High Octane Wrestling: Friday Night Chaos

Results:
The ever so familiar intro of “Welcome to the Jungle” by Guns and Roses hits as the pyros go off inside the
nearly sold out NGW Arena in New York City.
NO ROOM FOR HEROES
STACHE = ICON
#NACHOHEAT
WARD OF THE STATE
HELL AND KELLER
DAMIEN RYAN HAS A SIGN TONIGHT
NGW IS DEAD GODDAMNIT
SUITTYWOOD
SILENT WITNESS RAPED MY DOG
Joe Hoffman: Welcome everyone to another action packed edition of Friday… or Sunday Night
Chaos!
Benny Newell: Fucking lawyers, getting a damn injunction on the whole fucking show. Just to
try and stop Scottywood from becoming Owner. It’s bullshit Joe!
Joe Hoffman: It did suck, but it seems that Scottywood has gotten around it and tonight we are
once again in New York City as we return to a normal show tonight after what was a very
interesting show last week. One that saw two new champions and a number one contender to the
HOW World title crowned.
Benny Newell: No one cares about those pawns Joe. They only care about YOUR World champion
Mike Best and the man who is soon to be the full Owner of HOW… Scottywood.
Joe Hoffman: Well I beg to differ Benny… many people care how during the Over The Top Rope…
Benny Newell: The EVAN WARD MEMORIAL… Over The Top Rope Challenge. Come on Joe, pull it
together!
Joe Hoffman: Whatever Benny… my point is they care how Scott Stevens eliminated Chris
Diamond to win the LSD title, briefly being both the ICON and LSD champions before John Sektor
eliminated him to become the new ICON champion. Plus they care how Professor Keller won the
whole thing and will get a title shot against Mike Best in the future. They also care that
tonight we will see matches based off the aftermath of that match. John Sektor versus Professor
Keller and Chris Diamond gets a rematch against Scott Stevens for the LSD title.
Benny Newell: Fuck that, tonight Scottywood signs papers to officially make him the Owner of
HOW!
Joe Hoffman: Ya, we could be calling ourselves NGW by the start of next week.
Benny Newell: And would that really be a bad thing Joe?
Joe Hoffman: Well I guess we can at least both agree there is some exciting stuff planned for
Chaos tonight… so let’s get things underway with our opening match between David Black and
Damien Ryan!
Benny Newell: And let the David Black drinking game commence too!
Joe Hoffman: The David Black drinking game?
Benny Newell: Yes, every time you want to kill yourself watching David Black… you take a
drink! It makes him bearable.
Joe Hoffman: I think his exceptional wrestling talent makes him “bearable” to watch Benny.
Benny Newell: Well this my good sir is where we have a disagreement.
Joe Hoffman: What?
Benny Newell: I think you’re fucking wrong!
--Cause really I'm a psycho....-"The Happy Song" by Poets Of The Fall hits and as David Black walks out from the backstage area dressed
in his "wrestling attire", black jeans and a black sleeveless shirt with the words "I told you" printed on the
front and the words "I'm a psycho" printed on the back, the crowd gives a mixed response to HOW's selfproclaimed psycho.
Bryan McVay: The following match is scheduled for one fall… First making his way to the ring
from Los Angeles, California and weighing in at 235 pounds… David Black!!!
Black marches down to the ring at a brisk pace, sometimes stopping randomly to bust out a
strange dance move or two, other times singing along with the lyrics to the entrance theme. As
he nears the ring he starts running and slides into the ring where he busts out a few more random,
wacky looking dance moves until his music dies down, and sometimes he even continues after
that.
Benny Newell: What the fuck is this? Dirty Sanchez Dancing?
Joe Hoffman: The movie is called Dirty Dancing.
Benny Newell: No, the porn I bought was definitely Dirty Sanchez Dancing.
Joe Hoffman: Oh God…
The fade in of "Leave It Alone" by Tremonti hits as the crowd gears up. The heavy metal hits and
the entrance video of Damien Ryan displayed on the HOV. Strobes and lighting light up the
entranceway as Ryan walks out, with his always determined march down the ramp.
Bryan McVay: And his opponent, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada and weighing in at 235 pounds…
Damien Ryan!!!!
He smirks at the responses from the crowd and rolls into the ring. He hops onto the second
turnbuckle and takes a look at his audience in the south corner of the arena. Then he
immediately does the same on the north side. Ryan, bounces himself off the ropes a few times
preparing for his match
Joe Hoffman: Well Damien Ryan was pretty impressive in the… battle royal thing last week. He
eliminated David Black… which is certainly no short order.
Benny Newell: I like him Joe, a great signing by Scottywood.
Joel Hortega checks both men over and calls for the bell as the two men lock right up as David
Black gets the quick advantage with a knee to the gut and hits a early DDT. Damien pops up and
right into a couple of quick rights from Black who then connects with the vertical
suplex. Damien stumbles back up and right into a sidewalk slam from Black as he goes for the
cover.
Uno…….
Dos…………..
Joe Hoffman: Kickout by Ryan as he weathers the assault froM Black.
Benny Newell: He’s just getting warmed up.
Black pulls Ryan up and again goes for a kick in the gut but Damien catches in and connects
with an enziguri kick to the back of Black’s head. Black is staggered as Damien nails the
dropkick and knocks Black down. Damien then immediately goes for the Boston crab
Benny Newell: Tap out time!
Joe Hoffman: Black now in trouble here.
Ryan wrenches back on the hold as Black tries to fight towards the bottom rope. He inches
closer and closer and reaches out… but Damien pulls Black back towards the center of the
ring. Black looks to be ready to tap out… but he pushes up and grabs Damien’s head and rolls
him up into a small package.
Uno…….
Dos……….
Tres……….
Joe Hoffman: Damien just barely gets the shoulder up!
Benny Newell: What the fuck was that shit!?
Joe Hoffman: A pin cover!
The two men pop back up and Ryan nails a roundhouse kick. Ryan quickly jumps up on the top
rope and goes for his frogsault.
Benny Newell: The Publicity Stunt!
Joe Hoffman: Knees up by Black!
Ryan rolls away as Black pops up and stalks Ryan til he gets up and walks right into a
Blackout.
Joe Hoffman: The Blackout!
Benny Newell: No! Cheater!
Joe Hoffman: Pin attempt by Black.
Uno……….
Dos……………….
Tres……………………..
Joe Hoffman: It’s over!
DING DING DING
Bryan McVay: The winner of tyhis match in 6:22… David Black!!!
Benny Newell: Horseshit!
Joe Hoffman: And Black getting revenge against Ryan for last week… how does this affect the
drinking game?
Benny Newell: Fuck you! Cut to commercial!
Joe Hoffman: You don’t have the authority to...
Friday Night Chaos comes back from commercial to Silent Witness' locker room. The Hall of Famer is
stood in front of a blank wall in a pretty nondescript locker room. He isn't even sure people get their own
locker rooms any more but hey, he's gotta use those Hall of Fame privileges some time, right?
Silent Witness: Kirsta Lewis; the latest example of society shunning someone in need. Here's a woman
that has been called a slut, a hooker, a skank... Yet, she was entertaining; so she got a free pass. She would
flash those puppies and flutter her eyelids and a certain demographic would cheer her on, every step of the
way.
He points at the camera angrily.
Silent Witness: You forgave her. You decided that, even though you are appalled by the girls lining up on
street corners, Kirsta was fair game. She was entertaining and famous. That makes everything okay, right?
He shakes his head, before continuing.
Silent Witness: But now that she's covered herself up, you don't care about her. Now, I understand that it's
partly because now you're listening to what she's actually got to say and it's boring as fuck, but I also know
that you no longer have a use for her, so you've tossed her aside. Now, her transgressions over the years
make her a disgrace. Anybody can see that she's troubled, but do you fans step up and encourage her? No...
You turn away, looking for the next scantily clad woman to engage your sexual deficiencies. None of you
stood a fucking chance with her... and she was a fucking slut!
He smirks; mocking the HOW fans.
Silent Witness: You shunned Kirsta like you shunned me. The difference is, I'm not weak like Kirsta and I
will battle through, against all odds and prove that I am your High Octane Hero. Not the taco-wielding
Rhys Townsend, not the backward Texan; Scott Stevens – and certainly not Chris fucking Diamond!
His expression grew more angry as he mentioned Diamond's name.
Silent Witness: Last week, he tried to attack me in my locker room. You all saw it. Is that the sign of a
hero? No, of course it isn't. He isn't a hero; he's pathetic. But to top it all off, he loses my LSD Title to a
fucking retard!
Silent Witness shakes his hand; disappointed with the Lady Killer.
Silent Witness: Chris, let me tell you something...
He leans forward, mocking that he's telling a secret.
Silent Witness: … I know you lost on purpose. I know you wanted someone – anyone – to take that title
for you. There were two reasons for that. Number one; you knew you didn't have the fucking minerals to
carry that belt and earn the respect it deserves. Number two; you were hoping against all hope that I might
leave you alone; I might move on to whichever unlucky soul took the title from you.
The LSD Legend shakes his head again; this time with a cocky smile.
Silent Witness: … Well, it's not going to work that way, Chris. Oh, no; I'm not done with you yet. You
see, aside from the fact that Stevens distanced himself from my challenge to him for his ICON title a
couple of weeks back on Twitter - meaning he'll definitely back away from any LSD Championship match
with the LSD Legend – I've still got issues with you, Christopher.
He points at the camera once more.
Silent Witness: You parade around here as though you're the voice of the people or some bullshit, but in
reality, you're even more of an asshole than anyone on the roster! At least Mike, Townsend, Sektor, et al,
have got the balls to admit that they're assholes. But your faux smiles and phoney hand-slapping with the
fans makes you a fucking parody! You're me from eighteen months ago; only I fucking meant it back then.
He pauses; staring at the camera for a moment.
Silent Witness: … It's fine, I don't mind. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right? But the problem
is, Chris, that you represent the people... and the people are fucking ruthless. They will drop you like Evan
Ward did, just as soon as they're through with you.
Silent Witness chuckled for a moment, before continuing.
Silent Witness: … But I won't stop until you're brought to your knees; along with this society that you
champion on a daily basis. Rumble At The Rock, Diamond...
Silent Witness smirks.
Silent Witness: … I'll see you there, champ.
With that, the scene fades to black and Chaos cuts elsewhere.
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.
Brian McVay: Introducing first, from Fort Lauderdale, Florida, weighing in at 130 lbs…. she is the other
half of Girl Power, KIRSTAAAAAA LEWWWWWWISSSSSSSS!
"I Get Off" by Halestorm hits. The music continues as Kirsta Lewis makes her way out with a lead pipe in
hand.
Benny Newell: THE FUCK IS THIS?!?!?!?
Joe Hoffman: The changes keep on coming for the Hell Cat of HOW.
As Kirsta stands on the stage she has new attire on. As the camera zooms in it shows that her new garb
consists of long black spandex pants and a matching short sleeved top.
Benny Newell: God dammit!!!! These fucking whores are hiding their tits! What the fuck has happened to
HOW Hoffman?!?!?
Joe Hoffman: Maybe they are trying to classy themselves up Benny.
Benny Newell: Classy themselves up?!? HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! The only classes these whores know
about is how to give a proper blowjob and how to take it in the ass properly.
As the camera is still focused on Kirsta’s face, it shows that her mouth has been crudely sewn shut and as it
pans out there is more cut marks on her arms.
Joe Hoffman: Looks like Kirsta has resulted to self-mutilation to deal with her depression issues.
Benny Newell: Oh please. She should just drink like me and besides it’s not like Tara was all that special to
begin with.
Kirsta wraps her hand tightly around the pipe and slowly raises it above her head. As Kirsta makes her way
down to the ring, she circles the squared circle and taps on the steel stairs with her pipe to show that it is
real and to psyche herself up. She gets into the ring where Matt Boettcher promptly grabs the lead pipe
from her and hands it to a ring attendant.
As Kirsta Lewis continues to get loose the arena lights begin to dim and a spotlight shines down onto the
entrance ramp.
Bryan McVay: And her opponent, weighing in at 234 lbs, hailing from Los Angeles, California...SILENT
WIIIIIIIIITNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSS!!!!!!
“30/30-150” by Stone Sour slowly stirs over the sound system and the crowd rises in unison, booing loudly
as Silent Witness swaggers out onto the stage.
Benny Newell: You fucking show this man some respect you pieces of shit!
Joe Hoffman: Calm down Benny.
Benny Newell: I will not calm down, this man is a Hall of Famer, a former world champion and the GOD
DAMN LEGEND OF THE LSD CHAMPIONSHIP!!!! So I won’t calm down for shit!
Joe Hoffman: Yeah well he also turned his back on his former stablemates and his fans.
Benny Newell: Hoffman you’re five seconds away from getting punched. Witness didn’t turn his back on
the fans and those idiots from Ground Zero, they turned their backs on him!
Standing atop the ramp, the High Octane Hero slowly pans the crowd as an "LSD Legend" graphic appears
on the HOV screen behind him, smirking as the riled up fans continue to boo him; some even resorting to
throwing things at the former HOW World Champion.
Joe Hoffman: The former role-model to millions of children is getting booed out of the building.
Benny Newell: That’s what happens Hoffhole. Witness tried to play the nice guy. He tried to play by the
rules and these idiots took a giant dump on him. What you expect him to do?
Silent Witness slowly raises his right arm, taunting the crowd, before swaggering down the ramp towards
the ring. Reaching the bottom of the ramp, he goes over to a ten year old fan that has a, “Get Better Evan
Ward” sign, and looks at it. He snatches the sign from the youngster and begins to tear it up. The young
boy is crying uncontrollably as his father flips him off and Witness just smirks.
Joe Hoffman: The nerve of that man! Despicable!!!
Benny Newell: What you fucking expect Hoffman? No one gave two shits when Witness had to forfeit his
title and was in the hospital.
Silent Witness walks to the steps, yelling abuse at the hostile crowd as he does so. Climbing the steps, he
looks around once more with a disdainful smirk, before stepping between the ropes to prepare for his
match.
Matt Boettcher goes over and checks both wrestlers before calling for the bell.
DING! DING!
Witness and Kirsta Lewis slowly circle each other before locking up in the center of the ring.
Joe Hoffman: These two are no strangers to one another as it was Witness who eliminated Kirsta from the
Lethal Lottery Battle Royal despite controversial circumstances.
Benny Newell: Controversial? What you smoking Hoffman?
Joe Hoffman: Well Scott Stevens swinging a steel chair around like a mad man didn’t help her chances
Benny.
Benny Newell: Well Kirsta is used to taking shots to the face so she should have been used to the blow.
Silent Witness locks Kirsta in a side headlock and slings her down. After doing this he spins around the
ring taunting her and soaking in the boos of the crowd. Kirsta not pleased with being shown up slaps the
mat and gets up. They lock horns once again and this time Kirsta is the one who does the slinging around
and does some posing of her own to the dismay of Silent Witness.
Joe Hoffman: Witness tasting a bit of his own medicine there….What is this?
Witness gets up and goes over to referee Matt Boettcher and displays that he was grabbed by the hair. The
ref goes over and asks and Kirsta shakes her head no and he warns her as Witness smirks in the
background.
Benny Newell: That’s right Boettcher! Give her the riot act.
Joe Hoffman: Oh please Benny, she didn’t grab his hair.
Benny Newell: You saying Witness would lie Hoffhole! He’s the Hero of High Octane Wrestling for
Christ sake!
Joe Hoffman: Yeah I would on the basis that the man has a bur haircut and you possibly can’t grab it.
Benny Newell: Fuck you and your bias. DRINK!
The two lock up once more and Witness goes back to the side headlock this time wrenching it in.
Silent Witness: I got her now.
Witness yells to the crowd but his claim is short lived as HOW’s Hell Cat punches the LSD Legend in the
gut.
Joe Hoffman: Kirsta fighting her way out.
Witness stops her onslaught with a vicious knee to her stomach that sends all the air out of her lungs.
Witness begins to put the boots to Kirsta and stomping after every boot to admire his handiwork.
Joe Hoffman: If Witness doesn’t keep on the attack Kirsta will take advantage.
Benny Newell: The man is admiring his beat down Hoffhole, Jesus Christ!
Witness picks up Kirsta by the hair and as he brings her to her feet Kirsta hits a surprise enzuigiri. Cover.
Joe Hoffman: Witness got caught there!
Benny Newell: KICK OUT! KICK OUT!
1.
2.
Witness powers out.
Joe Hoffman: Witness was almost caught sleeping.
Benny Newell: I need a…DRINK!
Kirsta stays on the attack with a standing leg drop. She follows that up with multiple elbow drops.
Joe Hoffman: Kirsta focusing on the arm with her attacks.
Kirsta locks in a arm bar and Boettcher slides in to ask if Witness gives up. He shakes his head no and
Kirsta rams her knee into his arm before apply the hold once again.
Joe Hoffman: Kirsta has that arm bar in deep.
Witness crawls over and locks his feet onto the bottom rope and yells for the ref to get he off but she won’t
listen.
Benny Newell: Get her off ref! Do your fucking job!
The ref begins to count.
1.
2.
3.
4.
Kirsta releases the hold before the count of five.
Matt Boettcher is yelling at her to obey his commands and Kirsta ignores him. She grabs Witness by the
head and the LSD Legend hits a haymaker into the bread basket and drills her with a DDT.
Joe Hoffman: What impact! Kirsta’s body is limp from the force.
Benny Newell: That’s nothing new, usually she stays limp because she always takes it.
Witness gives himself a moment to catch his breath before getting back to his feet. He begins to stomp on
the prone body of Kirsta Lewis and after circling her body, he picks her up. He whips her into the ropes and
nails an over head belly-to-belly suplex on the rebound. He saunters over to her and hooks a leg.
1.
2.
Kickout.
Witness yells at Boettcher that that was three and Boettcher says two.
Witness picks up the Hell Cat once more and slings her into the ropes. Witness is winding up his arm
getting ready to nail a lariat but he misses and as he turns around is caught by a Kirsta Lewis spinning
wheel kick. Kirsta sits Witness up and viciously lays into his torso with multiple kicks.
Joe Hoffman: The echoing of those kicks is just sickening.
Witness’ chest begins to turn red from the kicks. Kirsta backs up a little and drills him in the head with a
super kick. She falls into the cover.
Joe Hoffman: Hell’s Bitch Kick! It’s over.
1.
2.
3.
NO!!!!!!!!
Witness at the last second places a foot on the bottom rope.
Benny Newell: I think I almost had a heart attack.
Joe Hoffman: Ah shucks, and to think I would be out here all by my lonesome.
Benny Newell: That a crack Hoffhole?
Joe Hoffman: Nope because I have no personality remember? You remind me of that weekly.
Benny Newell: Damn right! I’m the captain of this team don’t forget it!
Kirsta shouts out in anger and picks up Witness. Witness fights out with rights and lefts to the gut but
Kirsta retaliates with a spinning sweep that knocks the former world champion to the canvas. Kirsta runs
the ropes and nails a running kick to the face of Witness as he started to sit up. The Hell Cat begins to pick
him up only for the former world champion to hit a high knee that rocks her back into the corner. Witness
shakes the cobwebs out and refocuses his attention on Kirsta. He grabs her by the waist and hit’s a spinning
belly-to-belly slam. Witness goes for the cover.
1.
Witness places his feet onto the ropes.
2.
The referee stops the count and yells at Witness about his feet on the ropes.
Silent Witness: I didn’t put my feet on the ropes, they put themselves onto my feet!
Witness yells to the ref.
Benny Newell: That’s right Witness, tell that ref.
Joe Hoffman: Oh brother.
Witness picks up Kirsta and places her head between his legs.
Benny Newell: Kirsta in her natural position right there.
Joe Hoffman: BENNY!!!!
Benny Newell: What?
Joe Hoffman: This is a family show.
Benny Newell: And like no family has ever seen a porno before Hoffhole! DRINK!
Witness emulates that he is smoking a cigar before going for a power bomb.
Joe Hoffman: Witness looking to end it here.
Silent Witness lifts Kirsta and she attempts to fight it off with punches. The punches begin to have there
effect as Witness starts to stumble backwards. Kirsta seeing an opening goes for a hurricanrana but the
attempt is blocked midway as Witness powers her back up.
Benny Newell: Finish her!
Kirsta pokes Witness in the eye and nails the hurricanrana but Witness rolls through and grabs a hold of her
legs. He quickly crosses them and turns her over.
Joe Hoffman: Silent Witness has the Silencer locked in.
Benny Newell: Why does he call it The Silencer when it sounds like Kirsta is taking it in the ass when she
screams out like that?
Joe Hoffman: And back to the match.
Benny Newell: Answer the damn question.
Kirsta screams out in pain but she shows that she has the ovarian fortitude as she makes it to the ropes.
Witness pissed, arches back on it while she clings to the ropes.
Joe Hoffman: Get in there ref.
Benny Newell: Soften the bitch up.
The ref attempts to break it but to no avail. He begins his count.
1.
2.
3.
4.
Witness lets go of the hold.
He tells the ref he has a five count with his fingers.
He begins to pick Kirsta up and she grabs him.
Joe Hoffman: Small package out of nowhere!
1.
2.
Kickout.
Witness kicks out and turns Kirsta inside out with a lariat that came from the state of Texas.
Witness signals that it is over and brings the Hell Cat to her feet violently has he locks her into a guillotine
choke. The ref checks the submission but Witness picks her up and holds her in the arm.
Joe Hoffman: Looks like the Breaking Immersion is on tap.
Benny Newell: Speaking of on tap, I forgot to check in my beer into Untappd. Dammit!
Kirsta begins to wiggle free of Witness’ grip and falls behind him.
Joe Hoffman: Kirsta has her foot cocked.
Benny Newell: Don’t turn around!
As Witness turns around Kirsta launches another Hell’s Bitch Kick his way, only this time the LSD Legend
sidesteps the kick.
Joe Hoffman: Kirsta missed.
Benny Newell: Superior athletes do that to their competition Hoffman.
As Kirsta misses the kick, Witness goes for the Silent Night, but she throws him off. Kirsta charges at the
former world champion but he jumps onto the top turnbuckle as Kirsta’s shoulder meets the steel ring post.
Joe Hoffman: Witness is perched, he is looking to end it here.
Still doubled over, Kirsta moves from the turnbuckle holding her shoulder. Witness sees his chance and
takes it.
Joe Hoffman: LSD Legend Drop! That’s got to be it.
Witness turns her over and hooks the inside leg.
Matt Boettcher begins to count.
1.
2.
3.
Joe Hoffman: Hard fought victory here tonight for Silent Witness.
Benny Newell: Hard fought? He had it in the bag the whole time. Now for my celebratory…DRINK!
Witness demands the ref to raise his hand again before sliding out of the ring and telling the fans how great
he really is.
Joe Hoffman: And with that we cut to the backstage area where something is going on.
We cut to the backstage area and we see Blair Moise walking.
Blair Moise: Have you seen the LSD champion?
Technician: Last time I saw him was near his locker room.
Blair Moise: Thanks.
Blair makes her way over to the locker room area and comes to a door that reads, “Scott Stevens, LSD
Champion.” Blair knocks on the door twice.
Scott Stevens: Come in.
Blair hears Stevens’ voice from the other side of the door and enters the room. She sees the champion
lacing up his boots as he is preparing against the man he beat for the championship last week.
Blair Moise: Stevens, I just wanted to get your thoughts from your match last week and this week where
you will be defending your newly won championship against Christopher Diamond, the former champion.
Stevens finishes lacing up one boot and looks up at the blonde bombshell.
Scott Stevens: It was a mixed bag. Am I disappointed I couldn’t become the number one contender and
battle against the World Chumpion Mike Best. However, some good did come out of it as I became a
double champion during the match which is a hard feat to accomplish in HOW with a roster that is stacked
full of talent.
Stevens finishes as he goes to tying his other boot.
Blair Moise: Yes, you did become a double champion, but that accomplishment was short lived as John
Sektor eliminated you from the match and became the new ICON champion.
Scott Stevens: Sektor didn’t eliminate me, a fucking chair to the back of the head did. If anyone should be
the ICON champion it’s that metal folding chair because it caused me to receive eighteen staples in my
head and this awesome new haircut by the doctors. I hope Sektor enjoys my championship while he has it
because the last time he took it from me I was the man that beat him when no one else could.
Stevens says with a smirk as he finishes tying his boot and stands.
Blair Moise: Wow. I didn’t know your cut was that bad.
Scott Stevens: Yeah, it’s pretty bad.
Blair Moise: It almost looks Scottywood’s…..
And in that moment Stevens places his hand over Blair’s mouth to silence her.
Scott Stevens: If I was Scottywood, I would take a few months off because I got a bump on the noggin by
the man that I am going to go against tonight. When Scotty and people associated with him….
Stevens looks towards the camera.
Scott Stevens: Yeah, I’m talking to you chump. As I was saying, Scottywood and Associates are pussies.
They get a simple bump on the head, or they jam their finger whacking it to their attempted rape of Carmen
Jennings on home video and they claim they can’t compete. Unlike those bitches, I’m here, injured or not!
I’ll these guys who feign or milk their injury, like a Silent Witness, a Mike Best, and a Scottywood, they all
claim to be this and that when it comes to this title….
Stevens points to the LSD championship draped across a chair.
Scott Stevens: Each one of those individuals cannot hold a candle to me. To keep me out of this place you
have to kill me and most in this company have tried and they all have failed. I have big plans for this
championship.
Blair Moise: What plans are those?
Scott Stevens: I plan on taking this title back to it’s roots. Defending it in all forms of matches besides the
standard singles match.
Blair Moise: Why would you do that?
Scott Stevens: Simple. I want people to know that if they come after my championship, they will
experience pain, lots and lots of pain.
A smile forms across Stevens’ face.
Blair Moise: Speaking of defending the championship, what are your thoughts on your match tonight?
Scott Stevens: My thoughts are they Scottywood is a piece of shit for not booking mine and Diamond’s
match as the co-main event.
Blair Moise: Well, Rhys Townsend’s return match is a big deal.
Scott Stevens: Fuck Rhys Townsend. He’s basically in a glorified squash match, what’s so great about
that? I mean the guy has been in exile doing god knows what and he’s facing a guy who makes the Brawler
from Brooklyn look like hall of fame material. This is not only a slap in the face to me, but also to Chris
Diamond. Diamond is a guy that has shown that he is an impact player. Scotty can’t put his jealousy aside
and put us where we rightfully belong because he can’t stand me or Diamond. But that’s ok Blair because
Diamond and I are going to steal the show and that will be the ultimate fuck you to the so-called boss
around here.
Blair Moise: You heard it from Scott Stevens that he and Diamond are going to steal the show tonight,
back to….
Stevens cuts Blair off.
Scott Stevens: Oh, almost forgot.
Stevens reaches inside his duffle bag and pulls out a referee shirt.
Blair Moise: Why do you have that shirt?
Scott Stevens: You never know when you might need a backup plan incase a certain guest referee reinjures his pinky. A main event of this importance tonight cannot have any miscues. Plus, I want to say hi
to my buddy Sektor as well.
Back to ringside.
We cut back from commercial to the back parking lot of the NGW Arena and see a black Jeep Wrangler
come flying in with the engine screaming as there’s a the jerk of the vehicle as the driver slams on the
breaks making two tire tread marks as they screech. The driver’s door flings open as we find Chris
Diamond practically running inside already dressed in his ring attire. The crowd cheers as they see the
Lady Killer. Just as Diamond gets in the wrestler’s area, HOW backstage interviewer Brian Bare with
camera man at his side stops the former LSD Champ.
Brian Bare: Hey Chris! You made it!
Chris Diamond: Out of my way Bare I have a Title to go win.
Brian Bare: Of course you do Chris, but with your latest promo that was released the other day you said
you weren’t going to be here.
Diamond stops to answer the question and also to catch his breath from running.
Chris Diamond: Do you really think I was serious in that promo about letting Stevens win without me
showing up? Fuck Brian, you know me better than that. It was just a ruse for Stevens to relax and think he
didn’t have to wrestle tonight. One of the oldest tricks in the books man. Besides, I wouldn’t pass up a
chance at becoming a two time LSD Champ. Something not many other HOW wrestlers have done.
Brian Bare: Speaking of other wrestlers were you able to catch Silent Witness talking about you earlier in
the show?
Chris’ face has better color in it now from taking a few much needed breaths before his face became flush
with red.
Chris Diamond: Yeah, I heard it Brian. Regardless of tonight’s outcome Witness has issued a challenge to
me for Rumble at the Rock.
The Crowd cheers and starts to chant ‘Witness Sucks!’
Chris Diamond: The only thing I have to say to that is this... (Chris takes a pause and looks straight at the
camera with such intensity you can feel it coming through your TV.) Prison. Yard. Match.
Chris pushes the camera out of the way and takes off down the hallway towards the ring for his match as
the crowd is going crazy at the challenge put at Silent Witness’ feet.
We cut to somewhere else backstage where word is being let out that a commotion at Townsend’s Taco
Truck is beginning to unravel.
The camera flicks to life in Acting Owner Woodson’s office, as the man who should be crowned as HOW’s
controlling force sits behind his desk, doing possibly the most un-hardcore thing a man can do - paperwork.
There’s a sigh from the man shorn of his trademark red dreadlocks as he flips a sheet of paper over and
reaches for the bottle of Sam Adams Octoberfest he, naturally, has sat on his desk, but the sound - and you
know you hate it when you hear it in the cinema - of a man crunching down on a nacho is heard. Woodson
looks up from his paperwork, and his beer, as Mr. Nacho Heat himself steps into the frame, already attired
to go and wrestle his return match against Steve Solex later tonight, and, perhaps a little predictably,
munching away on a plate of nachos. Woodson looks up with a scowl, as Townsend finishes his mouthful
of nachos.
Rhys Townsend: I heard you wanted to see me, Scotty…
Scott Woodson: Yeah. You’re fucking right I wanted to see you, Townsend. There’s some fucking things
you need to know.
Rhys Townsend: Right. Is this the point where you tell me you’re banning nachos from HOW
programming, or is that a conversation we’re going to have in the near future…?
Woodson, still seated, clearly grits his teeth, composing himself.
Scott Woodson: Don’t tempt me. No, you’re not here to be told I’m banning nachos. It’s as fucking simple
as this, Townsend. I don’t know where that fucking contract of yours came from...I don’t know if it’s
something I gave you when I was blacked out drunk, or if you got it from somewhere else...because believe
me...I wouldn’t have fucking signed you if it was left entirely up to me.
There’s hate - or at the least, a very strong dislike blazing in Woodson’s eyes as he looks up at Townsend,
who looks completely unpertubed by it. In fact, he has plucked a nacho from his tray, dripping with nacho
cheese, and seems to be entirely more interested in that than what his boss has to say to him. Woodson
resumes his monologue, breaking for a sip of his beer and a sigh.
Scott Woodson: And as tempting as it may be to fire your ass, Townsend, that’s something I’m not gonna
do. No - I have you under a contract, so I might as well use you. And I bet, knowing you and the size of
your fucking ego, you probably figure you’re gonna waltz back in here and find yourself in a World
Championship match with my good friend, Mike Best...so I’m here to tell you that ain’t gonna fucking
happen. You, to me, are just like another fucking new signing. Like Damien Ryan, or Cole Eastwood.
You’re gonna start from the fucking bottom, Townsend...because that’s what you deserve. That’s what
you’ve fucking earned. You get that?
Townsend, to be perfectly honest, seems more engrossed in his study of his nacho than what Woodson has
just said to him...though his study comes to a short, sharp end as he pops the nacho in his mouth and
crunches away. Once his mouthful has finished, his face goes from a study in nonchalance to the intense,
Hulk-like look it comes to possess, on occasion.
Rhys Townsend: You want me to start from the bottom, Woodson? You want me to rip through wrestler
after wrestler who we both fucking know isn’t on my level? Fine. I don’t care who the fuck you put in front
of me...I don’t care if I have to wrestle Steve Solex this week, Damien Ryan next week and then whoever
the fuck else you can dredge up next week. I couldn’t give a shit. See, no doubt you and everyone else
figures I’m here to fuck about and sell some nachos, right? Sell a couple trays of these, and everything’s all
good...right?
He dumps the tray of nachos atop Woodson’s paperwork, much to Scotty’s disgust, before he continues
talking.
Rhys Townsend: But let’s be fucking honest - if you thought that would be the case when you were
dealing with me...then, well, you don’t fucking know me, do you? You don’t understand what makes me
tick. I am a professional fucking wrestler, Woodson. I am exactly what God himself wanted out of a
professional wrestler...which means more than anything, above all else...I’m a fucking competitor. So let
me start at the bottom. I don’t give a shit.
But here’s what I’ll say about it to you, Woodson. And make sure you’re listening real good, make sure
you remember what I’m about to say because I want you to run to your newest butt buddy, Mike Best, and
tell him each and every word of this…
I will be World Champion by ICONIC. I don’t care what barriers you decide to put in front of me, I don’t
care what wrestlers you throw at me, what matches you put me in - I will smash them all.
And then, again, almost like nothing, his face goes back to the studied look of nonchalance, as he picks his
nachos back up.
Rhys Townsend: And now, if you’ll excuse me, boss...I have a match to go and finish preparing for.
Joe Hoffman: Alright folks, welcome back to ringside! We are all set here to bring you the LSD
Championship match, as Chris Diamond gets his rematch against the man who won it in the Lethal Lottery
last week, Scott Stevens.
Benny Newell: Anything that’s an excuse to watch Chris Diamond get destroyed by one of his betters is
good by me, Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: Did...did you just compliment Stevens?
Benny Newell: Fuck no, Hoffman...I haven’t gone fucking soft! Anyone could beat Diamond, including
you! He got lucky against Black, and now we’re going to go back to watching him lose every week.
Joe Hoffman: That’s a little harsh, Benny. The LSD Championship could be a stepping stone for him something that pushes him onto greater heights in this business!
Benny Newell: I fucking doubt it, Hoffman. Diamond isn’t just tainted with sucking, he is the very fucking
definition of it!
Joe Hoffman: Right…
Benny Newell: You know I’m fucking right! You know it!
Joe Hoffman: That’s a debatable point, Benny…
Hoffman doesn’t get a chance to reply as a loud camera flash goes off and the arena goes blinding bright
white and fades to dark as Justin Timberlake's Sexyback starts to play. Chris Diamond emerges from
behind on top of the stage by the ramp
Bryan McVay: Introducing first, he is the challenger, hailing from Pure, Michigan and weighing in at two
hundred thirty two pounds….CHRISTOPHERRRRRRRRRRRR
DIAMONDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!
He points to some random hot bitch just as "come here girl" is said in the song and she starts to grind on
Diamond. He takes off his vest and hands it to her and heads down to the ring.
Benny Newell: See...any douche who wears plastic vests and visors fucking sucks. My point was made
before, and it still stands now….DRINK!
Joe Hoffman: I disagree with you, Benny, but I realise that you are going to be pretty implacable on this
subject…
Benny Newell: I don’t know what that fucking word means, but I’m going to take it as you agreeing with
me, Hoffhole.
The lights in the arena go pitch black, as red lasers and spotlights light up the area. The video screen lights
up and flashes across the screen, "Nothing survives my sting!" The crowd starts booing, but it’s not just a
normal level of booing. It’s a booing of pure hatred. Chris Benoit level booing as an electric guitar wails
throughout the PA system and the words of Dave Mustaine's voice echoes throughout the arena, "As I
climb onto your back, I will promise not to sting. I will, tell you what you want to hear and not mean
anything. Then I, treat you like a dog, as I shoot my venom in. You pretend you didn't know, that I am The
Scorpion, whoa!"
Bryan McVay: And his opponent, he is the reigning, defending High Octane Wrestling LSD Champion,
hailing from Houston, Texas and weighing in at two hundred fifty six pounds, he is The Scorpion
SCOTTTTTTTTTTTTT STEEEEEEEEEEEVENSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!
The jeering intensifies as the instrumental after the chorus hits the speakers, drawing out the reigning High
Octane Wrestling LSD champion. Walking down the aisle, he talks trash the entire way while raising a fist
at a few of the more vocal bashers. As he finally gets to the ring, he climbs the nearest turnbuckle and
stares down at the crowd, an icy glare and the throat slash gesture his only actions as he drops to the mat.
Benny Newell: And just so we’re clear, Hoffman, I hate this asshole too. But he should beat Diamond,
because, you know...even me, at the end of the show, when I’m fucking blackout drunk, could probably
beat Chris Diamond.
Joe Hoffman: Honestly, Benny, I think you’re underestimating the former LSD Champion there...he has a
bright future ahead of him.
Benny Newell: Oh, sure, a bright future - why, what’s he gonna start to fucking do, wear neon? ‘Cus he
ain’t gonna do much in that fucking ring, that’s for sure.
Joe Hoffman: Benny, we will have to agree to disagree on the issue of Christopher Diamond.
Benny Newell: No, Hoffman, no we fucking won’t. Because if you don’t agree, I will fucking beat you like
I beat my hookers until you do!
Joe Hoffman: Honestly, Benny, I thought better of you than that.
Benny Newell: Then you thought fucking wrong, didn’t you? DRINK!
Hortega finishes showing the belt off to the crowd, and as soon as he’s passed it out of the ring, he calls for
the bell! There’s no moment of silence, no interregnum between the two men as they fly out of their
respective corners and immediately start trading blows in the center of the ring! It looks, for a moment, like
Stevens’ superior size and experience advantage is going to put him on top, but out of nowhere, Diamond
nails him with a huge Mongolian chop, staggering the bigger man! There’s a brief moment of thought,
before Diamond flies off the ropes and through the air with a clothesline, dropping Stevens to the canvas!
Joe Hoffman: Still insistant upon underestimating Diamond, Benny?
Benny Newell: Hoffman, it’s the opening minutes of the match. You watch...Stevens will come back,
dominate Diamond, and win. Because Diamond fucking sucks.
Joe Hoffman: Again, Benny, I must register my disagreement with your last statement.
Benny Newell: Register away, Hoffhole...I don’t give a fuck because I know I’m right!
Diamond looks to keep up the offense on Stevens, nailing The Scorpion with a dropkick once he gets back
to his feet! Stevens goes down, but pops back up fairly quickly, as Diamond takes a moment, before he
starts chopping the chest of the bigger guy! Stevens fires back with right hand after right hand, but
Diamond’s dogged determination eventually allows him to back Stevens into the turnbuckle, where his
onslaught of chops intensifies! Eventually, he chops Stevens so hard that The Scorpion falls into a seated
position, and Diamond starts to loop around the ring, pointing at the dazed Stevens and gesturing furiously
with his crotch…
Benny Newell: See...what sort of fucking homosexual fucking faggot does this? I mean...c’mon. Even you
must see that, Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: I’ll say this, Benny - I’ve never quite understood the offensive potential of...well, smashing
your crotch repeatedly into another man’s face.
Benny Newell: And it’s pretty fucking gay. C’mon...say it.
Joe Hoffman: And it may well be pretty...well, homosexual.
Benny Newell: That’ll do, pig, that’ll do.
Joe Hoffman: Did...did you just reference a film about a pig?
Benny Newell: I have absolutely no idea what you’re on about, Hoffman. DRINK!
Diamond does indeed charge across the ring and starts...well, we’ll go with starts to deliver a Bronco
Buster. Whatever Diamond’s level of personal hygiene, this quickly wakes up The Scorpion, who grabs
hold of Diamond as he rises back to his feet, hoisting him into the air before he snaps him down with the
most vicious powerbomb this side of Chris Kostoff’s signature No Remorse!
Joe Hoffman: Oh man, that’s GOT to have hurt!
Benny Newell: Fucking duh, Hoffhole. Most wrestling moves sorta, y’know...fucking hurt. Idiot.
Joe Hoffman: Yes, but that one looked like it may have hurt more than your regular powerbomb…
Benny Newell: Again, fucking DUH. Diamond was stupid enough to rub his balls on Stevens’ chin...did
you think Stevens was just going to tickle him, asshole?
Joe Hoffman: No, but I was just attempting to do my job, Benny…
Benny Newell: Yeah, well, you fucking suck at it, Hoffman. Fucking suck.
Stevens immediately heads to the side of the ring, and starts spitting, before he calls for some water. He
quickly dowses his head with the bottle, before he starts to take a long, cleansing gulp of the
stuff...unfortunately for him, this is more than enough time for Diamond to sneak up behind him and
quickly package him up! Hortega drops for the count…
Uno….
Dos…..
Tr...NO!!!
Stevens kicks out of the Small Package before Hortega’s hand drops for a third time!
Joe Hoffman: Diamond came really close to stealing the victory right there!
Benny Newell: Which is the only way he’s going to get the victory, Hoffman. By theft.
Joe Hoffman: A win is a win, Benny…
Benny Newell: Which is something you have never said when someone I like cheats their way to victory…
Joe Hoffman: Because that was cheating. Diamond there...he was just being opportunistic.
Benny Newell: You’re a fucking nitpicking asshole, Hoffman.
Both men retain their feet at more or less the same time, and while Diamond immediately fires off a right
hand, Stevens seems to take a moment, almost like he’s consulting a huge moveslist, before he fires off a
headbutt! There’s no chance for Diamond to reply as the larger man fires off another headbutt, and another
and another, backing Diamond into the ropes! He then whips him off, as he advances into the middle of the
ring, delivering a huge Double S Spinebuster! He doesn’t leave Diamond laying for long, grabbing both his
legs as he turns him over and sits down right into a Boston Crab!
Joe Hoffman: A devastating array of moves from Stevens there to firmly turn the momentum in his
direction! Can Diamond make it to the ropes?
Benny Newell: Nope. He’s gonna tap to a Boston Crab like he’s some little flaky bitch, Hoffman.
Joe Hoffman: I doubt that, Benny. If there’s one thing you cannot dispute about Diamond, it’s that he has
fight.
Benny Newell: Pfft….like anyone gives a shit about “fight”, Hoffman.
Diamond screams out as Stevens torques the hold as much as he can...but DIamond pushes himself up and
crawls a little bit closer to the ropes. The two men fight like this for a moment or two, Stevens torquing and
Diamond crawling, until eventually, Diamond makes it to the ropes, and Hortega calls for the break.
Stevens releases on the count of four, and backs off, allowing Diamond to get back up. When he does,
Diamond charges at Stevens, looking for another clothesline - something, anything to turn the tide in his
favor, but Stevens ducks underneath it! He doesn’t snap on a waistlock and fire off a German Suplex,
instead waiting for Diamond to turn...and as soon as he does….well, there’s only one outcome - Toxic
Sting!
Stevens drops into a simplistic cover….
Uno….
Dos….
Tres!!!!
Bryan McVay: And your winner, in 12 minutes, 34 seconds and STILL HOW LSD
Champion…..SCOTTTTTTTTTT STEEEEEEEEEEEEEVENSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!
Benny Newell: I told you. I fucking told you. Diamond isn’t on Stevens’ level, so of course he was going
to fucking lose.
Joe Hoffman: You were, indeed, right, Benny. But Diamond showed a tremendous amount of fight and
heart here tonight, just like he does every time he steps into this ring. Anyway, folks, do not go anywhere we have to take a commercial break, but our next match? The in ring return of Rhys Townsend. We’ll be
right back!
The camera cuts backstage into the NGW Arena, but not into a locker room. Locker
rooms are for the traveling grunts and lackeys that make up 99.9% of the roster-- the man
whose smiling face appears before the camera is certainly HOW’s most deserving one
percenter. Michael Lee Best sits in a-- okay, it’s a locker room. But it’s like a fancy one.
With wooden hangers and shelves instead of actual metal lockers. So it’s fancy and shit.
The HOW World Championship is slung over his shoulder, as he sits in a plushy looking
office chair. A large metal bucket sits off to the side, where his recently injured pinky
finger is resting on top of the entire container full of ice cubes. The sling from last week
has been replaced with an actual hard brace, the kind that someone would have for an
actual, serious injury. He grins up at the camera.
Mike Best: Hey there, Octanites! Boy, I sure am bummed out that I’m once again unable
to compete this week. As you can see, my hand just isn’t quite there yet-- I’d say I’m
feeling about eighty seven percent tonight-- and I just couldn’t live with myself if I
walked down that ramp and gave you any less than one hundred percent.
He drops his face into a completely manufactured look of disappointment, while the live
crowd in the arena boos at the HOV. It clearly must resonate backstage, because the
HOW World Champion stifles a snicker before staring back down at the floor, regaining
his composure.
After a moment, he looks back up.
Mike Best: But the show must go on, right? I’m icing up in preparation of tonight’s main
event, where yours truly will put on the stripes and keep order in a match pitting friend
against friend, partner against partner… Prof against Stache. And let me assure you, loyal
Octanites, that my upcoming HOW World Title contest against Professor Keller will in
no way, shape, or form affect my abilities to be a fair and balanced referee in tonight’s
match.
More boos from the New York City crowd, but he hasn’t even really gotten to the point
yet. Mike sinks his hand further into the ice bucket, peering into the camera and letting
his lips curl into a smirk.
Mike Best: Likewise, the odds are good that I’ve completely forgotten about ICONIC,
right? About John Sektor returning to HOW, and doing his damndest as a referee to make
sure that I lost the HOW World Championship to Max Kael? Yeah, I’ve probably just let
that slip my mind, too. No way will THAT affect my performance in tonight’s main
event.
The crowd is still booing, but it’s just a rote reaction at this point. They want to see
someone fuck this guy up, injury to his precious little pinky notwithstanding.
Mike Best: Maybe we’ll all just play nice. Maybe we’ll have ourselves a nice little
wrestling match, and everything will go all according to plan. Maybe. But let me give a
little warning to the boys from ProfStache, straight from the lips of the champion-- and
believe me, kids, that this word is gospel. When I said there was no room for heroes in
High Octane Wrestling… I fucking meant it. Evan Ward is learning his lesson right now
via IV drip, and if one of you two has aims on standing up to the big bad HOW World
Champion tonight, I will not hesitate to…. well, they say the man who has the gold
makes the rules…
He chuckles, almost mockingly ala Professor Keller. Suddenly he stops deadpan, staring
into the camera.
Mike Best: And tonight? I make the rules.
Motherfucking fade out, because cameras don’t turn off when Mike Best looks into them.
They just slowly bow down and turn black.
We cut to somewhere in the backstage area where the camera is zoomed in on the face of David Black. As
David stares into the camera there is a very distinct, very disturbing twinkle in his eyes--excitement mixed
with twisted obsession. As the camera slowly zooms out to reveal David's upper body we see that he is still
dressed in his "wrestling gear", the black sleeveless shirt with the words "I told you" printed on the front in
white letters coming into view.
David Black: Evan Ward--may we never see him set foot in a High Octane Wrestling ring again--loses the
World Championship, he immediately gets his rematch. Chris Diamond loses the LSD Championship, he
immediately gets his rematch. David Black loses the LSD Championship, he immediately gets a great big,
stinking pile of nothing! Now I ask you...does that seem right to you?
Black pauses for a moment to allow everyone to ponder the question.
David Black: And yet people expect me to believe them when they tell me that there is not huge
conspiracy against me. I may be a psycho, but I'm not an idiot. It's painfully obvious that there is one set of
rules for me and another set of rules for everyone else. Fortunately for me, I have decided that it's long
overdue for me to take matters into my own hands. Things are going to change--in fact, they already have!
Last week on Chaos I was embarrassed and humiliated by Damien fucking Ryan, a fucking HOW virgin,
and everybody thought it was high-larious, didn't they? Once again the joke was on the "twitterless" David
Black, hardy har fucking har! But now I ask you....who's laughing now?
David slowly lowers his head and looks down at the floor below him as a twisted smile slowly creeps
across his lips. The camera follows the direction of his gaze and, as it does, the body of a man starts to
come into view. He is lying face-down on the floor next to David's feet, and he seems to be unconscious.
David chuckles a bit to himself as he uses his right foot to slowly turn the unconscious man onto his back to
reveal that the man is, in fact, none other than HOW newcomer, Damien Ryan. David kneels down next to
the unconscious Damien Ryan and waves to him briefly.
David Black: Hello there!
He starts out, his voice loud and overly enthusiastic.
David Black: My name is David Black and, if you haven't figured it out already, I'll be your own personal
stalker, tormentor and torturer here in HOW--welcome!
Suddenly--literally in an instant--the enthusiasm drains from David's face and is replaced by a dark and
dangerous looking intensity as David leans in close to Ryan, his mouth now only a few inches from
Damien's ear.
David Black: You think you're gonna come in here and steal my spot? Huh? You think that you're gonna
make a name for yourself at MY expense? You made the biggest mistake of your life last week, Damien
fucking Ryan, and now...there will be hell to pay. You have been sentenced to an extended stay in the
deepest, darkest prisons of hell, and guess what? I'm the fucking dungeon master, baby!
A demented laugh escapes from David's lips.
David Black: I'm gonna run you out of HOW, Ryan. You hear me?!? This will happen week in and week
out, no exceptions, no mercy...until you're gone. The only question is; are you going to be smart and leave
willingly on your own two feet? Or are you gonna be dumb enough to think that you can actually escape
the abyss in one piece? Honestly, looking at you now, I'm thinking you're gonna be dumb.You have that
look about you.
Another strange, eerie laugh escapes from David's lips.
David Black: You're not welcome here! You hear me?!? You're not taking anything from me! Nobody is
taking anything from me ever again! And you will...leave...HOW, one way...
His voice is just barely a whisper now.
David Black: Or another.
David gets back to his feet and stares down at Damien Ryan, almost as if he is considering taking a few
more shots at his unconscious victim. David then turns around and walks off and the camera gets a shot of
the back of David's shirt which has the words "I'm a psycho" printed on it in white letters. As David
disappears down the hallway the camera pans down and gets one last shot of the seemingly unconscious
Damien Ryan before cutting away.
Back from commercial break and we see Rhys Townsend in the middle of the ring pinning Steve Solex…
Uno……
Dos………..
Tres…………..
Bryan McVay: The winner if this match in 7 seconds…. Rhys Townsend!
Joe Hoffman: Well… welcome back… um I guess that match is over.
Benny Newell: Fuck Townsend!
Townsend rolls outta the ring and throws the ring apron up and pulls out a plate of nachos.
Benny Newell: He can’t bring those in here!
Townsend slides into the ring with his nachos and tosses them on the ground. Solex stumbles up and
Townsend nails #NACHOHEAT onto the nachos.
Joe Hoffman: Hashtag Nachoheat!
Benny Newell: Hashtag Predictable.
Joe Hoffman: No… it’s not that move!
Benny Newell: What? No, that shit was fucking predicatble!
Joe Hoffman: Oh… he has a move called that too.
Benny Newell: Of course he does!
Security rushes out and Townsend slides out of the ring and escapes through the crowd as Joel Hortega
starts scooping up the nacho from the ring.
Benny Newell: Looks like Hortega can feed his family this week.
Joe Hoffman: Oh come on!
Benny Newell: What? Mexicans love tacos.
Joe Hoffman: Please cut away…
The shot opens in ceremonious fashion, from the ground up, in some now famous backstage locker room
of the NGW Arena, because this is obviously someone very special…
Black dress shoes by Giuseppe Zanotti, flawless dark suit by Huge Boss, solid gold cufflinks by Bill Blass,
immaculate tie by Dolce & Gabbana, pressed white shirt by Ralph Lauren… Ah yes, you knew who this
scene belonged to even before you began to booo so loud it vibrated the dome of the arena.
The smartest man in the world confidently adjusts his incredibly in-style nonprescript glasses by Oliver
Peoples as he shoots the camera a smug grin, bristling with arrogance.
Prof. Keller: You know something… I didn’t miss this for a second. Nope. None of it. I didn’t miss the
horde of nameless slobs, with their nasty faces stuffed into their popcorn buckets, or their greasy
outstretched hands trying to get a feel of my new suit, because they obviously can’t afford cashmere. I
didn’t miss the higher-ups preying on my incredible in-ring dexterity like a bunch of vultures, and I
certainly did not miss them trying to destroy every alliance I have ever made within these halls for a few
more points on the ratings board.
A dignified scoff.
Prof. Keller: Which I guess brings me to the part of my interview where I am supposed to pick apart the
only true friend and comrade that I have ever really had in this business, right? Well, bugger all that. It
just so happens that it occurs to me how absolutely counter-productive that would be to my own ends. John
and I BOTH have an Icon Championship to uphold, and I just so happen to get a World title shot as well,
so all this squabbling for scraps, otherwise known as product placement, or even your ratings boost, would
be beneath us.
He makes a gesture of straightening his already perfectly straight tie.
Prof. Keller: Make no mistake, however, I will win this confrontation, and you ungrateful inarticulate
inbreds will soon get a performance far exceeding the rust-covered mason jar full of quarters that you most
surely paid for tonight’s ticket, but you will not get it at the cost of the dissolution of the two most
prominent athletes on this roster, no sir, not for any ticket, not for any price. The Quintessential Handlebar
ProfStache Connection is an algorithm of awesome, and to reduce any numerical properties of the equation
would be most disastrous, which, to be sure, John himself understands full well. I must win, it's in the final
solution, and I don't mean that hideous lie about what the Germans did to the Jews either.
The smug grin is suddenly gone, well, the grin, not really the smug.
Prof. Keller: Besides, this match is already worthy of a Pay Per View, even with Mike Best dragging it
down in his predictable ref shirt. The guy is just so… droll. For example, I’m quite sure he will provoke
me, and I’ll probably even shove him, in which case he will be sure to remind me that he is the ref, so and
so forth, and I smell a Jesus Complex on the wind, or two, but anyway… despite the obvious ill repute he
casts over our main event, you bunch of clowns in the audience, and anyone standing within ten feet of
Chris Diamond, still have the two most proficient mat technicians to ever face one another inside of a High
Octane Wrestling ring to look forward to tonight, it just won’t be at at the expense of our unshakable
allegiance.
He lowers his glasses for a ‘serious-face’ emote
Prof. Keller: Because no matter how I plan on leaving that ring with my hand raised in victory, the other
hand will be extended in friendship, ready to help my brother, to lift my other half of the ProfStache off the
mat, and back on his feet, because, in the end, this match is going to be a victory for us both, John, an
absolutely brilliant triumph that only a genius like myself could possibly have hoped to engineer, and, in
turn, it will be a resounding defeat for all those mobile-home-hobos in the stands, who plotted and hoped to
come between our unflagging dominance for a few shillings and a couple billion pesos, so they could sit
there with their popcorn and their… their… ugh… nachos. That’s right, you heard me. I’m almost positive
we still get reception in Alabama, so listen up! Indeed, I want all you dumpster-divers out there to KNOW
that no matter what happens in that ring tonight, when the mat's soaked with blood and the final bell has
sounded… it’s all of YOU disgusting instigators out there who are the REAL losers. Not me, not John,
well, maybe Mike is a bad example here, but definitely YOU people. Remember that.
The Good Professor shifts his awesome black-framed glasses back up to the bridge of his nose, as if ready
for business, before then exiting stage left with a confident stride, and, I tell you what; Affleck, acting
lessons, and all the Marvel comics at his disposal, still couldn’t have pulled off that exit any better.
The shot cuts away.
Joe Hoffman: It’s that time again, folks, so let’s get right down to it-- tonight’s Friday
Night Chaos main event features new ICON Champion John Sektor taking on his tag
team partner and the man who just last week defeated him to become number one
contender to the HOW Championship, Professor Keller. And if that wasn’t enough to
stoke the fires, the official for this match is none other than the very champion that Keller
will be challenging, Michael Lee Best!
Benny Newell: Jesus Christ, Joe, I might actually be interested in this fuckin’ thing!
Lee’s appointed General Manager running the show? His son is the champion? His two
most loyal Best Alliance members facing off in the main event? I’ll bet you Lee Best is
looking prouldy up at us all tonight, frowning away.
Joe Hoffman: Frowning, Benny…?
Benny Newell: Well he IS in hell, Joe. Not a lot of smiling going on down there, I’d bet.
“The Best Around” by Joe Esposito begins to blast over the sound system of the NGW
Arena, bringing down a hailstorm of boos for HOW World Champion Mike Best as he
makes his way through the curtain. He’s wearing his referee’s shirt, the HOW
Championship over his good arm while the injured hand is still in a hard brace on the left.
He waves politely to the crowd, soaking in the boos as he makes his way down to the
ring.
Mike climbs up the steps, taking his place in the center of the ring.
No sooner has he taken his place when “Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap)” by AC/DC
begin to play, heralding the arrival of the man who puts the “Stache” in ProfStache, John
Sektor. The most infamous facial hair in all of professional sports appears from behind
the curtain, pulling in a mixed reaction from the New York City crowd.
Joe Hoffman: A surprising number of cheers for John Sektor tonight, considering all.
Benny Newell: That moustache is the greatest thing in the history of things, dipshit. Of
course he is. Fuck David Black, I want John motherfucking Sektor’s motherfucking
moustache to get a Twitter account. FOLLOWED, FUCKERS.
John Sektor makes his way down the ramp, jogging ujp the ring steps and wiping his feet
on the apron before ducking into the ring. He takes his corner, and Michael Best
immediately goes about patting him down for foreign objects. John instinctively protects
his moustache, remembering the HOW World Champion’s attempt to rip it off of his face
at March To Glory.
While Sektor is having his personal space invaded, the instrumental chorus of Pink
Floyd’s “Eclipse” replaces his music as the HOV comes to life once more. Professor
Keller emerges to an equally mixed reaction to that of his tag team partner, as he stands at
the top of the ramp with a look of disdain on his face. He makes his way pretentiously
toward the ring, stopping just shy of the end of the ramp to adjust his tie. And then, in one
fluid motion, he rips it off along with his breakaway suit, handing his glasses off to the
timekeeper and rolling up into the ring, popping up in his proper corner.
Mike diverts his attention to Keller, paying extra attention to Keller’s infected hand as the
number one contender winces. He grits his teeth, abstaining from violencing the referee
before the match has even begun, and soon the HOW World Champion rings the bell to
start the match.
DING DING DING
John Sektor and Professor Keller come out of their respective corners, giving one another
a nod of respect before the beginning of the match. Sektor even extends his hand for a
pre-match shake, but Keller shakes his head in disgust as he realizes that Sektor is
offering to shake-- and likely crush-- his infected right hand. He puts down the offer,
instead leading with a hard left hand to start it off with a bang!
John Sektor is reeled by the opening punch, but battles back with one of his own! The tag
team partners take turns bringing the punishment, but Keller finally dodges Sektor and
springs up with a Highly Athletic Standing Dropkick (™) that gets a pop from the crowd.
Sektor hits the mat and rolls toward the ropes, getting back to his feet, only to be met
with a charging clothesline from the Professor into the corner!
Joe Hoffman: Certainly an aggressive match up here so far, with both members of
ProfStache perhaps trying to show their dominance early on.
Benny Newell: I have a boner the size of Darkwing’s head right now. The fact that this
show is free is a fucking tragedy.
Keller brings Sektor down to the mat with a fast hip toss out of the corner, following up
with a knee drop, but before he can get another in Michael Best gets in his way, pointing
at the ropes. Keller yells at Sektor isn’t touching them, and Mike shrugs his shoulders,
“apologizing” for the mix-up. He steps out of the way, but Sektor is already on his feet,
and he launches Professor Keller over his head with a belly to belly suplex out of
nowhere! Keller crashes to the mat and Sektor makes a quick pin attempt.
ONE!
TW-- NO!
Keller quickly powers out, rolling out of the pin and grabbing the ropes for safety. Sektor
climbs back up, laying into Keller with a series of stomps, but this time Michael Lee Best
doesn’t seem to notice that the ropes are actually in play. The crowd boos loudly,
especially as Sektor begins to stop on the infected hand of Professor Keller! The number
one contender cries out in pain, clutching his hand and rolling out of the ring to get free
from the torturous blows.
Joe Hoffman: Well, all hopes of a fair matchup have been thrown out the window.
Benny Newell: All is fair in love and war, Joe. All. Is. Fair.
Joe Hoffman: What on earth are you talking about, Benny?
Benny Newell: Fuck if I know, I was just making conversation.
Keller grabs at Sektor’s leg from outside of the ring, tripping him up and forcing him to
fall into the ropes. The Professor jumps up onto the apron, guillotining John Sektor and
sending him stumbling backward toward the center of the ring!
Keller slides back in under the ropes, popping to his feet and charging forward at his
staggered opponent. He grabs Sektor’s head, slamming him down onto the mat with a
vicious bulldog that he immediately transitions into a crossface, dead in the center of the
ring! Sektor has nowhere to go!
The crowd pops, buzzing for a submission as Sektor strains in the middle of the ring.
Michael Lee Best drops down to check for a tap out, but instead of sliding toward the
hold, he keeps going and rolls out of the ring. Keller doesn’t even notice as he clamps
down on the hold, with Sektor screaming beneath him. The strain is getting to be too
much, and John Sektor looks as though he’s reaching the tipping point. Keller yells for
Mike to check the submission!
Joe Hoffman: Where in the hell is-- oh, God.
Benny Newell: AH! HAHAHA!
Michael Lee Best climbs back into the ring, though he no longer quite resembles himself.
He’s wearing Professor Keller’s glasses and tie, and the breakaway suit that he wore
down to the ring has been hastily thrown back on and reassembled. He looks like a
possessed version of the Professor, and as Keller sees him he releases the hold, jumping
to his feet.
He points at the costume, arguing with Michael Lee Best as the referee feigns ignorance
to the complaints. Keller yells about the submission, but Michael just shrugs and pulls at
the tie, drawing the ire of the crowd in the NGW Arena. Suddenly, a smirk comes over
Mike’s face as Keller is rolled up from behind, into a pin from John Sektor! He makes the
HISTORIC COUNT!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
[IN THIS SPACE, NO ONE CAN HEAR KELLER SCREAM]
NO!
As Mike’s hand comes down for two, he uses his “injured” hand and jumps up
screaming, holding his hand and warbling like he’s been shot. Sektor’s eyes grow wide,
and he stands up in a huff, seeing Mike running around the ring like he’s on fire. The
booing in the arena couldn’t be louder as John Sektor and Professor Keller both now have
had enough, getting to their feet and cornering the HOW World Champion!
Mike begins to beg off, as both members of ProfStache back him into the corner. He
explains that it was all just a little joke, but Keller and Sektor are not laughing. He
threatens a disqualification, but neither of them seems to care. Keller pushes in front of
Sektor to take the first swing, but then Sektor pushes in front of Keller. The posturing
builds as the crowd is cheering like fucking crazy, waiting to see which of them will first
get their hands on the hated HOW World Champion.
Joe Hoffman: Ohhhhhhhhh here we go! Dinner’s over, and it looks like Michael Best is
about to get his just desserts!
Benny Newell: The fuck? What the fuck did you just say? That was fucking atrocious,
Hoffhole. And this is fucking terrible! What happened? WHY CAN’T YOU ALL JUST
GET ALONG?!
Sektor grabs Michael Best by the front of the breakaway suit, gritting his teeth….
THE CENTRIFUGAL ELBOW!
Professor Keller takes the opportunity from behind, yelling for Sektor’s attention. Sektor
spins around, allowing Keller to nail his tag team partner with cartwheel into a back
elbow and putting him down in the middle of the ring! The crowd is in a confused frenzy
as he drops to make the cover, and Michael Best looks more confused than anybody. He
shrugs, dropping to make the count!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING DING DING
Professor Stanley Keller stands to his feet, raising his arm in the air as he stares daggers
into Michael Lee Best across the way from him. He doesn’t look happy about what he’s
had to do.
Bryan McVay: Here is your winner, in 8:22…. PROFESSOOORRRRRR
KELLLLLLERRRR! There is a heated staredown in the middle of the ring, but before
things get too intense, HOW acting owner Scott Woodson begins bounding down the
ramp, looking sharp in a fresh pressed suit.
The booing intensifies as Scotty climbs into the ring, helping John Sektor up off the mat
and yelling in his face, ordering him to get the fuck out of the ring. Sektor looks angry
and confused, but the threat of termination is enough to make the ICON Champion duck
out of the ring, grabbing his title and heading about halfway up the ramp. He stands and
watches, biting his lip as his friend is left in the ring alone.
Joe Hoffman: Keller steals a win, but what in the hell is going on?
Benny Newell: A… a Best Alliance reunion? I hope? Oh God I hope.
Michael Best snarls at Keller snatching the HOW World Championship from the apron
and holding it up in his face. He eggs the number one contender on, daring him to throw a
punch, even taking off the glasses and dropping them to the mat. Keller grits his teeth, the
roar of the crowd behind him as he clenches his fists. The two around about to square off,
but Scottywood grabs Keller’s arms from behind!
Michael Best cracks Professor Keller over the head with the HOW World Championship,
and the crowd explodes into boos as the number one contender hits the mat, holding his
skull. Mike rips the hard brace off of his “injured” left hand, stepping on Keller’s forearm
and smashing the hard brace down over and over on the infected hand that Sektor bit last
week! The crowd couldn’t be booing fucking louder, but the boos quickly turn back to
cheers….
…..as John Sektor makes the save!
A change of heart from the outside, Sektor slides into the ring and charges for
Scottywood, who bails out through the ropes and safely to the outside. Mike hightails it
backward, rolling out of the ring and joining Scottywood in jogging back up the ramp,
avoiding the fight! The crowd goes fucking apeshit for John Sektor and Professor Keller,
as the Stache helps The Prof up to his feet and raises his arm in the air! The two
opponents seem to be banding back together, with Michael Lee Best and Scottywood
standing atop the ramp with the HOW World Championship and John Sektor and Keller
standing in the ring, viciously staring down at one another as Chaos comes to an end.