her as she is retrieving a can of pop. The woman is dressed rather oddly in a long brown skirt hanging past her knees and a tan blouse with short sleeves. Her heels are low and her hair is swept up in the back in some bun like style.
Blair Moise is seen entering the hall when she sees the woman at the machine. Walking up to her she stands beside her with her microphone in her hand.
Blair: Excuse me, have we met? Are you a new signee or a visitor? Can I be of any assistance?
The woman hardly acknowledged her and was messing with the change still in the machine. The only response she gets is that of a slight nod.
Woman: Can you just go beg the crap out of someone else?
Blair: I was only offering some assistance. I don’t remember seeing you before.
The woman finally stands and turns around facing HOW’s favorite interviewer. There is clearly shock on her face when Blair realizes that she has indeed seen her before. The woman standing before her was none other than the Hellcat Kirsta Lewis. She was clearly sporting stitches around the corner of her mouth, her complexion paler than the last time she was seen and had lost at least ten to fifteen pounds. Blair also noticed some fresh scars on both of her forearms.
Blair: KIRSTA! I hardly recognized you. What’s going on with you?
Kirsta: What do you mean? Nothing’s going on with me. What the hell Blair.
Blair couldn’t help but look her over from her head to her feet as she nods, shaking her head from side to side. She waves her hand around signifying what she was wearing.
Blair: This is not you, why the clothes and what the hell is wrong with your face? Were you in some kind of an accident or something?
Kirsta: Oh you would just love to be the one to break that news wouldn’t you? Sorry to burst your bubble but no.
Blair puts out her hands in front of her and takes a step back.
Blair: Sorry no offense, but you look terrible, I’ve never seen you dress like this. You just don’t seem yourself lately.
Kirsta: Was there some memo sent out that I missed or something about a dress code. I must have missed it if there was. Look all I wanted was a god damned can of coke and I get the third fucking degree. If you don’t mind I’d like to find a quiet place to relax, and enjoy my pop while it’s still cold.
Blair: Have you spoken to either Jace or Tara since what went down in the ring a few weeks ago?
Kirsta: Oh so now your interviewing me? Haven’t got the time for this. No to answer your question, but I didn’t think that I would. Suits me just fine too. They had an opportunity with Lethal Lottery to actually do something in HOW. They did nothing but sit on their asses just like they’ve been doing all along.
Kirsta opened her coke and took a drink of it as she brushed past Blair and didn’t say another word to her. Blair tried getting more out of her but Kirsta shut her down with a wave of her hand as we cut to ringside for the first match of the night!!!
We cut to inside the arena and we see Scottywood standing in the middle of the ring, still in his Kohl’s suit with microphone and Sam Adams Octoberfest in hand. The Atlantic City crowd once again booing the Acting Owner of HOW as he just smirks and takes a drink of his beer.
Scott Woodson: I promised a start to the Lethal Lottery… and we will get to that. But first I would like to bring down to the ring the LSD champion Chris Diamond… and the ICON champion Scott Stevens. So men… would you please join me in my ring?
Joe Hoffman: Are we going to find out the two men who drew the LSD and ICON title shots tonight?
Benny Newell: Yes… Scottywood and Mike Best. You will see a double champion crowned tonight!
Scott Woodson: Come on fuckers… don’t bother with the music shit, I ain’t got all fucking night here.
We see Chris Diamond and Scott Stevens both walk out… each giving the other space as neither have a pleasant relationship with the other. But they make their way down and enter the ring along with Scottywood.
Scott Woodson: Thank you guys. Now as you both saw earlier tonight… I gave Mike Best the night off from defending his HOW World Title. So I wanted to bring you two out here now to extend… not the same courtesy.
Joe Hoffman: Oh come on!
Scott Woodson: See neither of you suffered a severe injury last night. So yes, both the ICON and LSD titles will be on the line tonight…
Joe Hoffman: Of course.
Scott Woodson: In the same match!
Joe Hoffman: What!?!
Scott Woodson: Yes, an over the top elimination Evan Ward Memorial challenge where every two minutes a new man will enter and the winner will be the new number one contender for Mike Best’s HOW World title… and that starts… NOW!
Benny Newell: Fuck yeah!
Scott Woodson: Oh… and whoever eliminate you fuckers… will take your titles. Which luckily for you… won’t be myself. Since as this match is for a World title shot… I will be eliminating myself.
Benny Newell: WHAT?
Joe Hoffman: He’s not pulling a Defiance?
Scotty smirks as he tosses the mic out of the ring, calls for the bell and then steps over the top rope and down to the floor.
Joe Hoffman: Wow, Scottywood really did just eliminate himself as this royal rum….
Benny Newell: Over The Top Rope Evan Ward Memorial Challenge!
Joe Hoffman: Yes… that, starts right now.
Stevens and Diamond turn and look at each other as they start trading blows with each other as Scotty makes his way over to the announce table and takes a seat next to Benny Newell and pulls a cooler of beer out from underneath it.
Joe Hoffman: Not sick of doing commentary Scotty?
Scott Woodson: That is Mister Woodson… and no, not when you sorry ass is still boring the fuck outta people.
Benny Newell: BURN!
Stevens boots Diamond in the gut and plants him with a DDT in the middle of the ring and quickly locks Diamond into a crippler crossface submission move.
Benny Newell: The Venomous Wrath of the Goddess Selket! Tap bitch!
Joe Hoffman: It’s an over the top rope match!
Diamond struggles but he can’t escape the move as he starts to violently tap out to the move… but as Hoffman stated, it’s an over the top rope elimination match. So Stevens just leaves the hold in for another twenty seconds before he just lets go. Diamond rolls off to the corner and starts to pulls himself back up as Stevens clotheslines Diamond over the top rope.
Joe Hoffman: He lands on the apron!
Diamond ducks a punch from Stevens and shoulders him in the gut as he gets back into the ring and the countdown for the third entrants starts.
Crowd: 5…. 4….. 3….. 2….. 1……
“Coming Very Soon” hits and the crowd goes wild and David Black starts to run down towards the ring.
Benny Newell: The personality filled David Black!
Scott Woodson: Hush Benny… it’s coming soon in an update.
Joe Hoffman: Poor David Black…
Black slides into the ring and heads straight for Chris Diamond as Black starts hammering on Diamond as he backs him into the corner and starts just unleashing on the man that took his LSD title from him. Black pulls Diamond out of the corner, kicks Diamond in the gut and nails the codebreaker on him.
Joe Hoffman: Blackout! Can Black reclaim his LSD title?
Diamond stumbles back up to his feet and towards the ropes as he is stumbles into the ropes where he is clotheslined over the top rope and to the floor.
Benny Newell: What a clothesline!
Joe Hoffman: Scott Stevens just stole the LSD title!
Bryan McVay: Chris Diamond is eliminated and your NEW HOW LSD CHAMPION IS SCOTT STEVENS!!
Joe Hoffman: Black hits the Blackout on Diamond and Stevens just steals the LSD out from under him!
Benny Newell: I know! How fucking awesome is that!
Scott Woodson: That is a Team Scottywood member right their folks. A smart fucking man who is now a double champion here in HOW.
Black is furious as he charges at Stevens and the two men start trading punches as the next clock starts to countdown.
Crowd: 5…. 4….. 3….. 2….. 1……
“30/30-150” by Stone Sour hits and the crowd rise in unison, booing loudly as Silent Witness swaggers out onto the stage.
Benny Newell: Witness!
Joe Hoffman: The LSD Legend is number four as he charges down to the ring.
Black nails Stevens with an elbow and quickly with the codebreaker as Stevens hits the mat and rolls out of the ring. Black doesn’t even think as he ducks through the ropes and goes after Stevens, landing more shots as Stevens tries his best to defend himself as he escapes over towards the announce table where we see Scottywood throw a shot of Benny’s jack right in David Black’s eyes and Stevens.
Benny Newell: Hey!
Scott Woodson: Well wasted on that fuck.
Stevens boots Black in the gut and nails the Stunner on him as Stevens grabs a steel chair and slides back into the ring.
Scott Woodson: See!
Benny Newell: Ok Scotty… I suppose that Jack died for a good cause.
Stevens stares down Black with the steel chair as we see Silent Witness run down to the ring as the next entrant and attacks Stevens from behind with a side Russian leg sweep. Witness then heads to the top rope and launches off with a leg drop that connects on Stevens as Black slides back into the ring and spears Witness.
Scott Woodson: A personality filled move by Black!
Joe Hoffman: Leave it alone Scotty… just leave it alone already.
Black pulls Witness up and throws him at the ropes but Witness hangs on as Black charges at him but Witness ducks and Black goes over the top rope, but lands on the apron as he nails Witness with a hard right and hangs him up on the top ropes before re-entering the ring.
Crowd: 5……. 4……….. 3……… 2………. 1…………
“I Get Off” by Halestorm hits as Kirsta Lewis explodes out from backstage and towards the ring.
Kirsta slides into the ring as she goes right after Black as they start trading punches before Kirsta knees Black in the gut and throws him into the ropes and tries to throw him over the top rope but she can’t as Black holds on and Witness quickly charges over and dumps Kirsta over the top rope.
Benny Newell: Don’t take the tits out already!
Joe Hoffman: She hangs on!
Kirsta does hang on as she slips back into the ring as Witness and Black continue to trade punches. Meanwhile Stevens has gotten back up to his feet and grabbed his steel chair as he starts swinging it like mad, leveling all three, Black, Witness and Kirsta with chair shots to the head.
Scott Woodson: There we go. Bring a little hardcore action to this borefest.
Joe Hoffman: Says the man who eliminated himself.
Scott Woodson: Shut your whore mouth Joe Hoffman.
Stevens slams the chair down on the ground as he grabs Kirsta’s and pulls her to his feet… but the crowd starts to countdown again.
Crowd: 5…… 4……. 3……. 2…… 1……….
“Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” by AC/DC as Sektor runs out and down towards the ring as Stevens goes for the chair but doesn’t have time as Sektor slides into the ring and the tow men face off trading punches in the center of the strewn bodies. Sektor lands hard right and opens a slight door for him to kick Stevens in the gut and nail a savate kick to the jaw as Stevens stumbles back to the corner.
Joe Hoffman: A fresh Sektor is taking easy advantage of the battle worn Stevens.
Scott Woodson: No Shit.
Kirsta and Witness are back on their feet as they start trading shots before Witness kicks her in the lower gut before grabbing hold of her and throwing her with a belly to belly suplex over the top rope and hard to the outside floor.
Bryan McVay: Kirsta Lewis has been eliminated!
Scott Woodson: Tears folks… cry your tears as Kirsta Lewis is fucking gone.
Crowd: 5…… 4……. 3……. 2…… 1……….
Joe Hoffman: It’s Professor Keller!
The intellegeciall stimulant of HOW, Keller races down towards the ring, smelling the prize that sits ahead of him as he is seemingly very excited to get start on this match.
Joe Hoffman: And that should be…
But from behind we see Damien Ryan run out from behind Keller and drill him with a hockey stick across the back as he continues down towards the ring, where he goes crazy with the stick nailing everyone once with it before he spots David Black getting back up and cross checks David Black over the top rope and to the floor.
Bryan McVay: David Black has been eliminated
Joe Hoffman: Damien Ryan just laid waste to everyone here… and then eliminated Black!
Benny Newell: Impressive for a Scottywood signing, huh?
Scott Woodson: What is that supposed to mean?
Benny Newell: I ummm
Scott Woodson: It’s cool, I know a lot of my signings suck ass...
As Ryan plays it up to the hard camera we see Silent Witness slowly get to his feet and the HOW Hall of Famer grabs Ryan by the back of the neck and sends the HOW newcomer over the top rope, eliminating the new signing.
Bryan McVay: Damien Ryan has been eliminated
But Ryan isnt happy as he looks up at the LSD Legend and he jumps back up on the apron and begins trading blows with Witness.
Suddenly Scott Stevens comes flying from across the ring and clotheslines Witness in the back of the head sending him and Ryan back to the arena floor.
Bryan McVay: Silent Witness has been eliminated
Joe Hoffman: Well business has picked up!!
Benny Newell: Huh what? This match is still going? I swear its like been over 12 hours long and Its like someone else has control over me now....ugh I need a drink.
Joe Hoffman: Well the new double champion of HOW, Scott Stevens, is on fire. Could he really become a triple champion here in HOW?
WHACK
That answer comes emphatically as Sektor smokes Stevens in the back of the head with a steel chair and lifts the limp body of Stevens up and tosses the ICON and LSD Champion over the top rope where HOW medics rush to him as he falls awkwardly onto the arena floor, completely knocked out.
Bryan McVay: Stevens has been eliminated and the new ICON Champion is JOHN SEKTOR!!!!
The man with the stache is smiling ear to ear and the crowd pops as he turns slowly around to see Professor Keller staring back at him.
Joe Hoffman: Well is the self proclaimed Lord Sektor against the Professor. The winner gets a World Title shot versus Michael Best and the loser....well nothing.
Keller and Sektor are seen standing nose to nose in the ring exchanging some harsh words. Suddenly Sektor swings the steel chair but Keller ducks thru and nails Sektor with a kick to the gut that causes the newly crowned ICON Champion to drop said belt and double over.
Several blows the back of the head send Sektor all the way to the ground and Keller goes into rage mode as he begins to stomp away on the back of the head of Sektor.
The crowd is still buzzing and everyone is on their feet as Keller drags Sektor to the corner and picks the man up and places him on the top turnbuckle and climbs up there with him and begins a ten count of punches...stopping at 9 just to piss off the counting Atlantic City crowd.
Keller smirks out at the crowd but that small moment of not paying attention costs him as Sektor delivers a low blow and follows that up with a hard right hand that sends Keller over the top rope....
Joe Hoffman: It is over!!!! The new ICON Champion John Sektor has.....wait!!
Keller is dangling and his feet did not touch!
A half dazed Sektor sees the opportunity to finish the match and slowly climbs down the turnbuckles and as Keller gets to his feet on the outside of the ropes Sektor delivers a right hand to the man that sends him backwards with only his right hand keeping him on the apron as he holds on tightly to the top rope.
Another right hand sends him closer to the brink...
Joe Hoffman: One more blow...
But instead of a right hand....Sektor chomps down on the right hand of Keller...biting the man!
Benny Newell: Anything to win!!!
Keller screams out in pain and in an act of desperation he grabs Sektors head with his left hand and lifts with all his might.
Both men fall to the arena floor as Keller executes a sloppy suplex to the outside.
The crowd goes crazy as the sickening thud of the two men landing unprotected on the outside is one of those uncomfortable sounds you just cant get used to.
HOW medics rush to their aid as the High Octane Vision screen comes to life and a replay is shown in slow motion as senior HOW referee Matt Boettcher watches along with the crowd to find out who is the winner.
The crowd erupts as its obvious who the winner is, even if its by the closest of margins. Boettcher is seen walking over to Bryan McVay and he gives the ring announcer the winner.
Joe Hoffman: Who is it? Mr. Woodson??
The camera quickly cuts to the announcers to show that the acting of owner is sleeping...on the job.
Benny Newell: There will be a few Tweets from Hell after this one!
The camera cuts quickly back to McVay who has climbed into the center of the ring and announces the winner..
Bryan McVay: And the winner of the Over The Top Rope Evan Ward Memorial challenge and NEWWW Number One Contender for the High Octane Wrestling World Championship…
McVay pauses for a moment, almost as if he’s revelling in the tension encompassing the arena…
Bryan McVay: PROFESSORRRRRRRRRRRRR KEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRR!!!!!!
Keller’s still lying there, next to Sektor, seemingly largely unaware that he’s just won the contest!
Joe Hoffman: Folks, I’m getting word from the truck that we can take another, closer look at the end of that match and determine exactly how it was that Professor Keller just crowned himself the new Number One Contender…
Benny Newell: Good. ‘Cus I’m so fuckin’ drunk I don’t have a clue what fuckin’ happened, Hoffman. So if they show that shit nice and fuckin’ slow, I can figure out that shit!
Joe Hoffman: Exactly, Benny. Even those of us that are both sober and awake aren’t quite sure of what’s going on here!
The HOV fires up again as we go back for a super slow mo, the guy in the truck advancing the sloppy suplex over the ropes, frame by frame - and from the first angle we see it from, it looks like Sektor’s feet hit the floor just a fraction before Keller’s back hit...and our thoughts are just confirmed as we see another angle.
Joe Hoffman: Well, I think Keller got a little lucky there, Benny.
And then, as Keller is mid-celebration after eliminating his good friend, Lord John Sektor, the World Champion himself - Mike Best chooses to make his entrance, walking out onto the ramp. He takes a look at Keller, slowly pulling himself up on the other side of the ring, inch by painful inch, making his way up to the apron. Mike starts slowly golf clapping at the appearance of Keller’s head, and the crowd just eat it up, booing freely!
Joe Hoffman: And there, absolutely typical, cocky behavior from Mike Best. He thinks because he’s well, friends with Scottywood now, that Keller’s just going to roll over!
Benny Newell: What if he does, huh? I mean, if that’s what Lee would have wanted him to do, you know Keller will do it. You know it.
Joe Hoffman: But it just doesn’t seem right, Benny…
Benny Newell: You’re just busy holding a torch for Ground Zero because Mike Best fucking killed it last week, Hoffman. You’re looking at two guys who will do what’s right by Lee! And I’ve mentioned God himself twice now without taking a shot in his memory, so...drink! And DRINK!!!
Joe Hoffman: No. No, it just doesn’--
Hoffman, and the crowd who were busy booing, well, let’s be honest - it could be either of the men, suddenly fall silent. There’s only really one man it could be. So this is something, that, well...you might call...you know.
Predictable.
Keller isn’t a stupid man, he notices the difference. However, after the match he’s just been in, after thumping his way to the canvas the way he did, he’s not exactly with it. He takes a moment or two, turning his head, but he finds himself shoved into the ring! A plate, an oversized, large, steaming plate of nachos that could only have come from the depths of perhaps the world’s greatest taco truck on the apron as he follows Keller into the ring. The Good Professor shakily makes his way to his feet, ready to defend himself...and he swings his arm out wildly...but his assailant ducks underneath it, and with the clasp of the arms around the waist that we’re all so familiar with, he snaps off an absolutely perfect German Suplex!!!
He drags Keller up off the floor, a handful of the Professor’s immaculate hair contained in his hand, before he shoves the Professor into the corner. Reaching down to the apron, he grabs that plate of nachos which is slathered with nacho cheese - so much nacho cheese, in fact, it can’t help but drip onto the canvas...and with a careful, well aimed smash, he ensures that Keller gets some Nacho Heat! He then hurls Keller up onto the top turnbuckle, before he grabs hold of the new Number One Contender and hoists him up into the air, grasping him by his ankles before he spins around and spikes the Good Professor into the canvas with perhaps the most #PREDICTABLE finisher in all of professional wrestling!
There was perhaps a momentary flicker of surprise on the World Champion’s face, but he quickly locks in his serious face, staring down into the ring at Rhys Townsend, who turns, stood over the Good Professor’s prone form, and returns the stare, snarling like just before he walked out here, he shot himself up with the Good Stuff. Or ate some Nachos.
It’s your call.
And just when you think that something else might happen, that someone might figure to grab a microphone of some sort and explain to you, in nice words, with a lot of fucks in, why all that just happened or something like that, the feed cuts out, replaced by the HOW logo you always see after HOW programming, waiting for the next show to start up on Best Studios.
Teaser:
..
Results:
The HOV hums to life as HOW Friday Night Chaos gets underway, live on Best Studios. The HOW logo flashes across the screen, and as the opening video to the show begins to play the camera pans across the arena. Rabid fans have flocked in from New Jersey and New York City alike, and they’re holding up painstakingly handcrafted signs for the cameras.
#HARDCORPORATE
CHRIS DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH
EVAN WENT TO HEAVEN
ATLANTIC CITY BETS ON BLACK
DAT HAIRCUT
#TWEETSFROMHELL
As the camera comes back around, it settles on the Hall of Fame announce team of Joe Hoffman and “Big Buff” Benny Newell, located behind their commentary table as per the usual. Joe is going over last minute production notes, while Benny Newell is actually standing up behind the table. He’s facing the crowd, screaming at a woman behind him to take off her shirt as he chucks dollar bills in her direction.
Joe Hoffman: Hello ladies and gentlemen and WELCOME to the return edition of HOW Friday Night Chaos! Joining me as always is Hall of Famer and independant legend “Big Buff” Benny Newell...
Benny Newell: WHORE! SHOW ME YOUR FUCKING TITS!
Joe Hoffman: ….and I’m Joe Hoffman. Thanks for that, Benny. Tonight it’s the Lethal Lottery, and what better place to roll the dice than The Jesus Complex, in Atlantic City, New Jersey? HOW’s champions will have to be on their guard tonight, as every title is contested and nobody is safe-- literally anyone could walk out a champion here tonight, folks.
Benny Newell: I’VE THROWN LIKE EIGHTY DOLLARS AT YOU! GIMME A NIPPLE! BAH, FUCK YOU!
Benny grumbles, slamming down into his seat at commentary as Joe glares daggers into him.
Joe Hoffman: ….tonight is especially dangerous, Benny, because unlike most Lethal Lottery events, no card has been announced! It’s going to be a night full of surprises, so stayed tuned-- you’re not going to want to miss a single moment of Friday Night Chaos!
As soon as Joe takes a breath, the break in airtime is overtaken by the Jesus Complex sound system and the heavy guitar riff lead-in to “The Best Around” by Joe Esposito. After the events of Monday Night Mayhem, even a hometown crowd is booing for World Champion Michael Lee Best as he makes his way out from behind the curtain. Wearing the HOW World Championship around his waist and what appears to be an actual solid gold suit, Mike also appears to have some kind of a sling over his left arm, leaving his forearm and hand hanging limply above his ribcage.
He has a microphone in his right hand.
Joe Hoffman: Tonight’s show is going to start out with a word from world champion Mike Best, folks, and for once I can’t say that I object. After what happened in Monday night’s main event, I think the world-- myself included-- is eager to hear some kind of an explanation.
Benny Newell: Mike Best and Scottywood. The savior and the Anti-Christ! HA! I swear to God, Hoffman, if you shit all over this I’m going to beat the fuck out of you.
Slowly, the HOW World Champion makes his way down the ramp and toward the stairs. He takes in the roaring boos, hatred louder than he’s heard in quite some time from the HOW faithful. As he ducks under the ropes and climbs into the ring, he paces across the middle of the canvas for a moment, waiting for the crowd to die down.
At a dull roar, he raises the microphone.
Mike Best: Last week, Evan Ward pushed me to the limit.
The crowd cheers voraciously, not for Michael Lee Best but for his admission that Evan Ward gave up a hell of a fight. Mike listens to the cheers, nodding his head and agreement. He jerks at his shoulder a little bit, still looking to be in some pain.
Mike Best: It was his limit, of course, not mine. But a limit was reached nonetheless. And though I have gotten word that Evan Ward at this very moment is lying in a hospital bed with a feeding tube down his throat… that he may never wake up… I regret to inform the High Octane faithful that I too have sustained a serious injury.
The crowd remains relatively docile, as he shakes his head and continues to pace back and forth. He looks legitimately concerned, and after the impact of a brutal main event on Monday night, the fans are curious to see exactly what is wrong with him. He tries to roll his shoulder around, but simply winces in pain.
Mike Best: See, in the final moments of HOW’s Monday Night Mayhem, as the show was going off the air and the dust was settling over most controversial match in recent memory, I reached up and I delivered a high five to the man who assisted me in outsmarting Evan Ward last week. No, not just a high five five-- the HIGHEST of fives. It was practically a high SIX. And unfortunately, as the two most dangerous left hands in the history of professional sports collided, I think I-- well, I’m sorry to say that I tweaked my pinky finger, just so. So Evan Ward, as you lie in the intensive care unit tonight, barely holding on, just know that I feel for you, brother. I’m right there with you.
The boos immediately pick back up to full strength, but the angry wave of hatred splashing against the ring only seems to increase the intensity of Michael Best’s smile. He grins out at the crowd like it’s his fucking birthday, letting it wash over him like a warm spring rain.
Mike Best: Yes, boooooooo. BOOOOOOO, I SAY! Boo, because Evan Ward let everyone down. He showed his true colors last week. He said I’d have to kill him. That I could pull out any maneuver, that I could use any weapon against him, and that he’d stand back up. That he would KEEP… getting… up. Well I had a secret weapon, ladies and gentlemen, and Evan Ward did NOT get back up. He did NOT keep fighting. He gave up on himself… he gave up on the match… and most importantly, Octantites… he gave up on you.
He shakes his head pitifully, staring at the mat as the boos somehow grow even louder. A voracious chant of “YOU SOLD OUT” begins somewhere in the rafters, but quickly grows until most of the New Jersey arena is embroiled in the chant as well. The champion nods his head, acknowledging it, but it doesn’t seem to bother him too much.
Mike Best: I sold out? Yes. Yes I did. Does that really surprise anyone? See that’s… that’s not really the point here tonight. Booooo, Mike Best is an asshole. Booo, Mike Best sold out. And a bear shits in the woods too, so why don’t we just chant about things that are plain and fucking obvious? Come on, folks! POPE-IS-CATHOLIC! CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!
Yes, he actually says the word “clap” five times. He doesn’t have much of a choice-- with a microphone in one hand and a sling on the other, it’s his only real recourse considering the circumstances. Unsurprisingly, the crowd does not join in on the chant. Instead, they just keep booing. You know, because they’re not particularly creative.
Mike Best: So yes, I sold out. I sold out, and now I’m standing here in the middle of an HOW ring in the majestic Jesus Complex in Atlantic City with the HOW World Championship around his waist. And forever it will be noted in the annals of High Octane history that I beat Evan Ward by legitimate count in a Falls Count Anywhere match.
From the belly of the arena, a loud “EVAN WARD!” chant breaks out amongst the HOW faithful. The chant grows and grows, until nearly every man, woman, and child in attendance is cheering for the last remaining bastion of good in High Octane Wrestling. Mike smirks inside the ring, shaking his head.
Suddenly, his smirk fades as “Good Day To Die” by Mishkin begins to blast over the speakers! The fans practically jump the guardrails in excitement, screaming for Evan Ward as his music shuts up one of the most hated men in the company. Inside the ring, Mike Best’s eyes practically bulge out of his fucking head-- he backs up into the ropes, looking for an escape route in advance as through the curtain, out bursts...
...acting HOW owner Scott “Scottywood” Woodson.
Michael Best snickers inside the ring, putting away his “scared face” as he signals for the music to be cut. The crowd slowly realizes what’s going on, and the deafening cheers are quickly replaced with a chorus of boos that would make the Mormon Tabernacle back up their shit and get out. Mike cackles in the ring as Scotty stands at the top of the ramp, dramatically waving to the crowd and enjoying their disappointment.
Mike Best: He’s not here, douchebags! Evan Ward is never going to walk again. He’s gonna be eating meals through a tube for the rest of his short, miserable life. So how about you forget about your precious little hero, and give a warm welcome to a man who deserves your applause? Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. SCOTT…. WOODSON! Give it up, folks!
Scottywood takes a bow.
He’s wearing a well fitting black suit, his now short red hair slicked back as it was at the end of Mayhem four days ago. He’s also holding a microphone, and he smirks as he makes his way down the ramp. Scottywood climbs up the ring steps, where Mike is happy to hold the ropes for him. He ducks into the ring, staring right into the eyes of Michael Lee Best as the two look at eachother for a moment. And then, in the single most heretical act in the history of either man’s career, the two sworn enemies reach out…
….and HUG.
The crowd could not be booing any louder, and they once watched Lee Best spike a baby.
Mike Best: You show some goddamned respect to the acting owner of High Octane Wrestling, you fucking mouth breathers! This man is a Hall of Famer! The greatest HOFC Champion in the history of this company! For God’s SAKE, you idiots, LOOK AT THIS MAN’S HAIR! RESPECT THIS MAN’S HAIRCUT!
Mike looks out at the crowd, who would happily jump into the ring right now and slit his throat, just to show their friends on Facebook. The inside of the arena is, fittingly enough, absolute chaos. Scotty pats Mike on the shoulder, thanking him for the kind words, and they shake hands in the middle of the ring. Mike points at Scottywood, as he continues his diatribe.
Mike Best: This man deserves your adulation. Not some goody two shoes boyscout, prattling on about fair play and sportsmanship. This man standing next to me? He helped me to send a message last Monday. He helped me to let all the boys in the back know that there is no room for heroes in the new High Octane Wrestling. They are not welcome. They are not a part of the new order. And anyone who decides to step forward-- anyone in the back right now, feeling like maybe he wants to walk down that ramp and try to follow in Evan Ward’s footsteps? You will end up just like he did.
He looks more than happy to deliver that revelation to the crowd, who seem more uncomfortable at this point than angry. Fans squirm in their seats as they watch HOW potentially beginning to unravel itself in the ring right in front of them.
Michael stands tall next to his new partner.
Mike Best: I am the sword, and Scott Woodson is the crown. The two men standing in this ring make up one hundred percent of the power players in High Octane Wrestling, and I am HUMBLED in his presence. I am HUMBLED, because this man was intelligent enough to realize how badly HOW needed Mike Best. He was intelligent enough to realize that he needed me under contract, and to do everything I asked of him to make sure that the HOW World Championship stayed within this company. Ladies and gentlemen this man humbles me in his presence, and I’d like to give him an opportunity right now to get this show properly underway. Folks please, one more time, let’s here it for the acting owner of HOW, SCOTTYWOOOOOOD!
Smiling at Mike, Scotty thanks him for the warm introduction as he then turns to the Atlantic City crowd which is continuing to boo the duo.
Scott Woodson: Shut the fu… I mean… please control yourselves. You are currently being graced with the presence of both the six time HOW World Champion AND a Hall of Famer who is soon to be the complete owner of HOW.
Of course, Scotty’s request goes unfilled as the fans continue to boo and Scotty just shakes his head.
Scott Woodson: Well then I’ll just keep this short and sweet for you fuckers. Due to Mike Best’s very serious, not at all exaggerated injury after his grueling World title match against Evan Ward… I have made an executive decision. The World Title match for tonight’s Lethal Lottery… is cancelled.
More boos rain down on the duo as Scotty goes to huck his beer bottle at them… but then realizes it is not there.
Scott Woodson: Really? You’re gonna boo that? You’re gonna boo that, when you people have never in your lives worked as hard as Mike Best worked on the past two HOW shows. He deserves tonight off… a night to recover from a match that left Evan Ward in a medically induced coma.
Joe Hoffman: Oh ya, must have been real tough on Mike Best.
Benny Newell: What did I say Joe? Fucks beaten outta you!
Scott Woodson: NOW… with business taken care of… let’s get this Lottery underway with… well you fuckers will just have to stay tuned and find out.
“Drink, Drank, Drunk” by Hellyeah hits as Scottywood raises Mike’s hand… taking extra care to avoid his injuried pink and raises it up in the air as we cut to a commercial break.
We cut backstage to find Chris Diamond walking down the hallway towards Silent Witness’ locker room. Just as he almost gets to the door a plethora of Security Guards block the doorway and interlock their arms almost like the dudes on 300. One of the guards puts and hand out and starts to talk in a firm tone.
Security Guard: Stop right there Diamond. You’re not allowed in this room or around Silent Witness.
Chris Diamond: What the fuck is this all about? WITNESS!!! Get your pussy-ass out here right now. You need to answer for what you did last week.
The door slowly swings open and out steps the LSD Legend, hiding behind a wall of guards and waving at Diamond, mocking him.
Silent Witness: Hello there, Chris. I’d like to say that it’s a surprise to see you, but as you can see, you are as predictable as a Rhys Townsend hashtag. You don’t get to touch me tonight, unless it’s for that LSD Championship you constantly discredit.
Pissed off even more than before, Diamond tries to push his way passed the guards to get at Witness but is unable to break through.
Silent Witness: Calm down, Christopher; this isn’t the place for fighting, is it? Your fans have paid good money to see their hero get his ass handed to him in the ring, not backstage. But as you’re here, I’ll take the opportunity to tell you a few home truths.
He pauses for a moment, as Diamond paces back and forth; trying to find a way through. Silent Witness smirks at the LSD Champion; watching him behave like a caged animal, trying to find a way out.
Silent Witness: You’re nothing to these fans. They will turn on you the moment the bell rings and you lose your title tonight. They turned on me; just like you did. The difference is, I can handle it; I’ve been in this situation before. You, on the other hand… You can’t handle a football. Make the most of these final few minutes as LSD Champion, Christopher; they’re the final few minutes of relevance in your pathetic career. Those idiots out there live in a corrupt world, where people are tossed aside the moment they have no longer have a use; it’s all they know. You’re next in line to be tossed on the scrap-head, Chris…
He smirks at the LSD Champion again; looking him up and down.
Silent Witness: Good luck…
With that, Silent Witness turns and steps back inside his locker room. As he shuts the door, Diamond charges the guards. They force him back; not allowing the LSD Champion through their barricade. Diamond steps back, calming himself, before pointing towards the door.
Chris Diamond: I hope we meet out there in the ring tonight Witness because these guards won’t be able to protect you then.
With that, Diamond turns and walks away as we cut elsewhere..
“Now what the hell is this I hear about betrayal, Professor?”
An ominous open to Scottywood sitting behind an appropriately adorned desk of an elegant cherry finish, and the first thing that is painfully obvious to everyone is that this is not the Best Alliance locker room, but more of an office-type setup...
...Mr. Woodson's office; complete with engrained nameplate, a cup full of designer pens, ballpoints, mind you, paperweights of various designs, etc.
Mr. Woodson is at the helm, of course, the seat of office and importance, whereas we see Professor Keller and Lord Sektor both in the client seats opposite him. Scotty doesn’t seem the least bit amused, though Sektor does, while The Good Professor is a mask of no emotion.
It was Scotty’s rough-hewn voice that opened the scene, and now his eyes nearly bore a hole through Professor Keller’s skull, still awaiting a response.
Mr. Woodson: Nothing to say, Keller? Nothing? Need I remind you that a betrayal against Lee, of any kind, would be a betrayal against us all? Need I remind you that-
Keller calmly clears his throat to take the floor without standing.
Prof. Keller: You know, Mr. Woodson, as tasteful as that suit from Kohl’s looks, I find it ill-fitting on you, a man of your, um... stature... I mean. You should be measured by a professional tailor, and I know just the-
Scotty cuts him off with an outburst, slamming his fist into his desk hard enough to leave an imprint, and mar the beautiful dark cherry finish.
Mr. Woodson: GODDAMN IT, KELLER!! We are not hear to discuss my suit! We are hear to discuss your insolence! First you have the temerity to name me a pushover last week, then you go so far as to threaten betrayal against Lee Best himself this week?!
Scottywood takes a breath, seething…
Mr. Woodson: One more word about my suit, my haircut, or anything else besides your recent disgusting verbal discourse, and I’ll have your tongue removed! I could already have you publicly flogged, sucked off by a cow, and thrown from the building along with whatever's left of your credibility! I could have you-
Quiet thus far, Lord Sektor finally speaks up, though no longer smiling.
Lord Sektor: -Eeeaaasy there, Scotty… I too would like to hear what our partner-in-atrocities has to say for himself. After all, he accused me of “ass kissing” for merely mourning the man who was much like a father to me, not even two months in his grave now. Harsh words, indeed, but whether you want to accept it or not, Professor, Lee WAS like a father to me. The man took me in, under his wing, so to speak, giving me a second chance at a career… at life… even after I had fought so hard to bring him down, not to mention after I had just disappeared on him, and the company, for no good viable reason.
The Professor merely scoffs into his hand.
Prof. Keller: Speaking of which, what the hell did he ever do for me except to feed off of my successes like some kind of vulture? I went fifteen wins and zero losses, not counting that damned fourth wall, obviously, and without so much as a single title shot, except for the one that he pretty much had to give me to not look petty, and only then because the LSD Championship just so happened to be in the same bracket as me in the LBI tournament. Hmm? What, I ask you?
Somehow Scotty keeps his cool, though his fist remains tightened into a ball, knuckles a pale white from the strain.
Mr. Woodson: Keller... do you have ANY idea how fucking selfish that sounds, even coming from you? How absolutely low?
His temper rises, his tone threatens, harsh and grating now…
Mr. Woodson: DO YOU?!!
A precarious silence dominates the room, Keller’s eyes downcast. Shame, perhaps? Perhaps. Impossible, you say? Perhaps that as well.
But it’s Lord Sektor who speaks up again, now calmly stroking that magnificent mustache of his.
Lord Sektor: Oh yes, I think he does, Scotty. You’ve shamed him mute with his ridiculous complaints of title shots not received, and he wears it like a shawl. However, this deserves some explanation, Professor, and I would hear it.
Scotty growls his confirmation.
Mr. Woodson: NOW.
The Good Professor addresses the floor, his shoes, anything but his partners accusatory eyes.
Prof. Keller: You really want to know?
Lord Sektor: I do… and the truth of it this time.
Prof. Keller: Truly?
Mr. Woodson: Just spit it the fuck out, Keller!
Prof. Keller: Fine.
He spreads his empty hands before him in a gesture of mock defeat before finally looking up directly into Scotty’s cold glare.
Prof. Keller: Very well then… Where were you when Lee fought Kostoff, Scotty? Hmm... Mr. Woodson?
Scotty seems taken aback by the question, and contemplates the trap before answering.
Mr. Woodson: I told you before, as I have told everyone… I was preparing for my match, perhaps the biggest match of my career.
Prof. Keller: So you are saying you were too busy to save our fearless leader, is that it then?
Mr. Woodson: Piss off, Keller! I had my orders! Now where the hell were you, huh?!
But The Good Professor chooses not to hear the question fired back at him, and instead turns to the once calm and detached John Sektor, now growing more uncomfortable in his chair.
Prof. Keller: And you, Lord Sektor? Where were you when this man who was "like a father to you" was being buried in cement? Hmm?
Lord Sektor: I’ll be honest with you, Professor, though I don’t like your tone, or where this is going, I will answer you nonetheless… I was told to stand clear. I was told to not interfere at all, not to show my face at ringside, because Lee said he could handle Kostoff. He told me that the entire world needed to see that he wasn’t afraid of that loser, and that he could get rid of the man once and for all... by himself... no help... no excuses.
Instead of seeming pleased by the responses he wanted, The Professor only sighs, a deep depression settling over him.
Prof. Keller: To answer your question a moment ago, Mr. Woodson… I was told much the same. I obeyed, as did both of you, yet… yet… where is Lee now?
Again, silence only answers the obvious and rhetorical… until, rather surprisingly, it is The Professor who responds with an outburst of his own, unspeakable and unheard of tears nearly stinging his eyes.
Prof. Keller: He abandoned us! He's gone! He left us in our greatest time of need, just when we were getting back on our feet! I begged him, Scotty! I begged him, John! I fucking begged! "Let me take care of Kostoff," I pleaded with Lee, but he promised me, as he promised all of you, that he could take care of the so-called monster of HOW, that he didn’t need our help!
The Professor collapses meekly back into his seat, nearly sobbing, and both Scotty and Sektor seem unexpectedly moved -or shocked- into a quiet stillness. Even Scotty now looks away, visibly uncomfortable with the memory.
Prof. Keller: Well… maybe we needed him... did he ever stop to think of it that way? He had absolutely NOTHING to prove to anyone! He ran the greatest empire the world had ever seen since Alexander The Great, yet he waltzed out there like some kind of hero and got himself killed! All for nothing!
The Professor is forced to wipe an emaculate Versace handkerchief across his face... before then darkening with rage.
Prof. Keller: My blood still boils every time I see Kostoff and his painted up whore for a wife laughing about what they had done to Lee as they walked out of the arena.
Sektor reaches a consoling hand to grasp Keller’s arm, but reconsiders, unsure of what to do really. Instead, he merely speaks in a hushed tone.
Lord Sektor: Calm down man... You don’t think this shit has been bothering all of us?
Scotty clears his throat to speak, his anger subsided.
Mr. Woodson: Of course it has, but we each have a duty to perform, a job to do…
Scotty glances at the gleaming new Rolex on his wrist.
Mr. Woodson: …and right now your up for duty, Professor. Go on, get yourself ready.
The Professor nods, seemingly thankful to have something else to occupy his thoughts, and pulls himself from his chair, even shaking Lord Sektor’s hand as he wishes him luck.
Mr. Woodson: Oh, and Professor… all this nonsense is forgotten from this moment on. I will hear no more of your insolent talk; not in a promo, not in one of your shoots for a segment, not anywhere, are we understood?
A solemn nod greets this uncommon act of clemency.
Prof. Keller: We are understood, Mr. Woodson.
Mr. Woodson: Excellent… now go take back what is rightfully ours.
A wry smile finally creases The Good Professor’s features.
Prof. Keller: I will. Tonight I’m fighting tooth and nail for Lee Best’s honor... you can count on victory.
He exit’s the room rather confidently, but as the door closes with him, Scotty can be heard to mutter under his breath, more to himself than anyone else…
Mr. Woodson: Oh, I assure you... I am.
The shot cuts away
Backstage the camera picks up on woman who is standing at the pop machine. The camera zooms in on her as she is retrieving a can of pop. The woman is dressed rather oddly in a long brown skirt hanging past her knees and a tan blouse with short sleeves. Her heels are low and her hair is swept up in the back in some bun like style.
Blair Moise is seen entering the hall when she sees the woman at the machine. Walking up to her she stands beside her with her microphone in her hand.
Blair: Excuse me, have we met? Are you a new signee or a visitor? Can I be of any assistance?
The woman hardly acknowledged her and was messing with the change still in the machine. The only response she gets is that of a slight nod.
Woman: Can you just go beg the crap out of someone else?
Blair: I was only offering some assistance. I don’t remember seeing you before.
The woman finally stands and turns around facing HOW’s favorite interviewer. There is clearly shock on her face when Blair realizes that she has indeed seen her before. The woman standing before her was none other than the Hellcat Kirsta Lewis. She was clearly sporting stitches around the corner of her mouth, her complexion paler than the last time she was seen and had lost at least ten to fifteen pounds. Blair also noticed some fresh scars on both of her forearms.
Blair: KIRSTA! I hardly recognized you. What’s going on with you?
Kirsta: What do you mean? Nothing’s going on with me. What the hell Blair.
Blair couldn’t help but look her over from her head to her feet as she nods, shaking her head from side to side. She waves her hand around signifying what she was wearing.
Blair: This is not you, why the clothes and what the hell is wrong with your face? Were you in some kind of an accident or something?
Kirsta: Oh you would just love to be the one to break that news wouldn’t you? Sorry to burst your bubble but no.
Blair puts out her hands in front of her and takes a step back.
Blair: Sorry no offense, but you look terrible, I’ve never seen you dress like this. You just don’t seem yourself lately.
Kirsta: Was there some memo sent out that I missed or something about a dress code. I must have missed it if there was. Look all I wanted was a god damned can of coke and I get the third fucking degree. If you don’t mind I’d like to find a quiet place to relax, and enjoy my pop while it’s still cold.
Blair: Have you spoken to either Jace or Tara since what went down in the ring a few weeks ago?
Kirsta: Oh so now your interviewing me? Haven’t got the time for this. No to answer your question, but I didn’t think that I would. Suits me just fine too. They had an opportunity with Lethal Lottery to actually do something in HOW. They did nothing but sit on their asses just like they’ve been doing all along.
Kirsta opened her coke and took a drink of it as she brushed past Blair and didn’t say another word to her. Blair tried getting more out of her but Kirsta shut her down with a wave of her hand as we cut to ringside for the first match of the night!!!
We cut to inside the arena and we see Scottywood standing in the middle of the ring, still in his Kohl’s suit with microphone and Sam Adams Octoberfest in hand. The Atlantic City crowd once again booing the Acting Owner of HOW as he just smirks and takes a drink of his beer.
Scott Woodson: I promised a start to the Lethal Lottery… and we will get to that. But first I would like to bring down to the ring the LSD champion Chris Diamond… and the ICON champion Scott Stevens. So men… would you please join me in my ring?
Joe Hoffman: Are we going to find out the two men who drew the LSD and ICON title shots tonight?
Benny Newell: Yes… Scottywood and Mike Best. You will see a double champion crowned tonight!
Scott Woodson: Come on fuckers… don’t bother with the music shit, I ain’t got all fucking night here.
We see Chris Diamond and Scott Stevens both walk out… each giving the other space as neither have a pleasant relationship with the other. But they make their way down and enter the ring along with Scottywood.
Scott Woodson: Thank you guys. Now as you both saw earlier tonight… I gave Mike Best the night off from defending his HOW World Title. So I wanted to bring you two out here now to extend… not the same courtesy.
Joe Hoffman: Oh come on!
Scott Woodson: See neither of you suffered a severe injury last night. So yes, both the ICON and LSD titles will be on the line tonight…
Joe Hoffman: Of course.
Scott Woodson: In the same match!
Joe Hoffman: What!?!
Scott Woodson: Yes, an over the top elimination Evan Ward Memorial challenge where every two minutes a new man will enter and the winner will be the new number one contender for Mike Best’s HOW World title… and that starts… NOW!
Benny Newell: Fuck yeah!
Scott Woodson: Oh… and whoever eliminate you fuckers… will take your titles. Which luckily for you… won’t be myself. Since as this match is for a World title shot… I will be eliminating myself.
Benny Newell: WHAT?
Joe Hoffman: He’s not pulling a Defiance?
Scotty smirks as he tosses the mic out of the ring, calls for the bell and then steps over the top rope and down to the floor.
Joe Hoffman: Wow, Scottywood really did just eliminate himself as this royal rum….
Benny Newell: Over The Top Rope Evan Ward Memorial Challenge!
Joe Hoffman: Yes… that, starts right now.
Stevens and Diamond turn and look at each other as they start trading blows with each other as Scotty makes his way over to the announce table and takes a seat next to Benny Newell and pulls a cooler of beer out from underneath it.
Joe Hoffman: Not sick of doing commentary Scotty?
Scott Woodson: That is Mister Woodson… and no, not when you sorry ass is still boring the fuck outta people.
Benny Newell: BURN!
Stevens boots Diamond in the gut and plants him with a DDT in the middle of the ring and quickly locks Diamond into a crippler crossface submission move.
Benny Newell: The Venomous Wrath of the Goddess Selket! Tap bitch!
Joe Hoffman: It’s an over the top rope match!
Diamond struggles but he can’t escape the move as he starts to violently tap out to the move… but as Hoffman stated, it’s an over the top rope elimination match. So Stevens just leaves the hold in for another twenty seconds before he just lets go. Diamond rolls off to the corner and starts to pulls himself back up as Stevens clotheslines Diamond over the top rope.
Joe Hoffman: He lands on the apron!
Diamond ducks a punch from Stevens and shoulders him in the gut as he gets back into the ring and the countdown for the third entrants starts.
Crowd: 5…. 4….. 3….. 2….. 1……
“Coming Very Soon” hits and the crowd goes wild and David Black starts to run down towards the ring.
Benny Newell: The personality filled David Black!
Scott Woodson: Hush Benny… it’s coming soon in an update.
Joe Hoffman: Poor David Black…
Black slides into the ring and heads straight for Chris Diamond as Black starts hammering on Diamond as he backs him into the corner and starts just unleashing on the man that took his LSD title from him. Black pulls Diamond out of the corner, kicks Diamond in the gut and nails the codebreaker on him.
Joe Hoffman: Blackout! Can Black reclaim his LSD title?
Diamond stumbles back up to his feet and towards the ropes as he is stumbles into the ropes where he is clotheslined over the top rope and to the floor.
Benny Newell: What a clothesline!
Joe Hoffman: Scott Stevens just stole the LSD title!
Bryan McVay: Chris Diamond is eliminated and your NEW HOW LSD CHAMPION IS SCOTT STEVENS!!
Joe Hoffman: Black hits the Blackout on Diamond and Stevens just steals the LSD out from under him!
Benny Newell: I know! How fucking awesome is that!
Scott Woodson: That is a Team Scottywood member right their folks. A smart fucking man who is now a double champion here in HOW.
Black is furious as he charges at Stevens and the two men start trading punches as the next clock starts to countdown.
Crowd: 5…. 4….. 3….. 2….. 1……
“30/30-150” by Stone Sour hits and the crowd rise in unison, booing loudly as Silent Witness swaggers out onto the stage.
Benny Newell: Witness!
Joe Hoffman: The LSD Legend is number four as he charges down to the ring.
Black nails Stevens with an elbow and quickly with the codebreaker as Stevens hits the mat and rolls out of the ring. Black doesn’t even think as he ducks through the ropes and goes after Stevens, landing more shots as Stevens tries his best to defend himself as he escapes over towards the announce table where we see Scottywood throw a shot of Benny’s jack right in David Black’s eyes and Stevens.
Benny Newell: Hey!
Scott Woodson: Well wasted on that fuck.
Stevens boots Black in the gut and nails the Stunner on him as Stevens grabs a steel chair and slides back into the ring.
Scott Woodson: See!
Benny Newell: Ok Scotty… I suppose that Jack died for a good cause.
Stevens stares down Black with the steel chair as we see Silent Witness run down to the ring as the next entrant and attacks Stevens from behind with a side Russian leg sweep. Witness then heads to the top rope and launches off with a leg drop that connects on Stevens as Black slides back into the ring and spears Witness.
Scott Woodson: A personality filled move by Black!
Joe Hoffman: Leave it alone Scotty… just leave it alone already.
Black pulls Witness up and throws him at the ropes but Witness hangs on as Black charges at him but Witness ducks and Black goes over the top rope, but lands on the apron as he nails Witness with a hard right and hangs him up on the top ropes before re-entering the ring.
Crowd: 5……. 4……….. 3……… 2………. 1…………
“I Get Off” by Halestorm hits as Kirsta Lewis explodes out from backstage and towards the ring.
Kirsta slides into the ring as she goes right after Black as they start trading punches before Kirsta knees Black in the gut and throws him into the ropes and tries to throw him over the top rope but she can’t as Black holds on and Witness quickly charges over and dumps Kirsta over the top rope.
Benny Newell: Don’t take the tits out already!
Joe Hoffman: She hangs on!
Kirsta does hang on as she slips back into the ring as Witness and Black continue to trade punches. Meanwhile Stevens has gotten back up to his feet and grabbed his steel chair as he starts swinging it like mad, leveling all three, Black, Witness and Kirsta with chair shots to the head.
Scott Woodson: There we go. Bring a little hardcore action to this borefest.
Joe Hoffman: Says the man who eliminated himself.
Scott Woodson: Shut your whore mouth Joe Hoffman.
Stevens slams the chair down on the ground as he grabs Kirsta’s and pulls her to his feet… but the crowd starts to countdown again.
Crowd: 5…… 4……. 3……. 2…… 1……….
“Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” by AC/DC as Sektor runs out and down towards the ring as Stevens goes for the chair but doesn’t have time as Sektor slides into the ring and the tow men face off trading punches in the center of the strewn bodies. Sektor lands hard right and opens a slight door for him to kick Stevens in the gut and nail a savate kick to the jaw as Stevens stumbles back to the corner.
Joe Hoffman: A fresh Sektor is taking easy advantage of the battle worn Stevens.
Scott Woodson: No Shit.
Kirsta and Witness are back on their feet as they start trading shots before Witness kicks her in the lower gut before grabbing hold of her and throwing her with a belly to belly suplex over the top rope and hard to the outside floor.
Bryan McVay: Kirsta Lewis has been eliminated!
Scott Woodson: Tears folks… cry your tears as Kirsta Lewis is fucking gone.
Crowd: 5…… 4……. 3……. 2…… 1……….
Joe Hoffman: It’s Professor Keller!
The intellegeciall stimulant of HOW, Keller races down towards the ring, smelling the prize that sits ahead of him as he is seemingly very excited to get start on this match.
Joe Hoffman: And that should be…
But from behind we see Damien Ryan run out from behind Keller and drill him with a hockey stick across the back as he continues down towards the ring, where he goes crazy with the stick nailing everyone once with it before he spots David Black getting back up and cross checks David Black over the top rope and to the floor.
Bryan McVay: David Black has been eliminated
Joe Hoffman: Damien Ryan just laid waste to everyone here… and then eliminated Black!
Benny Newell: Impressive for a Scottywood signing, huh?
Scott Woodson: What is that supposed to mean?
Benny Newell: I ummm
Scott Woodson: It’s cool, I know a lot of my signings suck ass...
As Ryan plays it up to the hard camera we see Silent Witness slowly get to his feet and the HOW Hall of Famer grabs Ryan by the back of the neck and sends the HOW newcomer over the top rope, eliminating the new signing.
Bryan McVay: Damien Ryan has been eliminated
But Ryan isnt happy as he looks up at the LSD Legend and he jumps back up on the apron and begins trading blows with Witness.
Suddenly Scott Stevens comes flying from across the ring and clotheslines Witness in the back of the head sending him and Ryan back to the arena floor.
Bryan McVay: Silent Witness has been eliminated
Joe Hoffman: Well business has picked up!!
Benny Newell: Huh what? This match is still going? I swear its like been over 12 hours long and Its like someone else has control over me now....ugh I need a drink.
Joe Hoffman: Well the new double champion of HOW, Scott Stevens, is on fire. Could he really become a triple champion here in HOW?
WHACK
That answer comes emphatically as Sektor smokes Stevens in the back of the head with a steel chair and lifts the limp body of Stevens up and tosses the ICON and LSD Champion over the top rope where HOW medics rush to him as he falls awkwardly onto the arena floor, completely knocked out.
Bryan McVay: Stevens has been eliminated and the new ICON Champion is JOHN SEKTOR!!!!
The man with the stache is smiling ear to ear and the crowd pops as he turns slowly around to see Professor Keller staring back at him.
Joe Hoffman: Well is the self proclaimed Lord Sektor against the Professor. The winner gets a World Title shot versus Michael Best and the loser....well nothing.
Keller and Sektor are seen standing nose to nose in the ring exchanging some harsh words. Suddenly Sektor swings the steel chair but Keller ducks thru and nails Sektor with a kick to the gut that causes the newly crowned ICON Champion to drop said belt and double over.
Several blows the back of the head send Sektor all the way to the ground and Keller goes into rage mode as he begins to stomp away on the back of the head of Sektor.
The crowd is still buzzing and everyone is on their feet as Keller drags Sektor to the corner and picks the man up and places him on the top turnbuckle and climbs up there with him and begins a ten count of punches...stopping at 9 just to piss off the counting Atlantic City crowd.
Keller smirks out at the crowd but that small moment of not paying attention costs him as Sektor delivers a low blow and follows that up with a hard right hand that sends Keller over the top rope....
Joe Hoffman: It is over!!!! The new ICON Champion John Sektor has.....wait!!
Keller is dangling and his feet did not touch!
A half dazed Sektor sees the opportunity to finish the match and slowly climbs down the turnbuckles and as Keller gets to his feet on the outside of the ropes Sektor delivers a right hand to the man that sends him backwards with only his right hand keeping him on the apron as he holds on tightly to the top rope.
Another right hand sends him closer to the brink...
Joe Hoffman: One more blow...
But instead of a right hand....Sektor chomps down on the right hand of Keller...biting the man!
Benny Newell: Anything to win!!!
Keller screams out in pain and in an act of desperation he grabs Sektors head with his left hand and lifts with all his might.
Both men fall to the arena floor as Keller executes a sloppy suplex to the outside.
The crowd goes crazy as the sickening thud of the two men landing unprotected on the outside is one of those uncomfortable sounds you just cant get used to.
HOW medics rush to their aid as the High Octane Vision screen comes to life and a replay is shown in slow motion as senior HOW referee Matt Boettcher watches along with the crowd to find out who is the winner.
The crowd erupts as its obvious who the winner is, even if its by the closest of margins. Boettcher is seen walking over to Bryan McVay and he gives the ring announcer the winner.
Joe Hoffman: Who is it? Mr. Woodson??
The camera quickly cuts to the announcers to show that the acting of owner is sleeping...on the job.
Benny Newell: There will be a few Tweets from Hell after this one!
The camera cuts quickly back to McVay who has climbed into the center of the ring and announces the winner..
Bryan McVay: And the winner of the Over The Top Rope Evan Ward Memorial challenge and NEWWW Number One Contender for the High Octane Wrestling World Championship…
McVay pauses for a moment, almost as if he’s revelling in the tension encompassing the arena…
Bryan McVay: PROFESSORRRRRRRRRRRRR KEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRR!!!!!!
Keller’s still lying there, next to Sektor, seemingly largely unaware that he’s just won the contest!
Joe Hoffman: Folks, I’m getting word from the truck that we can take another, closer look at the end of that match and determine exactly how it was that Professor Keller just crowned himself the new Number One Contender…
Benny Newell: Good. ‘Cus I’m so fuckin’ drunk I don’t have a clue what fuckin’ happened, Hoffman. So if they show that shit nice and fuckin’ slow, I can figure out that shit!
Joe Hoffman: Exactly, Benny. Even those of us that are both sober and awake aren’t quite sure of what’s going on here!
The HOV fires up again as we go back for a super slow mo, the guy in the truck advancing the sloppy suplex over the ropes, frame by frame - and from the first angle we see it from, it looks like Sektor’s feet hit the floor just a fraction before Keller’s back hit...and our thoughts are just confirmed as we see another angle.
Joe Hoffman: Well, I think Keller got a little lucky there, Benny.
And then, as Keller is mid-celebration after eliminating his good friend, Lord John Sektor, the World Champion himself - Mike Best chooses to make his entrance, walking out onto the ramp. He takes a look at Keller, slowly pulling himself up on the other side of the ring, inch by painful inch, making his way up to the apron. Mike starts slowly golf clapping at the appearance of Keller’s head, and the crowd just eat it up, booing freely!
Joe Hoffman: And there, absolutely typical, cocky behavior from Mike Best. He thinks because he’s well, friends with Scottywood now, that Keller’s just going to roll over!
Benny Newell: What if he does, huh? I mean, if that’s what Lee would have wanted him to do, you know Keller will do it. You know it.
Joe Hoffman: But it just doesn’t seem right, Benny…
Benny Newell: You’re just busy holding a torch for Ground Zero because Mike Best fucking killed it last week, Hoffman. You’re looking at two guys who will do what’s right by Lee! And I’ve mentioned God himself twice now without taking a shot in his memory, so...drink! And DRINK!!!
Joe Hoffman: No. No, it just doesn’--
Hoffman, and the crowd who were busy booing, well, let’s be honest - it could be either of the men, suddenly fall silent. There’s only really one man it could be. So this is something, that, well...you might call...you know.
Predictable.
Keller isn’t a stupid man, he notices the difference. However, after the match he’s just been in, after thumping his way to the canvas the way he did, he’s not exactly with it. He takes a moment or two, turning his head, but he finds himself shoved into the ring! A plate, an oversized, large, steaming plate of nachos that could only have come from the depths of perhaps the world’s greatest taco truck on the apron as he follows Keller into the ring. The Good Professor shakily makes his way to his feet, ready to defend himself...and he swings his arm out wildly...but his assailant ducks underneath it, and with the clasp of the arms around the waist that we’re all so familiar with, he snaps off an absolutely perfect German Suplex!!!
He drags Keller up off the floor, a handful of the Professor’s immaculate hair contained in his hand, before he shoves the Professor into the corner. Reaching down to the apron, he grabs that plate of nachos which is slathered with nacho cheese - so much nacho cheese, in fact, it can’t help but drip onto the canvas...and with a careful, well aimed smash, he ensures that Keller gets some Nacho Heat! He then hurls Keller up onto the top turnbuckle, before he grabs hold of the new Number One Contender and hoists him up into the air, grasping him by his ankles before he spins around and spikes the Good Professor into the canvas with perhaps the most #PREDICTABLE finisher in all of professional wrestling!
There was perhaps a momentary flicker of surprise on the World Champion’s face, but he quickly locks in his serious face, staring down into the ring at Rhys Townsend, who turns, stood over the Good Professor’s prone form, and returns the stare, snarling like just before he walked out here, he shot himself up with the Good Stuff. Or ate some Nachos.
It’s your call.
And just when you think that something else might happen, that someone might figure to grab a microphone of some sort and explain to you, in nice words, with a lot of fucks in, why all that just happened or something like that, the feed cuts out, replaced by the HOW logo you always see after HOW programming, waiting for the next show to start up on Best Studios.