Mayhem: July 6th, 2009 (2009)

Weekly Show | 120 Min
Rating:
5/10
5

Show Transcript

Monday Night Mayhem
July 6th, 2009 – #HOW62
The Best Arena, Chicago IL

 

That’s a keeper..

The HOTv feed becomes LIVE with a close up of Mayhem General Manager Ryan Faze walking through the halls of The Best Arena. With his briefcase in hand, wearing a solid black suit and an unbuttoned teal blue collared shirt, he pauses at the door with the ‘GM Faze’ nameplate and exhausts a deep sigh to ready himself for the night ahead. He swings open his office door and walks inside, only to find, to his surprise, the LSD Champion David Black sitting in his leather recliner with his feet on his desk.

Faze: What the hell are you doing in here?

David smirks, the LSD championship belt shining brightly in Faze’s well-lit office.

David Black: A little bird told me you wanted to see me.

Faze: Damn right I wanted to see you… now get the fuck out of my chair!

Faze angrily pushes Black’s feet off the table, prompting the LSD champion to stand up laughing.

Faze: Just what the hell were you thinking last week, huh? Did I not make it perfectly clear that I did NOT want Christopher America to win that match? Why the hell would you fast count a pinfall in his favor?

David Black: I don’t know.

Faze: What the hell do you mean, you don’t know??

David Black: Like I said, I don’t know. Sometimes I do things without knowing exactly why. But look, the fact is, it doesn’t really matter.

Faze: What kind of pathetic excuse is that? “You don’t know.” You better explain yourself before I kick your ass out of my office and strip you of that belt… just for sheer stupidity!

David Black: Look, I get that you’re pissed. But what’s done is done. We can’t change the past… but we can certainly shape the future.

Faze simply raises an eyebrow, in hopes that what David Black has in mind will redeem himself from what happened last week.

David Black: You see, I know you have your own agenda… and to be straight with you, I don’t trust you. But right now, we share a common interest. You don’t want America as LSD champion, and I want to keep my belt until someone pries it from my dead corpse. Now I’m not asking for charity or hand outs here, I am just offering you a deal.

Faze: I’m listening…

David Black: I want you to put a no contact rule on Christopher America, meaning that if he attacks me at any point between now and Capitol Punishment, he loses his LSD title shot. And in return, I not only promise you, but guarantee you, that Christopher America will NOT walk out of Capitol Punishment with the LSD championship. Deal?

Faze: Consider yourself lucky that I’ve come to admire your confidence since right before War Games. You’ve got yourself a deal, David… but only on one condition. Know that if you somehow fuck this up, your fate will be eerily similar to that of Michael DeNucci’s. DO NOT… let me down.

David nods, gulping deeply into his throat as the General Manager dismisses him from his office. Faze takes a comfortable seat at his desk as Black walks off, pulling out a stack of papers from his briefcase and his cell phone from his suit pocket. He takes a moment to dial and pauses to wait for the opposing party to answer, the look on his face giving a clear indication that he got an answering machine.

Faze: Yeah Lee… it’s Faze. As requested, I’m just calling you back to confirm with you one of my two keepers for after Capitol Punishment. Well… I’ve given this a lot of thought, and… well, to be honest it didn’t take that much thought at all. In fact, the choice is pretty obvious in my opinion. But anyways, consider the #2 wrestler in HOW and current ICON champion, SHANE REYNOLDS, to be off the table during the next High Octane Draft. We can talk more about that later, but be sure to call me back about next week. With Mayhem packing up and going on the road, I want to make sure my crew is compensated accordingly. Talk to you later…

As Faze hangs up his cell phone, the cameras switch to ringside, where the team of “Big Buff” Benny Newell and Joe Hoffman are standing by for the VERY LAST TIME on Mayhem!

 

Announcers welcome..

Joe Hoffman: Good evening everyone and welcome to MONDAY NIGHT MAYHEM!!

The camera pans the arena, where thousands of rabid HOW fans have gathered for the presumably last episode of Mayhem inside the Best Arena, as the program is set to hit the road next week and travel to cities all across the United States. There is certainly no shortage of signs tonight as the camera catches several as it scatters throughout the crowd.

BRING BACK THE “REAL AMERICAN HERO” COMMERCIALS

I MARK FOR MARCUS REINHARDT!

AoA = RATINGS

SHANE = CRAZIER THAN HIS BLOOD BROTHER

Joe Hoffman: As you can see, General Manager Faze is ALL BUSINESS tonight as you heard it here first… Shane Reynolds will remain with Mayhem following Capitol Punishment, and Mayhem is going on the road starting next week!

Benny Newell: Which means tonight is our FINAL BROADCAST on Mondays! Finally, I can ditch this place and sign up for that bowling league I’ve been meaning to join.

Joe Hoffman: I didn’t know you bowled.

Benny Newell: I don’t. But I hear those fuckers in that league can really hold their liquor. The important thing for us is we can focus on the only HOW show that truly matters… the “A-show”… Thursday Night Turmoil.

Joe Hoffman: Well Buff, I, for one, am going to miss it here on Mondays but am curious to see how the new broadcast team and crew pans out.

Benny Newell: Please. Like anyone can even come close to the standard that we’ve set for broadcasting ever since this place opened!

Joe Hoffman: Well enough about us because tonight, we all find out if the rumors are true; the Argonauts of Awesome are in the building and will be in the ring TOGETHER at some point later in the show!

Benny Newell: “Marvelous” Mario Marauko, “Perfect” Paul Paras, “America America America”… AHEM… erm, Christopher America… and Sektor?!?

Joe Hoffman: ALL former Stable champions and each held previous Singles gold in HOW and will go down as one of the greatest… if the THE GREATEST faction of all time.

Benny Newell: Correction. The Best Alliance is by FAR the greatest stable that not just HOW, but wrestling in general, has ever seen.

Joe Hoffman: It’s a case that’s been argued by many over the past year or so and one that can be debated til one’s head turns blue, but for right now, it’s time to showcase General Manager Faze’s New Talent Initiative.

The HOV displays a split screen of newcomers Jason Wild and Bishop Steele coming out from their locker rooms, hyping and psyching themselves up for their upcoming match against each other.

Joe Hoffman: Don’t go away!

 

 

Jason Wild vs. Bishop Steele
Singles Match

Back from commercial and Silver Phoenix is shown backstage, wearing a black t-shirt with a bird drawn on it in silver sharpie and a messily scrawled caption reading “Phoenix” below it. With a backpack slung over his shoulder, he brushes right past the cameraman before him. This allows the camera to see the back of the shirt, which, in the same silver sharpie reads “Fly like a Phoenix” with a smaller version of a bird drawn below the text. Sighing, Phoenix begins to walk towards the exit before the voice of Brian Bare stops him. Brian Bare: Hey Silver, where do you think you’re going?

Silver Phoenix: Woah! First of all, if you are going to be a lazy oaf and not say my full name, please say “Phoenix.” It sounds better. And, I am not listed on the card tonight, so I thought I’d go back to the hotel, call a prostitute, and enjoy the evening. Your mom is working tonight, right?

Brian Bare: Very funny… and besides, you can’t go. As a wrestler in HOW, you are expected to stay here until the show is completed. Remember your first match? You wrestled on short notice…

Phoenix: Ah yes, how can I forget? Costmart. He’s no longer here though. Come to think of it, neither is Spook. Both wrestlers I wrestled have been traded to Turmoil. Perhaps that is why I am not on the card tonight; if I were to face someone, they’d be lost to Turmoil and Mayhem would soon run out wrestlers.

Brian Bare: Yeah, um… so… interesting shirt.

Phoenix: Yup. Drew this bad boy up in the taxi on the way over.

Brian Bare: Shouldn’t you have some shirts printed up already?

Phoenix: Where’s the fun in that? I’d much rather display my creativity… not to mention save a few bucks. Now if you’ll excuse me… there’s a match about to start that I’d hate to miss out on.

A smirking Silver Phoenix shoves a clearly agitated Brian Bare aside and disappears around the corner of a hallway while the cameras cut to ringside.

We return to ringside where Bishop Steele and Jason Wild are already in the ring awaiting the bell. Joel Hortega signals for the bell to ring and the match is on its way. The opening features the two HOW newcomers locking up and trying to show each other how strong they are with neither one of them really coming away with the clear cut advantage.

Hoffman talks about the incident that occurred last week when Bishop Steele shook Jason Wild’s hand and was then met with a Death Valley Driver from Jason Wild. Benny chimes in about how much respect Jason Wild had earned from him at that very moment.

Bishop starts to take the advantage in the match after connecting with a clothesline and following it up with a body slam and finally dropping the elbow onto Wild. The fans react with great pleasure as Bishop acknowledges their support with a smile. The brief distraction is all it took though as when Bishop Steele turns around he is met with a drop kick by Jason Wild that sends him out of the ring and to the floor.

Joe Hoffman: Bishop Steele spent just a little too much time soaking up the praise of the fans right there.

Benny Newell: What in the hell do the fans know anyhow?

Joe Hoffman: The fans are the ones who buy the tickets that pay our checks.

Benny Newell: Yes but Lee Best is the one who signs the check so I could really care less about these people.

In the meantime Jason Wild has followed Bishop Steele to the outside and whips him into the steel steps dislodging them from the ring. Joel Hortega begins a count on both men as they battle on the outside.

UNO…

Wild body slams Steele onto the thin mat over the concrete.

DOS…

Wild bends down to grab Steele’s head and Steele kicks him on the top of the head and quickly gets to his feet.

TRES…. QUATRO….

Bishop Steel picks Jason Wild up in a military press slam position and then drops him chest first on the guardrail.

CINCO… SEIS….

Steel picks Wild up off of the ground and rolls him back into the ring. As Hortega counts SIETE Bishop Steele rolls into the ring.

Joe Hoffman: These two young athletes are showing that their not afraid to get a little dirty if they have to.

Benny Newell: Pathetic.

Jason Wild starts to get to his feet and turns around and is met with a super kick to the jaw.

Joe Hoffman: THE LAST CHANCE!

Benny Newell: How do you know all of these moves? Does someone slip you notes before the show?

Joe Hoffman: Research Benny, you should try it sometime.

Bishop Steele doesn’t seem happy to make the cover and pick up the win. Instead Bishop Steele picks Wild up off of the mat and lifts him into a Fireman’s Carry position.

Benny Newell: And what in the hell is he doing now Hoffman?

Joe Hoffman: Well he might be setting him up for ‘Redemption’.

Benny Newell: Of course you know.

Wild starts to come to and realizes the position he’s in. Thinking quickly Jason Wild pokes Bishop Steele in the eyes and escapes the fireman’s carry. Within seconds Jason Wild has Bishop Steele hoisted up on his shoulders in the Death Valley Driver and drops Steele down on the mat.

Joe Hoffman: Unfortunately for Bishop Steele he just took ‘A Walk on The Wild Side’.

Benny Newell: And now this thing is over.

Jason Wild makes the cover and Hortega drops down to make the count.

1….

2…

3!!!! Here is the winner in 3:48…. JASON WILD!

Jason Wild begins to celebrate when that celebration is cut short when “Back In The Saddle” by Aerosmith hits. The HOW fans look at the entrance confused as they haven’t heard this music before. They don’t have to wait long though as Marvelous Mario Maurako walks out onto the stage and the crowd erupts with cheers.

Joe Hoffman: HOWrestling.com reported earlier that Triple M would be here tonight and he certainly isn’t waiting long to make his presence known, as here he comes down to the ring.

Benny Newell: My question is why are these people cheering for him? Do they not remember that they hated him?

Joe Hoffman: Perhaps he has earned their respect from the whole Crow fallout.

Benny Newell: That’s shitty.

Triple M climbs into the ring and walks straight up to Jason Wild and they stand face to face. Slowly Triple M smiles and extends his hand to Jason Wild who shakes Mario’s hand, and then raises Jason Wild’s hand as the fans start to boo. With both of Wild’s arms raised in the air Triple M slips behind him and locks him in the Marvelousity (full nelson) and begins to shake him back and forth aggressively as Bishop Steele gets up to his feet. Steele gets walks over and starts slapping Jason Wild across the face. Steele shouts ‘All you had to do was shake my hand’. Triple M lets go of Wild and he falls to the mat, and then Triple M and Bishop Steele shake hands and exit the ring together.

Joe Hoffman: What is that all about? Does Triple M have some problem with Jason Wild?

Benny Newell: Ah this is complete horse shit. They just ruined Jason Wild’s celebration. What an ego that Maurako has.

The action cuts backstage…

 

Perfectly Phenomenal

We cut backstage to GM Faze’s office where Faze diligently multitasks, watching the action of Mayhem on his monitor while talking to an unknown party on his cellular phone.

Faze: What do you mean he can’t be here? You think I shelled out all this money just to have my ratings magnet in jeopardy? Fine…you know what, I have an even better idea that will emphasize just what HOW’s greatest stable is all about.

A knock raps across the office door as Faze looks up from the monitor, surprised but not rattled.

Faze: Sounds like my special guest is here. I’m out.

Ryan flips the phone shut and slides it into his desk drawer before shouting to the door.

Faze: Come in!

No sooner does Faze give the command than the door swings open and a pair of 5’8” brunettes wearing over-sized “Faze of HOW” t-shirts and little else sway through the entryway, smiling at the GM. They step over to Faze’s side of the desk, giving him a perfect view of their long, tanned, silky legs, and place their hands on his biceps, stroking them seductively. Faze looks lost in the moment as if he has died and gone to Heaven.

CRACK!

The atmosphere is suddenly snapped by the deafening sound of a bamboo cane cracking against Faze’s desk directly in front of him. He looks up to see his guest, former ICON and Stable Champion “Perfect” Paul Paras, looking down upon him with his trademark egomaniacal smirk.

Faze: Paul, glad you could make it. Please have a seat. I hoped you had enjoyed being my guest for last week’s Mayhem enough to return for this week’s big reunion. Triple P, Triple M, and Christopher America in the same ring at the same time for the first time in months… its ratings gold!

Triple P pulls up a chair and coolly sits down, reaching his cane-free hand up to snap his fingers. On command, the two women rush over to his side of the desk, one of them sitting her lovely frame down on the Perfect One’s lap and the other positioning herself behind him to rub his pristine shoulders.

Paras: Ryan Faze, the Perfect One is never opposed to making Lee Best, his silly little Turmoil show, and everything else he stands for look utterly foolish.

Faze: That’s exactly why I traded for you. You’re one of the best wrestlers HOW has to offer, you have amazing taste in women, and you love being superior to everything and everyone around you. Of course, as the General Manager of Mayhem, I call the shots around here, but I respect what you do and I have a little business proposition for you tonight that will solidify your control in HOW for a long time.

Paul’s eyebrow raises slightly from behind his mirrored sunglasses.

Paras: Go on… these perfect ears don’t have all day.

Faze: Here tonight, Shane Reynolds will take on Christopher America in a Falls Count Anywhere match with yours truly as the referee. America won’t be making it to his LSD Title match at the Pay-Per-View in one piece after Reynolds is done with him… but I want him to suffer even more. I know your past with America and we all know that tonight, you, America, and Triple M are going to meet up in the ring for the first time in ages. Some are expecting an official AoA reunion, others don’t know what to expect, but the bottom line… with no pun intended to Lee Best… is that tonight, I have a perfect plan to spell the end of Christopher America as we know him and give you his spot in the LSD Title match at Capital Punishment!

Triple P’s expression grows into a devious smile to match Faze’s.

Paras: Perfect…although I do hate boring business negotiations. Let’s say we make ourselves more comfortable.

Paul forms the Perfect Touch gesture with his free hand and places it on the foreheads of each of the two women, one after the other. The girl on his lap immediately springs to her feet as the other follows, each of them walking directly toward the cameraman, forcing him to back up further and further out of GM Faze’s office. Once he is completely outside, both girls turn their backs to the camera and slowly remove their t-shirts, revealing their flawless, completely bare skin underneath. Faze appears ready to have a heart attack at the sight in front of him as Paras simply smirks. The girls toss their t-shirts behind them, then slam the door shut, leaving our poor cameraman and the HOW viewers out in the cold as we head to commercial break.

 


Benny took over supplying the caps for Scotty who is blacking out..

 

Precursor to the tag…

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back everyone and boy, what a night it’s been already for our final broadcast on Mayhem, right Benny?

Benny Newell: Did you see those chicks in Faze’s office? Ya know, as big a tool as Triple P is, his taste in women is literally perfect.

Joe Hoffman: Well one has to wonder whether or not he will take Faze up on his offer and turn on Christopher America during the AoA’s big reunion later tonight!

Suddenly, the arena’s lights dim and “Thrashaholic” by Gama Bomb blasts out of the speakers. The fans cheer as Trent steps out on to stage with a mic ready in his hand. He gives the universal throat slashing gesture to say “Cut the fuckin’ music” and wastes no time raising the mic to talk as he walks to the ring.

Trent: Eisen!

Benny Newell: Damn it, what’s the loud mouth doing out here so early, his match isn’t for another five minutes?

Joe Hoffman: Were you asleep on Aftershock?

Benny Newell: Quite probably.

Joe Hoffman: Urgh… well, Trent’s probably out here because Eisen brutally attacked him two weeks ago with no provocation. These men were the best of friends before that, they’ve worked together through out their careers and even are student and mentor, but for unknown reasons, he attacked Trent and wants to make his life hell.

Trent’s bellow echoes through the arena.

Trent: Get yer stinkin’ arse down to this damn ring right now!

The giant steps onto the ring apron and over the top rope. He turns to face the entrance ramp and starts pacing back and forth.

Trent: I ain’t kiddin’, mate, get the hell out here, I don’t care that our match ain’t fuckin’ startin’ yet, we’re gonna get this fuckin’ rumble goin’ with or without Reinhardt and fuckin’ Kostoff! Were it anyone else, I’d take it in my stride, but you? You of all fuckin’ people! Ya come out, interupt my fuckin’ victory speech, kick me in the motherfuckin’ bollocks ‘n’ beat me senseless! Ya fuckin’ berrate me ‘n’ slap me with as many fuckin’ verbal haymakers than ya threw fuckin’ punches ‘n’ all through this ya act like I fuckin’ wronged you. Ya act like I turned my fuckin’ back on ya, like I threw ya to the fuckin’ side without a fuckin’ care after takin’ all I fuckin’ need off ya.

He pauses a moment and picks his words carefully before continuing.

Trent: I never turned my fuckin’ back on ya dude, if ya needed some fuckin’ help, ya just needed to fuckin’ ask. That’s the problem, though, ain’t it? The great Trip fuckin’ Eisen, he doesn’t ask fer help, he don’t need any fuckin’ help, too fuckin’ proud to accept it or even fuckin’ notice it, even when it’s his best fuckin’ mate offerin’. But this ain’t ’bout fuckin’ helpin’ out a mate who’s fuckin’ down in the dumps at all, is it, mate? This is about all ya failed to fuckin’ accomplish in yer career. This is about how, in the one place that really fuckin’ mattered to ya, yer not gonna be remembered as anythin’ fuckin’ special but just another fuckin’ wrestler. Ya’ll be remembered as a fuckin’ successful one, sure, but no more so than fuckin’ Viper. Ya just fuckin’ coasted through SSE doin’ just enough to get a fuckin’ main event here, a title shot there, ya did enough to get by ‘n’ get noticed, but never made the fuckin’ effort to get in the fuckin’ history books. Then, outta no where, ya had the chance to reclaim past fuckin’ glory ‘n’ be the only fuckin’ 3 time SSE World Champ, but ya fuckin’ stuffed it. I beat ya, Trip, ‘n’ ya just couldn’ fuckin’ stand it!

Trent leans over the ropes and stabs a finger out in the direction of the entrance ramp.

Trent: That’s twice I fuckin’ beat yer arse twice fer that fuckin’ title, both time ‘cos ya fuckin’ bottled it! Ya lost yer fuckin’ nerve steppin’ in the ring with me Trip. Was it ‘cos my career’s been every-fuckin’-thing yers ain’t? Was it ‘cos ya realised ya were trailin’ behind yer own fuckin’ student? Or was it cos ya just couldn’ stand the fact I wouldn’t throw away my own career fer the benefit of the great fuckin’ Trip Eisen? Ya couldn’t take pride in bein’ the trainer, mentor ‘n’ friend of the dude willin’ to share his fuckin’ success with ya, nah, it has to be all about Trip fuckin’ Eisen or nout at fuckin’ all! Ya think I’m the causa all yer fuckin’ problems? Nah, it’s all fuckin’ you, dude.

He steps away from the ropes and backs to the center of the ring.

Trent: But ya want to make my life a livin’ fuckin’ hell? Fuck you, Trip! Ya wanna do something, get yer arse down to this ring ‘n’ we’ll fuckin’ settle this right fuckin’ now!

Trent throws down the mic and stalks around the ring, waiting for Eisen to show his face.

Joe Hoffman: Trent’s throwing down the gauntlet to the former King, Trip Eisen!

Benny Newell: Didn’t Eisen do that last week, though?

Before Joe could reply, Eisen’s entrance music hits and Eisen walks onto the stage, resplendent with a smirk and microphone.

Eisen: Trent, the odds of me making my way down to that ring right now are at, well… none. Why exactly would I want to do it? I mean, you’ll have the advantage – for a start, I have to enter the ring, then stand back up, but you? You’re already there. I wasn’t even planning on taking part in the match. So, really, nice attempt, nice to see you come out here all fired up and angry. So to put it bluntly for the three brain cells still ticking inside that big bald head of yours, the only way you’re going to get me in a fight, in a brawl or whatever is when it’s on MY terms.

Trent frowns and snatches the mic back up from the canvas.

Trent: What a fuckin’ coward! Yer fuckin’ terms ya say? Then how ’bout we fuckin’ settle this at fuckin’ Capitol Punishment in a matcha yer fuckin’ choosin’! I don’t give a shit when, where or fuckin’ how I beat yer arse, I’ll take ya on ‘n’ leave ya out cold fer a third fuckin’ time!

The crowd go crazy at the suggestion of the match up.

Joe Hoffman: Can you believe that? Eisen versus Trent at Capitol Punishment? While they’re new to HOW, this match up has been anticipated amongst fans for years!

Benny Newell: I don’t see what the big deal is, Eisen will just squash Trent.

Eisen chuckles to himself.

Eisen: Accept a match with you? Why on earth would I want to do that? If we have a match, then, yeah, you’re damned right that I’ll choose the match, that I’ll be sure to test you. Really, though, you just think that I’m some moronic guy who’s ooh, going to accept your challenge because you’re the great Trent, the SSE World Champion? Fuck off.

Joe Hoffman: What? Did he just decline the challenge?

Benny Newell: Why would he do that? Eisen’s not a coward!

Joe Hoffman: So you say. What’s going on here?

Eisen: Like I said, you’d be nothing without me. Absolutely shit… just some guy with a bunch of wasted potential smoking weed off somewhere in middle England. So you know, if I decide to raise your profile again, if I decide to make you into a superstar here in HOW by wrestling you in the greatest match of your career, means I’ll be picking the match. And when it takes place, Capitol Punishment or elsewhere. But, Trent, y’know, I’d like to wish you a happy rest of the evening. Hopefully, it’ll be long, and, you know – I hope you enjoy sobriety.

Eisen, laughing, reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out what is quite blatantly a seven foot stoner’s stash bag. Trent throws the mic down and throws himself out the ring to sprint up the ramp like a juggernaut after Eisen who immediately turns tail and runs off backstage as the camera cuts to the announcers.

Joe Hoffman: What is Eisen doing? How ticked off does he want Trent to get? This harassment could end in Eisen being carted off in a box if he’s not careful!

Benny Newell: Eisen knows what he’s doing, he’s got a plan and Trent’s playing right into it!

Joe Hoffman: But what about the tag match?!? It’s scheduled to begin any moment!

 

Trent & Marcus Reinhardt vs. Trip Eisen & Chris Kostoff
Tag Team Match

Cue Kostoff’s music, who emerges from backstage to an ENORMOUS pop, the fans certainly showing their appreciation for the Hall of Famer who is about to wrestle his last match on Mayhem.

Joe Hoffman: And here comes the monster, Chris Kostoff! I’ll tell ya what Benny, partner or no partner, Kostoff is certainly going to leave his mark here on Mayhem before heading over to Turmoil.

Benny Newell: The only mark that an ape like Kostoff is going to leave is a shit-stain in the middle of the ring. Watching a Kostoff match is like watching primates fling their own poo at each other; it’s entertaining as hell, but after a while, it just stinks.

Bryan McVay: Introducing first, from Tampa, Florida, weighing 285 pounds… CHRIS KOSTOFF!!!

Kostoff tosses the shirt he was wearing to a young fan sitting at ringside and climbs into the ring, flexing what is possibly the largest right bicep in HOW. Then Marcus Reinhardt’s music cuts off Kostoff’s and the 37-year old rookie pops out from the back, looking confused as to where his partner is.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, from Greensboro, North Carolina, weighing 247 pounds… MARCUS REINHARDT!!!

Joe Hoffman: Just last week, Reinhardt suffered his first loss in HOW thanks to the man that was supposed to be his partner here tonight.But from the looks of it, Trent and Trip Eisen are still chasing after each other throughout the arena and this match will now be a singles competition between Reinhardt and Chris Kostoff, unless one of those two gets back in time.

DING ~ DING ~ DING!

After a few short moments of uncertainty, Kostoff and Reinhardt both shrug at each other and lock up, with Kostoff using his tremendous strength and size advantage to power Reinhardt into the turnbuckle. Referee Joel Hortega calls for a clean break and Kostoff complies, backing off and allowing Reinhardt to attempt another lock up attempt that only provides the same result. This time, Kostoff rams his shoulder into Reinhardt’s midsection, then another, causing Marcus to double over and get dropped by Kostoff with a Single Arm DDT. Kostoff covers looking for an early pin!

UNO…

A kickout by Reinhardt has Kostoff on the immediate attack again with a side headlock that keeps Marcus grounded. The fans begin the slow clap, cheers coming in for both superstars, then the clap gets quicker and quicker until Reinhardt is able to bring himself to his feet, still locked in the headlock, until he pushes off. Kostoff flies into the ropes and off again, using his tremendous mass and size to send a charging Marcus Reinhardt down with a shoulder block!

Reinhardt is quick to his feet though and ducks Kostoff’s lariat attempt, sending him flying over his shoulder with a hip toss. From behind, it’s Reinhardt with a submission maneuver on Kostoff, wrenching his neck backwards with a Chin Lock that has Kostoff reaching for the ropes. Again, Kostoff’s strength enables him to do so and Hortega calls for the break, which Reinhardt is reluctant to abide by considering he needs every advantage he can take at this point with the Hall of Famer.

UNO…

DOS…

TRES…

CUA-

Reinhardt breaks the hold and uses the heel of his boot to stomp at Kostoff’s lower back. This has Kostoff cringing in pain until Marcus assists him back to his feet and Irish whips him into the turnbuckle. Kostoff leaps up with surprising agility, only for nobody to be home and Reinhardt to shoot him face-first into the turnbuckle with a Standing Drop Kick. Reinhardt’s quick to his feet again as Kostoff staggers backwards. He spins Kostoff around and goes for his RABID REDEMPTION cutter finisher, but Kostoff shoves the “Doberman” away, dizzying him for a moment until he can land a resounding Spinebuster that echoes throughout the arena and has the crowd going wild!

Joe Hoffman: What a counter by Kostoff!

Kostoff hooks the leg!

UNO…

DOS…

Joe Hoffman: Kickout by Reinhardt!

Benny Newell: YAWN! Let me know when the match is over, Joe. Hey, wait a minute! Cotton candy… over here!

Having had enough, Kostoff signals for the NO REMORSE Sitdown Powerbomb with a menacing look in his eye. He finds Reinhardt stirring below him, on his knees and reaching up to try and use his faded blue jeans to try and bring himself to his feet. Kostoff laughs and positions his opponent, lifting him up, but Reinhardt kicks his legs to bring himself back down. Kostoff tries again but Reinhardt counters with a Back Body Drop! Kostoff pops to his feet quickly though and charges at Reinhdart, who meets him in the center of the ring with a Death Valley Driver!

Joe Hoffman: HUGE momentum shift as Reinhardt showing us all why he’s worthy of one last run in his professional career!

Benny Newell: Whatever. 37-years old or not, Reinhardt will always be a NOOB in my book.

Again, Kostoff clenches at his lower back as he slowly comes to his feet. All the while, Reinhardt lurks from behind, waiting for the exact moment to pounce.

Joe Hoffman: RABID REDEMPTION!

UNO…

DOS…

TRES!!!

DING ~ DING ~ DING!

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner… MARCUS REINHARDT!!!

Reinhardt can’t believe it, and neither can Kostoff who blinks his eyes rapidly to regain his focus and shake off the cob webs.

Benny Newell: I can’t believe it, Joe!

Joe Hoffman: Marcus Reinhardt continues his impressive run here in HOW with narrow victory over Kostoff. He barely eked that one out Benny!

Reinhardt celebrates, raising his arm into the air as the fans cheer him on after his 6 minute and 1 second victory. Kostoff eventually comes to his feet and joins him, raising Reinhardt’s other arm and slapping him on the shoulder as a sign of respect before exiting the ring and leaving for Turmoil. The fans in attendance give Kostoff a loud ovation, a sign of thanks for his time on Mayhem.

Joe Hoffman: Hang on a second, we’re getting word that our cameras have caught up with Trent and Trip Eisen and the chase is still going on!

A quick cut backstage has a camera being shaken about as the cameraman runs after Trent, who is still hot on Eisen’s heels. Eisen pulls over shelving and tables to clutter the path and throws chairs and backstage detritus at Trent to try slowing him down.

Joe Hoffman: Wow, Eisen really does not want Trent to get ahold of him.

Benny Newell: It’s not like Trent will ever catch him, he’ll be stopping for a smoke any moment now!

Joe Hoffman: Eisen stole his suspicious looking herbal additive, remember?

Benny Newell: His weed? Oh right, well that changes things. Tell me when the date for Eisen’s funeral’s been announced, I hear he thinks funerals should be parties so I’ll get all the booze I can nick! Think of the money I could make from that.

Running at full sprint, Trent gets almost within reach of Eisen, but the cowardly yet clever wrestler quickly steps aside and puts on the breaks, but leaves a leg purposefully in Trent’s path to trip the big man up. Trent tumbles head over heels into a pile of folded chairs. Eisen wastes little time running on ahead and by the time Trent pulls himself out of the pile of chairs, Eisen had disappeared around a corner. Trent sprints on after him, rounds the corner and collapses into an unconscious heap, having run full tilt into a chair shot from Eisen.

Joe Hoffman: Oh my god! Eisen nearly decapitated Trent with that chair! Someone get some medics down there! That was such a despicable thing to do!

Benny Newell: What are you talking about? If you had a pissed off seven foot lunatic chasing you because you stole drugs from him, I bet you’d do exactly that to stop him.

Joe Hoffman: Not that I’d have to worry about stealing drugs from anyone, much less a giant like Trent! But anyways, as our medics take a look at Trent, we’ve got to take another commercial break. Don’t go away folks!

 


Will Mayhem win the ratings war again?

 

Added Punishment

Back from commercial and a quick replay is shown of what just went down with Trent chasing after Trip Eisen, with Eisen leveling the behemoth Trent with the steel chair. The scene then cuts to Ryan Faze’s office, where our GM is still doing paperwork, possibly finalizing details involving his new crew for Monday Night Mayhem. Suddenly, his office door nearly comes off at the hinges as Trent shoves it open and storms up to Faze’s desk, his forehead bandaged and face so red with anger you would expect steam to start coming out of his ears. The big man slams his fist down on the desk, making all the stationary scatter about and the neat piles of paper which Faze was working on fall to the floor. Trent: Book me in a fuckin’ match with Eisen right fuckin’ now! No fuckin’ tag match bullshit and no fuckin’ way fer him to run off. I want that fuckin’ shitheaded, arsesucking fuckin’ cuntbag in a match and I don’t give a shit ‘ow many people I ‘ave to drop on their fuckin’ ‘eads to get it!

Faze looks furious at the interruption and appears distinctly unimpressed.

Faze: And you think I will do that for you after you just barge in, without even so much as a knock and start making threats to my physical well being? Do you know how fucking busy I am tonight?!? Anyways, I guess while I have you here, I must concede that the marketing potential of a match between you and Trip is immeasurable. But it would be a waste to throw it away on a spur of the moment match…

Trent: Then book it at the fuckin’ Pay-Per-View then, I don’t give a shit, ‘slong as I get to cave that two-faced prick’s skull in.

Faze: Hmmm… I don’t think so. Trent: What the fuck do you mean ‘you don’t think so’?! Book the fuckin’ match ‘er I swear to God I’ll…

Faze: You’ll what?

Trent controls himself from his rage for a moment and silences himself, his chest heaving as he braces both of his arms on Faze’s desk.

Faze: That’s what I thought. Listen Trent, you want a match with Trip? Then I will book the match when I decide it should be booked. Let me make one thing perfectly clear to you; you’re a Mayhem wrestler and I’m your General Manager! I decide what matches get booked… and if I don’t think it’s the right time for a match, I won’t book it. Besides, getting all angry and violent about it won’t get you what you want. Trent: Fuck you, then. When I find him, Eisen’s a fuckin’ dead man!

Faze: Need I remind you that your “good buddy” Trip is also a Mayhem wrestler and HOW has a substantial investment here. If Eisen were to suffer any, shall we say, unexplainable accidents, your contract may find its way to the shredder. We don’t want a valuable asset being crippled by a raging drug addict dying for his next hit, now would we? Nor would the company wish to associate with said raging drug addict. Now get the fuck out of my office.

Trent throws up a middle finger in Faze’s face and storms off, slamming the door so hard it nearly comes off its hinges again. Then a figure slips out from the shadows behind a filing cabinet.

Faze: Sorry about that little interruption. Now… Mr. Eisen… what kind of stipulation did you have in mind for your Pay-Per-View match with Trent?

The show quickly cuts back to ringside, where Benny is downing another shot of Jack and Joe appears baffled at what just went down.

Joe Hoffman: So there will be a Pay-Per-View match between Trent and Trip after all?

Benny Newell: Ha ha! Faze was just fucking with Trent the whole time! ‘Bout time someone proved a point about letting people know who’s boss around here.

Joe Hoffman: Looks like its official folks! Trent vs. Trip at Capitol Punishment! It’s going to be one hell of a war between those two!

Benny Newell: Lots of blood will be lost in that match, Joe, I guarantee it.

Joe Hoffman: Let’s just hope they don’t kill each other… or at least end up like their former boss, Michael DeNucci. We’ll be right back!

 


HELL IN A CELL INFERNO WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
Issac Slade vs. Aceldama©

ICON CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
Maximillian Kael vs. Shane Reynolds©

LSD CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
Christopher America vs. David Black©

HALL OF FAME RESPECT IS EARNED MATCH
Mark O’Neal vs. Darkwing
BOBBINETTE CAREY AS SPECIAL REFEREE MATCH

Kirsta Lewis vs. Scottywood

FINAL ENCOUNTER
Trip Eisen vs. Trent

Max Kael v David Black
Singles Match

“Bring On The Singularity” cues up as Max Kael slinks out onto the stage in his wrestling gear with his face still bandaged up from unknown injuries gained sometime after War Games. He is met with a chorus of Boos as random bits of trash are thrown in his direction, all of which go unnoticed by the former co-owner of HOW.

Benny Newell: Now there’s a fucker that make’s me agree with the crowd! This crazy psycho is probably the weirdo killing people down in South Carolina!

Joe Hoffman: I doubt that, Benny..

Benny Newell: Look at that face! Or rather that lack of one! He’s one shady motherfucker let me tell you..

Joe Hoffman: Please don’t. It’s true, however folks, Max Kael is not getting much love from the fans here at the Best Alliance where his mind games with Shane Reynolds as of late has started to come to a head.

Benny Newell: WAIT..what? Who’s getting head?

Joe Hoffman:..sigh..

Max slithers into the ring before slipping over too his corner where he allows himself to be checked for weapons by Matt Boettcher.

“Survive” by Lacuna Coil hits the arena and David Black walks out onto the stage from the backstage area. He looks around at the crowd, before walking down the ramp with the LSD title slung over his shoulder, his eyes looking over the corwd who boo him loudly.

Benny Newell: Now there is an LSD Champion! No.. wait. My Mistake. There is THE LSD Champion!

Joe Hoffman: Indeed, as of late David Black has gone to lengths to make sure his legacy is secured. Black has to be thinking Capital Punishment with his eyes set on a title defense against Christopher America, the man who David Black laid out last week following America’s win over Kostoff.

Benny Newell: And we all know that David Black is going to destroy that Red, White and Blu-

Benny is cut off as we return to David Black right as Max Kael is seen jumping between the ring ropes at the LSD Champion on the outside, both men falling too the ground in a heap as the crowd goes nuts. Max Kael slowly stumbles back too his feet as the dazed David Black pushes his title away, climbing back up to his feet himself. Turning he meets a stiff fist from Max which sends Black stumbling into the side of the ring. Max continues to hammer on David Black as Matt Boettcher, unable to actually start the match, merely demands that Max allow Black to enter the ring.

Max shushes Boettcher and grabs Black by the head, throwing him into the ring pole which causes the LSD Champion to collapse too the floor. Max stands over him, slapping him in the back of the head before rolling him into the ring. As Max slides in behind him Boettcher is finally able to signal for the bell as the match officially starts. Max stays on the offensive putting the boots to Black’s face, working him over with a series of stiff kicks before dropping an elbow drop across Black’s neck attempting the cover..

1..

2…

Kickout!

Black manages to force his shoulder up as Max snaps back up too his feet, pulling Black up by his hair before whipping him into the ropes attempting a Back Body Drop, however he telegraphs it and Black is able to counter with a lightning fast DDT that bounces Max’s head off the mat! Max spasms on the mat for a few seconds while Black is given a reprieve to collect himself following the sudden assault at the start of the match.

Max slowly stirs as Black is able to charge forward with a quick dropkick too Max’s chest putting him down again with a thud. Both men snap back up too the feet however Max is now greeted with a stiff closeline which once again takes Max off his feet. Just the same both men pop up again and once again Max tries to go to the mill only to get hit with a high crossbody which once again takes him down to the mat in a pinning situation!

1!

2!

Kickout!

The flurry of action results only in a two count as Max is able to get his shoulder up however it is clear alot of his steam has been taken out. Black jumps back up too his feet and into the ropes as Max continues to lay dazed on the mat unaware as Black hits a jumping senton across Max’s ribs. Wearing down Max, the LSD Champion poses to a chorus of boos though a few cheers mingle for his natural athletism. As Max tries to crawl away to fine refuge in the ropes Black turns and notices laying the books to Max’s back and chest with a series of kicks.

As Black keep’s Max locked down in the center of the ring he fires off a series of stiff kicks too the side of Max’s head before dropping down into a pin!

1..

2..

Kickout!

Reflex kicks in and Max throws his shoulder up as best he can as he breaks the pin. Black, wanting to keep up the pressure, spins over and locks on a headlock in the center of the ring on Max, wearing his opponent down while allowing himself a break. Max struggles and flails to little avail as the LSD Champion keeps the hold on tight. Slowly Max drifts as Boettcher checks him.. Matt lifts the arm..

1…

Picking up the arm again he lets it fall..

2….

Once again Boettcher lifts the arm…

3!!

NO! Max manages to keep his arm up and instead, twists his body and sents a thumb into David Black’s eye causing him to release the hold! Holding his neck, Max Kael drags himself away from Black who rolls around the ring holding his face where Max jabbed his thumb.

Pulling himself up to his feet, Max slumps into the near by corner, his eyes staring at Black who is slowly pulling himself, still holding his face. Max signals for the Singularity and slowly hedges out of the corner toward his opponent. Seeing his opening as Black turns around he charges forward..

BLACKOUT!

Black manages to catch Max coming in with the Blackout blasting the Prime Minister of Maxopotamia square in the face with both knees. Max falls back as Black scrambles for the cover..

1!

2!

3!!!

WINNER: DAVID BLACK IN 9 MINUTES 40 SECONDS!!

Max’s leg twitches as David Black rolls out of the ring, still holding a hand over his eye where Max jammed his thumb. Boettcher follows Black up the ramp and hands him his LSD Title before lifting his hand as he is announced the winner.

Joe Hoffman: Excellent counter by David Black with the Blackout earning him a much deserved win here tonight!

Benny Newell: And Best yet Max lost! Crazy fucker! I hope America was watching cause that’s what he has in store for him! A quick and deadly end!

Back in the ring Max slowly recovers as the fans boo him. Shaking the cobwebs free he slowly stumbles back up too his feet and looks around as if he is confused as to why he is there and what recently happened.

 

Really??

There was no time for celebrations for the victor or commiserations for the defeated. In fact there is barely time for the second bell to ring and David Black to climb victoriously back to his feet and out of the ring when suddenly, it happens. In place of the bell, there is instead nothing but a sudden whooshing sound, the sound of something heavy drifting, falling, soaring down through the air which is rushing fruitlessly to try and hold it up. The whooshing is followed by the inevitable: the crashing splat of human flesh and bone colliding with great force against it’s unavoidable destination, in this case, the dead center of the ring….leaving a huge crater in its immediate wake!

Crowd: HO-LY SHIT!!!

They shout in unison, all in shock.

Timekeeper: HO-LY SHIT!!!

He shouts, the impact of what has just witnessed not lost on him either. Nor is it, also, lost on the ring announcer, the cameramen, the ringside crew, or the referee Matt Boettcher.

Bryan McVay/Cameramen/Ringside Crew/Matt Boettcher: HO-LY SHIT!!!

Even Joe Hoffman is powerless to prevent the out-of-character expletive pour from his lips, prompting Benny Newell to turn surprised to the side and spit the mouthful of Jack he had just took straight from the bottle all over the nearby audience members.

Joe Hoffman: HO-LY SHIT!!

Benny Newell: What the fuck is everyone talking about? What the fuck is going on?

Benny shouts, his questions directed solely at Joe, obviously, being completely oblivious to all that happened in the moments it took it to find his bottle from beneath the announcer’s table and have a long sip. If ever there was a cue for a flashback moment, that was it and immediately it appears, rewinding to a few seconds ago….taking the man – for that is what the ring-destroying missile is clearly revealed to be – back up into the air and Maximillian Kael back down to the moment David Black achieved victory.

Following the man, though, back all the way to the rafters, the image moving in slow motion, we see the man is topless, wearing only a smart set of pants and black shoes, and the skin of his top half is covered in a mixture of bruises, cuts, and spots of dried blood. Although his face is partially obscured from view, the face of the man waiting to receive the current gravity-defying unknown is all to familiar to the booing audience.

Joe Hoffman: It’s Shane Reynolds!!

He says over the image playing on his monitor, as well as the HOV and every currently viewing television set at home. The style of the face paint is different from usual, but it’s definitely him. He catches the man by the back of the head, gripping it tightly as his other hand goes goes quickly to the man’s wrist. Immediately the footage changes direction and proceeds forwards again as Shane stares down at the ring intensely, waiting for the right moment, which comes almost immediately. He leans in and whispers something to the man, who is trembling beneath his talon-esque grasp. It’s inaudible to all but the lip-readers of the world.

Shane Reynolds: Fear not the hell that awaits you – Maximillian Kael and others will be there to keep you company before you know it.

And then, with a swift knee to the lower back and a loosening of his hold, the whole commotion is witnessed again, this time in full glory, from beginning to end, revealing the man as Phineaus the Wrestling Historian, whom Max had offered Shane last week as some sort of bizarre gift. He has no option but to fall foot after foot and foot, before crashing hard into the ring, the impact having the immediate effect already witnesses. Its revealed now to have missed David Black by some luck and having a second before he left the ring, Maximillian Kael avoided a fatal crushing by even more pure luck as it drops barely an inch and a half away to the right of him, catching his attention straight away, as he rolls immediately to his left, staggering quickly to his feet.

Joe Hoffman: Oh, my god!!

Comes the sudden, although more under control, yell from the veteran announcer, cueing the footage to end as abruptly as Benny’s words commenced it. His words are proceeded by a loud groaning as metal shifts from its natural position. The cameras cutting back to the ring just in time to see the four turnbuckles collapse inwards and the whole right side collapse.

Standing on the left, Max, having started got fully to his feet now, approaching to see exactly what bomb damn near fell on his head, turns back suddenly and leaps for the ropes, managing to grab them and pull himself out of the ring before sliding into the man-made hole also. From the safety of the outside, Max stares back at the ring for a few moments, yelling relentlessly for his security detail and SWAT team members. And then, still yelling, he hears a voice call to him far more audible than his own.

Shane Reynolds: Max–

He suddenly turns his eyes upwards, following the already set example of the crowd, having, unlike them, missed the HOV footage whilst investigating the hole in the ground, and sees Shane Reynolds staring scornfully back down at him, a microphone already in hand. The name of his bitterest enemy hatefully drawn out, spoken with a mass abundance of malevolent menace.

Shane Reynolds: –I’ve decided you can have your gift back. You really think anything I do is to satisfy and appease you?

Grabbing a microphone from the near by announcer, Max looks up at Shane, a smile seen between the bandages on his face. The sound of a tongue clicking against the roof of a mouth is heard before Max’s scratchy voice snakes between his bandaged lips.

Max Kael: Heh-heh, . you just dropped a man into the ring causing it to collapse in on itself.. maybe you did it to satisfy yourself but you’ve appeased us.. you made him sing, Shane! Sing the song of your own downfall but we personally think you’re a better person for it, my son.

Shane Reynolds: I did it to put an early end to your miserable life, but I guess the fates shone in your favour on this occasion. Regardless, the only music I hear – and always hear until I’m finally rid of you – is your funeral march….

Max Kael: Oooh-heh-heh! Goodness, Shane, that’s emo-tastically dark of you. Tell me, does it swing to the sound of “My Heart Will Go On”? You need us Shane, like any scared little boy needs his father. You took Ms. Giovanni’s eyes. You threw poor Phineaus through the ring..

Max takes a moment to actually turn and spit at the ring where Phineaus had just taken a recent nose dive. His action suddenly accompanied by a sound so strange in the circumstances, it catches many by surprise: laughter. Shane’s laughter, a curious juxtaposition to the cold lack of emotion in his eyes and his somewhat fearless and erratic movement along the rafters, walking backwards and forwards, seemingly without support.

Shane Reynolds: You are starting to disappoint me, Max. You say I am cut and dry, not living up to expectations, and yet you are resorting to emo-related comments. That’s on level with Darkwing and Christopher America…..rock bottom in other words. Under normal circumstances I’d perhaps say you aren’t worthy after all, that maybe it should be you that needs to prove yourself to me! I mean, I finished Ms. Giovanni where you couldn’t, I disposed of Phineaus where you could only toy with him. I’ve made sacrifice after sacrifice in preparation and proving myself…..whereas you have done nothing!

Shane pauses for a second, in both sound and movement, to glare back down at Max.

Shane Reynolds: …But since you insist on continuing with this ‘Father and son’ nonsense, and because I am unable to let the past….so be it. I can let that pass…for now. You see, I don’t need a father. My Father was a manipulative, tyrannical and oppressive man, dominating and tormenting my childhood and overall existence. But long ago I rid myself of him…..and I guarantee, like him since that’s what you seem to aspire to be, I’m going to rid myself and HOW of you!

Max Kael: ..Fight, fight as hard as you can, you won’t beat us, It’s all part of the plan.. heh-heh..

Is all Max says, the bitterness in Shane’s eyes intensifying as he hears these words.

Shane Reynolds: Oh, I am going to do more than beat you, Max–

Shane sneers now, glaring intensely over the top of the microphone.

Shane Reynolds: This goes far beyond such things now. I’m going to destroy everyone who is, or ever has been, anything to do with you. You may have saved Captain Price from me, but there are others and I will find them. Then I am not only going to destroy you, but make sure that the name Kael is removed from this world completely!

The security team finally arrives and surrounds Max, although there is not much danger of harm given the distance between the two men. The conversation over, Max begins to back away, his circle of defense moving with him back up the ramp, each of their eyes and red-sights of their guns trained up into the rafters where Shane remains staring at Max, right up until he disappears from view…..vanishing back into the shadows himself a moment later.

The camera turns back to the announcer table, and the flabbergasted expression of Joe Hoffman.

Joe Hoffman: Ladies and Gentleman, I don’t know what to say–

Crowd: HO-LY SHIT!!

They shout, urging him to swear again, but failing as he continues as though he never heard them.

Joe Hoffman: –Shane Reynolds and Maximillian Kael have both made their feelings clear tonight, with the former dropping a huge – and literal BOMB from the rafters and destroying the ring in the process. War Games is over and yet the casualties continue to pile up!

Medics storm the ring, navigating the collapsed structure as best as they can, moving swiftly the whole, a rogue cameramen following with them. He peers over the edge, finally giving everyone a glimpse inside and of Phineaus. His unconscious body, laying spread-eagle at the bottom, a complete mess, showing no signs of life.

Paramedic #1: We need an ambulance!

Paramedic #2: We need a stretcher!!

The camera zooms in closer, focusing on Phineaus’ battered and bruised chest, a large previously unseen mark in particular, which appears – no, definitely is – the letters S and R carved brutally and crudely into his chest, dried blood visible all around it.

Paramedic #3: We need some of Bob Jared’s chest hair!!!

Joe Hoffman: It really has been a hell of a night already and we still have one match left, although where it will be held now is anyone’s guess. But be sure, ladies and gentlemen, that Mayhem will continue after this emergency break!

 


First edition of HOW Classics is no online!!

 

Cardboards Rule!!

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back folks. Hopefully, you used the commercial break to catch your breath because WOW, what a Mayhem it has been thus far!

Benny Newell: I must say, Joe… I’m beginning to hate the fact that we’re going to be exclusive to Turmoil after this show. For Christ’s sake, a man has been killed…

Joe Hoffman: Although not official as all that is known at this point is that Phineus is being transported to the Cook County Memorial Hospital for further evaluation.

Benny Newell: Whatever, like we ever needed an HOW Historian to begin with. Oh, did I mention that the fucking ring has been destroyed? All of this and we still have our AoA reunion and Main Event left!

Joe Hoffman: Luckily, our Main Event for the evening is a Falls Count Anywhere match and I can only imagine what Special Referee Ryan Faze has in store for Christopher America.

Benny Newell: Plus you heard earlier, our General Manager’s proposition to America’s former stable mate Perfect Paul Paras! I find it really hard to believe that America will be escaping the evening unscathed, as the new-found alliance between Shane Reynolds and Ryan Faze appears to be unstoppable.

Suddenly, “Ladies and Gentlemen” by Saliva starts as Christopher America, Perfect Paul Paras, and Marvelous Mario Maurako make their way out onto the stage carrying their infamous weapons, the American flag chair, Singapore cane, and 2×4 respectively.

Joe Hoffman: It’s a historic night here on Mayhem as this is the first time the Argonauts of Awesome have been together in quite some time.

Benny Newell: You do realize that nobody ever really cared about these idiots, right Joe?

Joe Hoffman: Well nobody agreed with their tactics but you have to admit they always found ways to get the job done.

Benny Newell: I’ll admit nothing.

The three members of the Argonauts of Awesome stand atop the entrance ramp since the ring has been destroyed and Triple M is handed a microphone to speak first.

Triple M: WHO ROCKS THE HOUSE!?!

The fans enthusiastically scream back ‘The A-O-A’ and cheer loudly.

Triple M: Damn it feels good to be back inside the Best Arena with my partners Triple P and Triple A! I know, I know… rumors have been flying all week surrounding our return, but I am extremely happy to announce that I have officially signed back on with HOW… and more importantly Monday Night Mayhem!

The fans erupt in cheers upon learning of the return of the “Marvelous One.”

Triple M: Now don’t get too excited because you won’t be seeing me in that ring. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been talking to Triple P and Triple A about my plans here in HOW and unfortunately… they don’t include the Argonauts of Awesome anymore.

Triple P and Christopher America shake their heads in agreement as Triple M continues.

Triple M: As a team the Argonauts of Awesome accomplished everything we had originally planned to do. We obtained the HOW Stable Championships and put them on the map… however at the same time we killed the competition and thus also ended the division, even though Lee Best would like for you to believe otherwise.

With separate microphones, “Perfect” Paul Paras and Christopher America interject, albeit briefly.

Paras: That’s right Mario… as AWESOME as we all were on a team, we are now going to go our own separate ways to become successful on our own.

America: And for me, that starts tonight against Shane Reynolds!

Obviously, the final comment from America doesn’t sit well as “Phase” by Breaking Benjamin hits and the crowd begins to boo unmercifully. General Manager Ryan Faze steps out onto the ramp wearing a striped referee shirt holding a cardboard cutout of John Sektor. The three AoA members look on with annoyance at the interruption as Faze stands across from them on the stage with his arm around “Sektor.”

Faze: Alright cut the music! Sorry guys… I hate to be the one to break up the party but I think you boys are forgetting a little something and someone. I couldn’t help but notice that John Sektor wasn’t here with you guys tonight. Any ideas why that might be?

Triple M: Because you practice witchcraft and turned him into cardboard?

Faze: Ha. Fucking. Ha. You always were the quick one, Mario.

America: For your information Faze, Sektor wanted to be here tonight for the last hurrah of the AoA but he had other obligations.

Faze: Ah. He was still too exhausted from carrying the group, I see?

Faze pauses and looks at Triple P, waiting for Paras to move… to do anything. He winks at him, as if to give him a signal to attack, but Paul just stands there.

Paras: Let me help you with that perfectly perplexed look on your face Faze. Everyone can see that you are standing there, waiting for me to attack my good friend Christopher America, but it isn’t going to happen! Nobody tells the “Perfect One” what to do! I do whatever I want, when I want…. and right now, I feel like…

Without missing a beat Triple P drops his microphone and swings his kendo stick against the bad knee of the Mayhem General Manager. Faze grabs his knee in pain and hops up and down on his other leg as Paras strikes him again with the stick, this time right over the head. Faze writhes on the ground in pain as Mario walks up with the 2×4 and slams it down on the knee of Faze two times for good measure. Triple P and Triple M grab Faze by his arms and lift him to hold him still as Christopher America holds the American Flag chair high into the air as the crowd erupts with cheers. America draws the chair back and then hits a home run off of Faze’s skull, forcing him to go limp in the arms of Perfectly Marvelous.

Joe Hoffman: The Argonauts of Awesome are destroying Ryan Faze!

Benny Newell: Someone get Shane Reynolds out here! This is fucking bullshit!

Without saying a word Triple P looks at Mario and winks as the duo follows up with their Twin City Destroyer (Reverse Russian Leg Sweep/flatliner) finisher on the steel stage!

Christopher America places the cardboard cut out of John Sektor on top of Faze and then drops down to make the count with the crowd chanting along.

Crowd: 1…

Crowd: 2…

Crowd: 3!!!!

With Faze out cold, the three members of the AoA exchange handshakes and raise each others’ arms into the air for one last hurrah together as a group before “Marvelous” Mario Maurako and “Perfect” Paul Paras give America a pat on the shoulder and exit the stage. As wave off to the crowd, America walks over to the fallen General Manager and stands over him, smirking with glee until his theme music, “Remember the Name,” kicks in over the speakers.

Benny Newell: Wait a second… Faze was supposed to ref this next match!

Joe Hoffman: And the night just keeps on getting crazier!

 

Shane Reynolds vs. Christopher America
Falls Count Anywhere Match

Bryan McVay: Ladies and gentlemen… it is now time for your MAIN EVENT! This match will be contested as a Falls Count Anywhere match. Introducing first, from the United States of America, weighing 235 pounds… CHRISTOPHER AMERICA!!!

The crowd roars with cheers for the former LSD and Stable champion as he heads down the ramp towards the collapsed ring. Senior Referee Matt Boettcher appears, almost out of nowhere and surveys the damage to the ring. Christopher America approaches him and is informed that it’s too dangerous to compete inside the ring, and that the match will start on the outside.

Then Shinedown’s “Sin With a Grin” drowns out America’s theme and Shane Reynolds emerges, looking none too pleased at what happened to Ryan Faze. At the top of the entrance ramp, he shoves away and shouts at the medics that are attending to the General Manager and leans down to check on him, only to find that he’s not responding.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, from Boston, Massachussets, he is the High Octane Wrestling ICON champion… SHANE REYNOLDS!!!

Joe Hoffman: You’ve got to hand it to the AoA, Benny. Ryan Faze devised a master plan to “punish” Christopher America for becoming the number one contender to the LSD title and the Argonauts sniffed it out from a mile away. They might not be together anymore, but they sure looked good in dispatching our General Manager.

Benny Newell: You’d better watch what you say Joe. We might be moving to Turmoil but Faze can still pull some rank around here ya know. And besides, Faze might be out cold at the moment, but as soon as he wakes up, there’s going to be some hell to pay! Besides, if earlier was any indication of Shane Reynolds’ state of mind, I would NOT want to be the guy that pisses him off.

Joe Hoffman: Well it appears that Christopher America has done a good job of that… oh my, LOOKOUT!

Shane Reynolds charges down the entrance ramp and guns straight for Christopher America, who high-tails his way around the opposite side of the ring. Shane stops himself and laughs on the opposing side, urging Christopher America to ‘face him like a man.’ With his American Steel Chair still at ringside, Christopher carefully approaches Shane Reynolds until they get closer… closer… closer… and he SWINGS…

only for Shane Reynolds to duck the chair shot and boot America in the gut.

DING ~ DING ~ DING!

America doubles over, dropping the steel chair and Shane pounds him to the canvas outside of the ring with an Impact DDT that has the crowd booing. Reeling in pain, America uses Shane himself to stand back up and is met with a fist to the face for his efforts. Another punch seemingly awakens the “National Treasure” and America fights back with American right hands of his own. Shane and Chris trade blows back and forth until finally, America grabs Reynolds by the back of his head and slams him head-first into the steel guard rail. America tosses a writhing Shane Reynolds over the rail and into the crowd and motions for the fans to get out of the way. The ringside security team desperately tries to do the same to ensure the safety of the fans, but Reynolds brawls back without concern for them.

Joe Hoffman: Someone’s gonna get hurt out there!

Matt Boettcher does his best to control the action and lead the two superstars to an area of clearing, but to no avail as Shane Reynolds wields a chair that misses America and strikes a young fan in his early teens, right in the face! America is in disbelief as the fan topples to the ground but a relentless, unforgiving, and uncaring Shane Reynolds simply swings again, connecting with the back of Christopher’s American head.

Benny Newell: Shane Reynolds is a mad man! Ha ha! I love it!

Joe Hoffman: You seriously have no regard for anybody but yourself, don’t you Benny? An innocent fan just got leveled because of Shane Reynolds and you could care less!

Benny Newell: Well I wouldn’t say I don’t care about anybody… I mean, there is Lee… my good buddy Jack here…

Frustrated with his broadcast partner, Joe reverts back to calling the action and points out that America has been busted open in the back of his head. Like a vampire longing for blood, Shane tosses the chair aside and lunges at America with a Flying Clothesline, taking out some more fans in the process.

Joe Hoffman: Get them out of there Matt!

After several moments of recuperation, Boettcher is finally able to lead the superstars up a set of stairs and into the concession area, where many fans are shocked and surprised to see America and Shane Reynolds brawling. Shane smacks America’s head against the arena wall before leading him out the doors to the Best Arena to the streets of Downtown Chicago.

Joe Hoffman: This match has turned into a Falls Count Anywhere Street Fight!

Benny Newell: And from the looks of it, it doesn’t look like Faze will be back anytime soon as they are loading him onto a stretcher for the ambulance waiting outside.

Joe Hoffman: Two people carried off on stretchers in one night, Buff? One of whom is presumably dead!?!

Benny Newell: I told you! That Historian was worthless anyways… but Faze! Get him stitched up and quick! Do something! He needs to ref this match!

Joe Hoffman: I don’t know, Benny. From the looks of it, Faze is going to need more than stitches in my opinion.

Outside, Shane still has the upper hand on Christopher America until America lifts an American knee into the midsection of the ICON champion. You can see the wind escape Shane’s lungs as he stops dead in his tracks and is met with an American Bulldog, right into the cement pavement! America scrambles for the cover and drapes his arm over Shane Reynolds.

1…

2…

Joe Hoffman: Kickout by Shane! Remember folks, pin falls and submissions can be counted anywhere in this match as just evidenced by Christopher America.

Referee Matt Boettcher briefly reassures America that his count was indeed for 2 after some argument until Shane interrupts them both with an elbow shot to Chris’s American temple. Blinded and temporarily stunned, Christopher America fails to realize what’s coming next:

Benny Newell: RUNNING NECKBREAKER!

Joe Hoffman: Followed by a Somersault Leg Drop!

Benny Newell: That has GOT to hurt America lying there on the cement. I’ll drink to that… get ‘em Shane!

This time, it’s Shane Reynolds with the cover as he motions for Boettcher to count pin.

1…

2…

America gets the shoulder up, which prompts the ICON champion get in Boettcher’s face.

Joe Hoffman: No quick counts here, Shane, as I’ve just been given word that Ryan Faze is being transported away to attend to his knee that has been re-injured again by the Argonauts of Awesome.

Benny Newell: Faze should just get that thing amputated for fuck’s sake.

Meanwhile, with time to regroup thanks to Shane’s incessant arguing, Christopher America blasts the ICON champion from behind with an American Super Kick that sends Reynolds flying forward into a street lamp post. A deafening THUD is heard from the impact of Shane’s shoulder hitting the steel and America follows through with an American Suplex on the pavement.

Benny Newell & Joe Hoffman: OOOOOOOH!

Joe Hoffman: What impact!

Seeing this as an opportunity to capitalize, America goes for the American Nightmare (Brock Lock) submission finisher and locks it in the middle of the street outside of the Best Arena! That is until sirens flare loudly nearby as what can only be Ryan Faze’s ambulance comes out of nowhere! America notices this, as does Shane and America is forced to release the hold. He and Shane Reynolds NARROWLY avoid true disaster as the ambulance whizzes past them, avoiding them within inches!

Joe Hoffman: By God! Shane Reynolds and Christopher America could have been killed!

Benny Newell: More importantly, America was forced to break the submission in what could have been the end for Shane Reynolds.

Exhausting a deep sigh of relief, Shane Reynolds turns around to face his opponent, but when he sees America charging at him, ducks and plants Chris with a Drop Toe Hold. America and Shane pop to their feet with ease, America holding his nose, and Shane follows through with a Hurracanrana into a cover!

1…

2…

Joe Hoffman: HE’S GOT HIM, NOOO!!

America powers out at the last second and it’s clear that wrestling outside on the pavement is taking it’s toll on the two superstars. Shane Reynolds and Christopher America both sprawl their way over to the nearby curb and attempt to be the first to plant each other’s face into it, but both block the attempt. Shane rises to his feet and kicks America in the face, only for Christopher to catch it but get planted anyways with an Enzuguiri!

Benny Newell: Shane’s got the cover!

1…

2…

Joe Hoffman: America reverses with a small package!

1…

2…

Benny Newell: Shane re-reverses into his own small package!

1…

2…

Joe Hoffman: KICKOUT! AMERICA KICKED OUT!

Cheers can be heard inside the Best Arena as the tension rises and both men push away from each other, desperately trying to catch one’s breath as the exhaustion builds. America uses all of his might and energy to fight his way back to the Arena doors but Shane stops him short by grabbing him by the leg. America kicks him away though and opens the door to the Best Arena to find General Manager Ryan Faze waiting with one of his steel crutches!

Benny Newell: HOLY SHIT! IT’S FAZE!

Joe Hoffman: But I thought…

Benny Newell: So did I… LOOKOUT!

With Shane Reynolds hot on the tail of Christopher America, Faze swings at the face of Christopher America, only for him to duck and nail Shane Reynolds instead! Clenching his knee in extreme agony, Faze falls weakly to the ground at the same time as Shane does from the crutch shot to the face!

Benny Newell: OH NO! GET UP SHANE! SOMEONE HELP FAZE! OH GOD…

Faze’s screams can be heard throughout the arena as most likely, he used whatever strength he had left in the knee, if he even had any to begin with from the brutal AoA attack, to try and level America. With Mayhem’s General Manager rolling around in pain, America comes to his senses as to what has happened and finds Shane Reynolds extremely dazed, but still stirring on his knees. America assists the ICON champion to his feet and places him in an Inverted Facelock. In unison with the fans, Christopher shouts “FOR AMERICA!” and plants Reynolds with the Hero’s Welcome cutter finisher!!

Benny Newell: FUCK! THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!

Joe Hoffman: BY GOD, BUT IT IS…

1…

2…

3!!!!

DING ~ DING ~ DING!

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner… CHRISTOPHER AMERICA!!!

The fans ERUPT at the announcement, so much so that the arena walls seem to shake after the bout that ended after 16 minutes and 59 seconds. Christopher America can barely believe it himself as Matt Boettcher raises his arm and Faze looks on in disgust, clenching his knee as if his life depended on it.

Joe Hoffman: What an upset to say the least! Benny… I don’t even know what to say! It’s our final broadcast on Mayhem and I can honestly say I’m speechless!

Benny Newell: Well not me… as I have something to tell Christopher America and the Argonauts of Awesome. FUCK YOU! Fuck all 3 of you bastards! I’ll see you all in hell…

Joe Hoffman: And on that note, folks… we’re out of time here on Mayhem! Quickly, I’d just like to take a moment to thank all the Mayhem fans that have tuned into us all these years…

Benny Newell: You make me sick Joe… just end the goddam show! It’s not like we’re leaving HOW completely…

Joe Hoffman: Good night everybody! We’ll see ya’ on Turmoil!

The final image of the night has fans cheering as they surround Christopher America, who stands pridefully victorious in the concession area over the blind-sided Shane Reynolds, with a furious Ryan Faze in the background being carted off by medics as Mayhem comes to an end.

END OF TRANSMISSION

 

BONUS A

Few minutes later…

The camera is zoomed into what appears to be a mundane looking drain in a shower somewhere in the backstage area. Suddenly a long pair of silvery tweezers appear, sliding into the hole where they snag onto something. As the tweezers pull back out it can be seen that a small metal mesh has been retrieved with a clumb of hair, clearly from several different people. Turning it over with the pair of tweezers, a second, smaller pair of tweezers appears, tugging a few long, dark strands.

Zooming out the tweezers appear attached to hands which have white sanitary gloves over them. The gloves lead to arms which are covered in a black suit. At last at full pan out, Maximillian Kael, in his street clothing with his face still heavily bandaged up. On the end of his bandaged nose sit a pair of reading glasses as he examined the ball of hair carefully.

Max Kael..Ah-HA!

He slowly continued too pull out several long black strains of hair as the white teeth beneath his bandages revealed a disturbing smile.

Max Kael..it’s not tuff of curly Bob Jared Man Hair.. but..

Setting a few of the strands of long black hair he was pulling free of the ball into a plastic bag near him, he paused. Dangling one strange of the black hair in front of his face he sniffed it. His eyes twitched and narrowed as he examined it more closely before his tongue lashed out, snaking the long hair away under the bandages like a piece of dirty pasta.

Max Kael..mmhmm. 100% Emo Shane Reynolds… heh-heh..

Hissing his chuckle under his breath he tossed the rest of hte hair away as he lifted the bag with the few precious samplings of Shane’s hair.

Max Kael This with what we managed to liberate from the hair brush should be more then enough.. for now… heh-hah! Ha!

His discordian laugh grumbled from his gut and echoed in the bathroom as he pulled a second plastic bag out from his pocket which contained much dryer strands of black hair which he apparently stole from a hair brush as we fade out on the disturbing scene.

 

BONUS B

Several Minutes later…

Christopher America, showered, fully cleaned up, and fresh off his upset victory over Shane Reynolds walks towards the arena exit with his duffel bag hanging on his shoulder and a towel around his neck. About 20 feet from the exit he receives a call. He looks at the LED display and gives the number on the display a perplexed look. He flips open the phone.

Christopher America: Hello?

A what? A talent agency?

Me?!?

Christopher stops walking and smirks.

Christopher America: You guarantee that?

When?

Next week?

Absolutely.

Consider Christopher America the first major talent that you’ve just signed to your talent agency.

Christopher America closes his cell phone with a shrug and a smile before exiting the arena…..

Show Details

The Best Arena

Chicago, Illinois

Show times

  • 9:00PM
x