Turmoil: June 17th, 2010 (2010)

Weekly Show | 120 Min
Rating:
6/10
6

Show Transcript

Thursday Night Turmoil
June 17th, 2010 – #HOW121
Kallisten Coliseum, Chicago, IL

 

Oh Say Can You See…

The crowd jumps from their seats and roars as a record scratch cuts from the American National Anthem and then flows directly into Fort Minor’s “Remember The Name.”

Brian McVay: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the winner of War Games 2010 and….. YOUR NEWWWW HOW WORLD CHAMPION…….. CHRISTOPHERRRRR AMERRRRRIIIIIIICAAAAA!

Christopher America steps out from behind the curtain in a black suit and red dress shirt, the World Title nowhere to be found. Christopher stops at the top of the ramp and smiles. He forms a gun with both hands and points to the crowd. He then joins the thumbs and index fingers making an “A” above his head. As he does, red, white, and blue pyros rain down upon him.

Christopher relaxes his pose and starts to walk down the ramp. Midway he stops, holds up his finger and then taps his head, smiling and nodding, knowing what the crowd wants. He then undoes his suit jacket and reveals the HOW World Championship underneath. Christopher undoes the belt from his waist and tosses it over his shoulder.

Joe Hoffman: This is it, Benny. This is the culmination of Christopher America’s 18 month long journey to the World Championship. Already an LSD Champion, a 2 time Stable Champion, and a 2 time HOFC Champion, Christopher can now add the World Championship to his resume.

Benny Newell: I’m just thankful America did the RIGHT thing and fought for Team Best, putting the nail in the coffin of Aceldama… literally!

Joe Hoffman: It was a brutal War Games, no doubt about it. As a result, America earned his first World Championship, Graystone became ICON Champion again, and Shane Reynolds entered HOW history as a Grand Slam Champion, earning the LSD Championship.

Benny Newell: How fitting that the emo won the title that allows him to wrestle in matches that give him access to blades and other sharp objects to cut himself with.

Christopher enters the ring and asks for a microphone. The crowd begins to settle as Christopher smiles and holds up his hand.

Christopher: I’d like…..

Crowd: USA! USA! USA! USA! USA!

Christopher: You have no idea how great it is to hear that. I’d like to do something that hasn’t been done in HOW since I’ve been apart of this federation. It’s something Aceldama has never done, something Jatt Starr hasn’t done since his return, and something I’m sure Graystone would never do.

I’d like to thank you all,

So…..

THANK YOU.

Christopher pauses and looks into the audience with seriousness and sincerity trying to make as much individual eye contact with each fan as possible.

Christopher: I began my career in HOW back in January of 2009. Since then, I’ve had to scrape and claw my way up HOW’s mountain. I’ve enjoyed much success and I owe that to all of you.

Crowd: THANK YOU, CHRIS! THANK YOU, CHRIS! THANK YOU, CHRIS!

Christopher: There are also many others that I must thank. I have to thank Scottywood, Michael Denucci, and Mike Best. I beat each of these men for a championship. Each of these men brought a different style to the ring and through them, I was able to adapt and evolve. I changed my game and made myself better because of it.

I’d like to thank my parents who allowed me to pursue this dream. They allowed me the opportunity to fail. And I know that sounds odd, but allowing someone the opportunity to fail provides them with a hunger and drive to succeed.

I’d like to thank all of the men who participated in War Games with me. Please do not misunderstand me when I say this: I am here because of you, too. You showed me what World Championship material looks like. You’ve set the bar for me and I will try with all of my being to measure up and exceed your expectations.

Christopher pauses, still unbelieving that after so long, he is finally delivering a speech like this.

Christopher: I’d like to address both my critics and the people who say that this is long overdue. You are both wrong. To my critics who say that I did not earn this, that I am a paper champion — someone who got lucky and is now holding the championship until someone like Jatt Starr, Max Kael, or Graystone come around looking to reclaim the championship. It was not luck that allowed me to pin Shane Reynolds. It is not luck that allowed me to pin Graystone at War Games 2009 and then make him submit at War Games 2010. It was through skill, determination, and HEART that allowed me to succeed. I am not a paper champion. In fact, to use the term at all is an insult to every… single… wrestler to ever hold this championship. Someone once told me that it doesn’t matter if you hold the championship for 24 years or 24 hours — that good title reigns weren’t measured in days, but rather in how the champion performed. And I intend to perform with honor, dignity, and integrity.

To the people who say that this is long overdue, I disagree. This was the right time. This was the time for me to become the wrestler that you, the fans, and I, knew that I could become. While the sentiment is nice, it assumes that I was always ready for the World Championship and I was not. I’ve had my problems: losing to Bob Jared, becoming a slave to Ethan Cavanaugh, and even being forced to leave the federation against my will.

But this moment…. this exact moment…. is proof that I have come far…. and I believe…. I still have a long way to go. You know, people said that the burden of carrying the World Championship was great.

Christopher shakes his head.

Christopher: They lied. By sharing this championship with you, we all share the burden and in my eyes, we’re all champions.

Once again, from the bottom of my heart, Thank you.

As we see a final parting shot of the Champion waving to his fans we cut backstage…

 

The Best Way to Move Forward

The camera cuts backstage, live into the office of HOW Owner and recent coma-survivor Lee M. Best. The cushy office is much neater than usual, probably due to being empty for the last three or so weeks, but nonetheless bears the weight of a thousand blowjobs and the stains to match. The strangest inconsistency within the scenery is the lack of it’s protagonist– Lee is nowhere to be seen. In his stead, the First Bastard Son of HOW, Michael Best, stands alone in the office, bantering away mindlessly into his cell phone. He’s dressed up, much like during his stranger-than-fiction press conference just days before, in a pair of black slacks with a black dress shirt, the customary red tie clashing brightly with the dark outfit.

Mike Best: –this is bullshit. Someone needs to find him.

He listens for a moment, irritation coming over his face and causing his eyebrows to furrow beneath the weight of his stress.

Mike Best: WELL KEEP FUCKING LOOKING! A multi-millionaire doesn’t just disappear inside his own fucking arena! Don’t you think I have more important things to do tonight than stand here and hold your hand, while you look for my father? He could be being injured! He could be being raped! He could be pinning White Mamba in the fucking boiler room! JUST LOOK FOR– hold on, he’s beeping in.

The former ICON Champion holds the phone away from his head for a moment, checking the screen and hitting the button to switch calls.

Mike Best: Dad? Dad, where are you? We’ve been looking for you for like, forty five minutes. Are you okay? Oh you’re… you’re where?

Continuing to talk to his father, Michael rushes to the door and twists the knob, swinging it wildly open to run off to find him. As he does, he stumbles directly into the man standing in the doorway in front of him, also holding a cell phone. The duo practically topple each other over, as each look at the other with widened eyes.

Lee Best: –I said I think I’m right outside my office.

The owner of HOW steps over the body of his confused, fallen bastard child. Almost tripping over the bulk of the former champion, Lee Best saunters into his office as if he’s never seen it before, gazing at the various wall hangings and cheesy decorations lining the room. Mike stands up off the floor, brushing the dust off his trousers as he shakes his head at his father, putting an arm around him concerned.

Mike Best: Jesus Christ, dad, how long have you been standing out there?

Lee continues to look around, in a world practically all of his own. After a moment, he seems to react to the question finally, turning to face his son.

Lee Best: I’m not even hungry. Look, we have to get down to business.

Mike Best: Uh, alright dad– look, maybe you should have a seat.

Lee Best: No, no. No, I think I’ll be– no, I’m fine. Look kid, I never loved your mother. Never even for a second. I busted a nut all over her– well, you don’t wanna know that. No, you wouldn’t. But I did it, and if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have you here today. Here today to sit in this beautiful office, with these handcrafted leather chairs– you know, that shit doesn’t come cheap. You have to import it from–

Mike Best: Dad? To the point?

Lee Best: Oh, yes. Of course. To the point. Son, I’m proud of you. I’m very proud of you. And you know something?

Lee raises a finger in the air, his voice almost as far away as his eyes. Both men are silent for a moment, before Mike begins to shake his father slightly by the shoulder.

Mike Best: Yeah, dad?

Lee Best: I’m proud of you. Like a father should be of his son. And I know that you lost your ICON Title at War Games– I’m not really proud of that– but you got the ever living shit kicked out of you and I respect that. I admire that. It was like a bonding experience– you got the Jesus beaten out of you once and for all, and I– uh. I.

Mike Best: You what?

Lee Best: I GOT FUCKING POWERBOMBED OFF AN AIRCRAFT CARRIER YOU PRETENTIOUS LITTLE SHIT! I OUGHTA PUT YOU OVER MY FUCKING KNEE RIGHT HERE AND NOW! YOU WILL RE–

The owner of HOW stops himself, mid rant, backing away from his son and plopping down onto the floor, crossing his legs Indian style.

Lee Best: I think I ought to sit down. Look, Mike– I need you to do something for me. Something very important, that I’d never trust anyone else to do, ever, okay? I’m not going to ask you to let me give you mouth sex– I know that’s what it sounds like, but I’m not. So fuck you for thinking that, you little homo. Just like your fucking uncle. That fucker got what was coming to him– your motherfucking uncle with a semen drainpipe for an asshole. Not that I had anything to do with– I mean it’s all just allegations. DeNucci’s a fucking liar if he told you anything different, you understand that? Where the fuck is he anyway, cause I’ll fucking tear his eyes out if he’s been telling people fucking lies– DENUCCI! YOU FUCKING COWARD! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU HI–

Mike Best: DAD! Focus, alright? DeNucci doesn’t work here anymore. Just tell me what you need me to do.

Lee Best: I need you to– I need you to run High Octane Wrestling.


To Avoid Spoilers the new HOR will be posted after Turmoil…

John Eric Peter Watson vs. Static
Singles Matches

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back folks and I am not buying Lee allowing ANYONE to run HOW but himself…..but I digress…and well we are now ready now ready for the first match of the night featuring James Eric Peter Watson taking on Static, with both men already in the ring ready.

Benny Newell: What you are not going to let me respond to that ..fine…Mike will run the company fine….and as far as the match goes…Static may have beat Flawless, but tonight that the JEW is going to destroy him.

We see Hortega signaling for the bell as JEPW and Static lock up and JEPW quick takes advantage with a knee to the gut and an European uppercut followed by a spinebuster which rattles the floor as a cheer can be heard from the Chicago faithful as JEPW drops an elbow.

Joe Hoffman: Seems the fans are taking pleasure in Static pain, even if it by the hand of Watson.

Benny Newell: I’ll take pleasure when Jew boy breaks Static’s neck.

Static stumbles back up to his feet as Watson whips Static into the corner and connects with a big clothesline as Static falls to the ground and JEPW starts drilling his boot into him repeatedly as Static lays on the floor. JEPW pulls Static out of the corner a bit as he starts to ascend the turnbuckle.

Joe Hoffman: Static in a bad place here as JEPW starts to climb the ropes.

Benny Newell: Crush his nuts!

We see JEPW jump off the top rope quickly and with both feet together he comes down hard on the crotch of Static as referee Joel Hortega cringes and looks away as Static screams in pain and the crowd gasps.

Joe Hoffman: He crushed his nuts!!

Benny Newell: Hahaha, yes!

JEPW wastes little time in hooking the leg of Static as he goes for a cover on the “Human Wrecked Balls” Static.

Uno…..

Dos……

Tres……

Hortega calls for the bell as Static just lays on the mat clutching his lower regions as we see a HOW medic slide into the ring to attend to Static.

Joe Hoffman: Well Watson continues his winning streak and Static may now never be able to reproduce.

Benny Newell: And that is a bad thing? We certainly don’t need more Statics running around this world.

Joe Hoffman: I guess that is something we can both agree with, so on that rare note let’s head backstage as we prepare for Mark O’Neal and Crow which is coming up next.

Official Introduction

No sooner has the dust settled in the wake of the opening match, when suddenly “Undead” by Hollywood Undead blasts over the sound system of the Kallisten Coliseum, bringing with it the usual screaming obscenities and raucous boos that generally accompany the owner of HOW to the ring. However, it is not Lee Best who steps out of the entrance way first, but second-in-command to the most notorious man in professional wrestling– his son, Michael Best. He holds in his hand a folded piece of paper, clenched in his fist like it’s made of diamonds. The former ICON Champion takes a few steps out onto the metal rampway, before turning around and realizing that his father is no longer with him.

Joe Hoffman: Well ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we’re about to get some official clarification about the backstage scene we just witnessed near the beginning of tonight’s show. Is Michael Best indeed going to be taking over the day to day operations at High Octane Wrestling? Though it would be appear he’s having some kind of trouble…

Benny Newell: The only thing better than one Best running HOW is two! It’s like the Best of both worlds! Ha ha! Drink fucker!

The still battered looking Mike Best backtracks a few steps, reaching behind the curtain at the entrance way and giving a slight tug at his father’s suit jacket. Slowly but surely, Lee Best makes his way out from the back as well, being led carefully toward the ramp by his only son. As the devious duo begin their decline down the ramp, Lee stops suddenly, whispering something to the younger Best which causes him to nod his head and cease the trek forward.

Lee Best looks around in half of a haze, staring out at the crowd around him with fascination in his eyes. Without warning, he plops down onto the metal ramp and takes a seat, resting back on his elbows and closing his eyes for a moment. His son has a brief conversation with a technician near the entrance ramp, securing himself a microphone and opting to just speak from where Lee has chosen to sit down.

Mike Best: This is where you want to do this from?

Michael asks this almost as if he’s addressing a child, but instead of seeming offended, Lee simply nods his head and looks up at his son with anticipation in his eyes. The crowd should probably be laughing, but the sight is almost too strange to completely understand. As Mike raises the microphone to his mouth, there is a small yet fierce cheering from the crowd, most likely the result of his powerful address just several days ago to the media at large. The alleged union-master of High Octane Wrestling lets a little smile form at the corner of his lips, as he pauses to wait for the cheering to subside.

Mike Best: Thank you everyone. Sincerely, I’d like to offer up my gratitude for your enthusiasm toward the betterment of High Octane Entertainment. The Reinhardt Foundation has received a plethora of donations thus far, with numbers ranging into the thousands– not to mention to outstanding support I’ve received from local media and fans in creating a newer, fairer system of checks and balances for High Octane Wrestling. It warms my heart to see the outpouring of emotion, and the overwhelming support.

There is another cheer, this one from an even heavier majority of the crowd. Lee Best in particular looks confused, as he stares up at his son with his eyes focused mostly on the lips, as if he’s not sure he’s hearing correctly. There is a brief exchange of words, away from the microphone, between the two men, with Lee seeming unusually upset in his mostly calm seated position. After a moment, though, his son has successfully calmed him down.

Mike Best: And as much as I appreciate that support, and I really do mean to thank you all from the bottom of my heart– well, it seems that a lot has changed over the course of the last few days.

The cheering abruptly stops. Mike’s smile, however, doesn’t fade, in the slightest.

Mike Best: See, the overarching goal of the Chicago Association for Grappler’s Equality was to ensure that the right power was in the hands of the right people within High Octane Entertainment. It was a system of checks and balances– a gateway toward securing a brighter future toward High Octane Wrestling and it’s employees. With my father otherwise incapacitated, the HOW Board of Directors would have run his company into the ground, jeopardizing not only the financial well being of HOW, but also the well being of it’s wrestlers and staff. However, two days ago, my father miraculously came to in his hospital bed– the doctors did not think it possible, of course, but I suppose us Best men have a knack for surviving the unsurvivable.

A strong “KOSTOFF! KOSTOFF!” cheer comes up within the crowd, which brings a look of practical terror over the face of HOW owner Lee Best. He turns to his son, fear in his eyes as Mike does the best that he can to ensure Lee that everything is alright.

Mike Best: I can assure you all that Chris Kostoff is not in the building tonight, ladies and gentlemen. Sorry to ruin that for you. But every cloud does have a silver lining, because as you can see, my FATHER is alive and well, and in sound mind and body has returned to his active duty as the owner and operator of High Octane Wrestling!

He gestures down at Lee, who is at current staring at the ramp below him and grumbling under his breath. The crowd’s cheers turn to boos, unsurprisingly, but luckily Lee is altogether too distracted to take notice.

Mike Best: Since the entire purpose in filing my injunction with the HOW Board of Directors was to ensure that business was handled properly in my father’s stead, it would appear that I can repeal that particular cease and desist order– dad’s back, and HOW stands firm with it’s right foot forward. But that’s not the end of the good news! The best is yet to come, folks, in quite a literal sense. See, my father has confided in me that he has some… affairs… to put in order. And in his first official act in his returning role as owner of the company, and in preparation of his upcoming absence from the company, he has appointed his only son– that of course being one Michael Best– to operate the day to day business of High Octane Wrestling!

He holds the piece of paper in his hand up high, the camera zooming in to reveal that it is indeed a contract of some kind. The crowd still appears to be behind the former ICON Champion, both a smattering of cheers and boos emanating from all over the arena as he smiles, folding the paper and tucking it into his back pocket.

Mike Best: That’s right, ladies and gentlemen– I will be taking over for my father, at least temporarily. I know that all of you in attendance tonight can understand the importance of putting a man of my caliber in charge– you heard my speech, and you understand the goals I have for High Octane Wrestling. However, there are many back behind this curtain who would doubt my qualifications for such a role. They might attempt to undermine that authority, perhaps attempting to overthrow me in the way that I so nobly attempted to oust the vile Board of Directors from their perch. I can assure you all that the right power is officially in the right hands, and I will act in accordance with all of my father’s wishes while I reside in this position– that being said, my first official act as HOW’s presiding President is to do what I know my father has always wanted done– I am officially BANNING unionization in High Octane Wrestling!

That about does it. Any cheering left in the building throws itself out a thirty story window, landing with a messy splat into rush hour traffic. The crowd begins to boo, starting faintly at first but eventually becoming a thunderous ovation, as slowly those in attendance begin to realize that they have once again been had by the former “ChristPlow”. Standing on the ramp, Mike Best’s smile becomes slightly crooked, like a shady used car salesman’s.

Mike Best: Power is officially where it belongs, and where it will always belong– not in the hands of a majority of unintelligent, agenda driven idiots forming a picket line outside the Kallisten Coliseum, or in the greedy, money grubbing hands of a tyrannical Board of Directors, but in the hands of The Best Family, the only family in professional wrestling that really matters. I can understand your concern, ladies and gentlemen– believe me, I understand how disheartening it must be to get your hopes up for a change– but you can’t expect someone like myself to lead both a wrestling company AND it’s union! It would be a sharp conflict in interest, and how fair would that be to either side of the negotiations? And who else but me would be CAPABLE of leading such a targeted, intelligent attack on the corporate masses? Would you have White Mamba take the reins? Or a monstrous idiot like Chris Kostoff?

At the mention of Kostoff, the crowd once again goes ballistic, cheering for the Hall of Famer who made an appearance at War Games. Lee scoots backward a few feet, whipping his head around to ensure that the monster is pretty much no where near him. The younger, equally evil Best pats his head gently, consoling him.

Mike Best: How dare you! How dare you stand in my arena and degrade my father like that! He has worked his ass off to make High Octane Wrestling the largest wrestling company in the fucking WORLD, and you would cheer a monster who does nothing but inflict pain and suffering upon our family? This is why a man like me needs to be in charge. This is why a man like me is the BEST man for the job– pun completely intended. I’m the only man cut out for making the changes that need to be made in this industry, and you can bet that from now on things ARE going to change–

He looks down at his father, swallowing as he revels in the pain of seeing him so distraught.

Mike Best: –beginning right here tonight.

Michael helps his father up off the ramp, putting an arm around the owner of HOW as the duo turn to walk back up the ramp. “Undead” begins to play again over the speakers.

Joe Hoffman: You know, for just ONE SECOND I really thought maybe Michael Best had taken a turn for the better. This is absolutely disgusting, he has completely sold out the last of his soul.

Benny Newell: A turn for the better? Seems like a turn for the BEST to me, Joe. And I’d watch how you talk about our new President, or you might just find yourself out of a fucking JOB!

Michael raises Lee’s hand in the air at the top of the ramp, practically basking in the hatred. Best helps his father behind the curtain, disappearing from the crowd as they spew jeers and insults at the pair.

Ebony and Ivory

We cut backstage to James ‘White Mamba’ Ranger’s dressing room, inside which there is almost nothing in the way of decoration; just a chair, a single mirror and some folded clothes sat in the corner. With the occupant being fired or suspended every other week, there hardly seems a point in trying to make it either comfortable or homely.

In the centre of the concrete floor, Ranger is completing a set of one-armed press-ups when there is a knock at the door. He grunts to himself, catches his breath and hops to his feet.

“Yeah?”

The door slowly swings open, revealing a delightedly cheesy set of teeth and a mop of floppy black hair. John Eric Peter Watson, already changed into a formal black suit after his victory, steps into Ranger’s room. He has a portable, miniature keyboard in his hand.

“Black Mamba, lovely, lovely, the pleasure’s all mine of course. How are you? Are you reading any books at the moment?” Watson looks around the empty room, then at Ranger, whose irritation is becoming visible.

“It’s White Mamba. Did you not see War Games? I’m white now.”

Watson juts his chin back, looks Ranger up and down. He reaches his free hand out and pinches at the black flesh.

“Mm. No. You’re still black as night.”

Shoving Watson’s hand away: “But I have to be White Mamba now, by contract.”

But Watson is having none of it. He lifts the keyboard up to Mamba’s face, as if showing off a toy to a tiny child. “Do you know what this is?”

“It’s a keyboard. And you’re a pri-”

“Did you know that Bach once said that the difference between the white keys and the black keys is the most important lesson one can ever learn in one’s life? Together, they make a wonderful sound, but it is the difference between them which provides the wonder, provides the splendour of the world.”

“That’s just about the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

“No, seriously – listen.” And Watson begins to play a low black key, followed by a high white key, slowly guiding Ranger through the difference. “black WHITE black WHITE black WHITE – am I going too quickly here? – black WHITE bla-”

In a flash of anger, Ranger swipes the instrument out of Watson’s grasp, sending it crashing to the floor. A cacophony of keys, both white and black, ends up spewed across the ground.

“That was the wrong thing to do,” says a suddenly serious Watson, “but I forgive you. I forgive you because I know how angry you are, how miserable you are, how oppressed you are!”

“Why are you even here?”

“Get your brain in order Black Mamba! I’m here to relieve oppression, to destroy the one-man slave trade that HOW is forcing you to become. Tell me, do you sing Gospel songs whilst you’re working out?”

Ranger steps forward. “You’re beginning to cross the line.”

“HOW is a company full of bullies and cowards, racists and sexists, bigots and ignorant fools. You know how many times you are referred to as ‘the Niglet?’ You know how often HOW looks to make ratings out of the fact that you’re our only black man? You know how much shit you get for being the magnificent colour that you are? You think Rosa Parks stayed sitting down on that bus so that you could get pulverised for being black every week, live on television and Pay Per View? You think when Martin Luther King had a dream, he dreamt of black men having to delude themselves into thinking they’re white, just to stay in a job? I’ll tell you what -” Watson spits on the floor – “it makes an educated, warm-hearted man like me utterly sick. We must abolish the slave trade all over again if we are ever to make HOW a fair and respectable place to work.”

Ranger takes a step back, half smiling to himself. “I can deal with racism by myself thank you. I don’t need a crusader, especially not some white middle-class university yuppy like yourself. Now, if you don’t mind, you’re wasting my time and I have a match to prepare for -”

“No. No. Black man, stop right there. You can’t fight Carmen Jennings tonight.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you and her are just the same. The doldrums of HOW, the dirt at the bottom of the can, the slops at the bottom of the bucket. What, you think it’s a coincidence that when you look at the worst-treated people in the company, all you see is a black and a woman? Nobody talks about you two in terms which don’t relate to either skin pigment or vaginas. You don’t have to take that. You are two human beings! What kind of example does HOW set for the youth of the nation, what kind of reputation does HOW give the city of Chicago, when it denies the very humanity of its most vulnerable workers?”

Ranger has had enough. He grips Watson by the throat and shoves him out of the door and onto the floor. Watson jumps to his feet. “But I brought you a book to read!” He pulls out The Autobiography of Malcolm X, but the door has already been shut and locked.

JEPW sighs, shaking his head. The look of determination does not leave his face.


Is the big man returning full time?

Mark “The Explosive” O’Neal vs. Crow
Singles Match with Special Guest Referee Scottywood

Returning back from commercial break we see “The Hardcore Artist” Scottywood standing in the middle of the ring with his authentic NHL referee jersey on with Crow and mark O’Neal standing in their perspective corners.

Joe Hoffman: Folks for those of you who weren’t live on the HOR last night it was revealed that the Best Alliance is indeed back and not only did Mark O’Neal and Ryan Faze join the Alliance, it was learned that …and I can’t believe it….that Lee Best has hired Scottywood as The Best Alliance’s personal referee. How fair can anyone expect Scottywood to be in this match, or the other two Best Alliance matches later tonight.

Benny Newell: How dare you judge Mr. Woodson before even his first match as referee. He could be the greatest referee that HOW has ever seen.

Scottywood calls for the bell as Crow and O’Neal lock up and Crow is able to gain the advantage with a punch to thee head of O’Neal which leads to Scottywood quickly jumping in-between the two and warning Crow that he will DQ him if he does it again.

Benny Newell: Look at that Joe, right off the bat he is fully enforcing the rules of the ring.

Crow and O’Neal are called back together as they lock back up and O’Neal takes advantage with a thumb to the eyes and then straight right after straight right with Scottywood not even saying a word as O’Neal plants Crow with a belly to belly suplex.

Joe Hoffman: Ya, he is fully enforcing the rules… for anyone who isn’t in The Best Alliance.

With Crow on the mat O’Neal locks in a sharpshooter and for a moment it seems as if Scottywood is going to help O’Neal pull a Chicago screwjob, but Crow adamantly screams out NO as loud as he can which prevents The Hardcore Artist from stopping the match as O’Neal wrenches back and synchs the hold in even more. But Crow will not tap and O’Neal eventually gets annoyed and breaks the hold.

Joe Hoffman: Great resolve by Crow as he would not give up to that sharpshooter.

Benny Newell: But he may not have a choice in what happens now….

O’Neal pulls Crow back up to his feet as he drives the boot in to the stomach and sets him up for the Time Bomb and plants Crow on the mat. But instead of going for a cover we see Mark O’Neal start to climb the turnbuckle as there are some boos from the crowd.

Benny Newell: More nut crushing?

Joe Hoffman: I don’t think so Benny. I think O’Neal is going to attempt the Explosive Drop.

Which is exactly what is on O’Neal’s mind as he leaps off and connects with the top rope splash on Crow as he rolls off for a moment in pain, but quickly recovers and scrambles over for the cover on Crow as Scottywood makes the count.

1…

2…

3…

Scottywood calls for the bell as “Give It Away” by Red Hot Chili Peppers starts to play inside The Best Arena and O’Neal has his arm raised by Scottywood above his head.

Joe Hoffman: Well the refereeing may not have been the fairest thing I have ever seen, but Mark O’Neal certainly had a dominating performance tonight in that ring. One has to wonder where Crow’s mind was in this match as it seemed like he never even showed up in this match.

Benny Newell: It’s not that, it’s that Mark O’Neal is just SO talented that Crow COULDN’T get out of the door. That is why he is in The Best Alliance.

 

Finally…Starr vs. Kael!!

We cut back stage as Max Kael can be seen pulling on a pair of leather gloves with a serious expression on his face. He cracks his neck and reaches down off screen to pick up a leather cap that looks like a pilot helmet circa 1920. He fixes it up on top his head and nods to himself. Reaching down again he snatches up a pair of black goggles, strapping them over his eyes before he turns away walking back away from the camera, a long white scarf flapping in the wind behind Max.

As the camera pans over it becomes obvious Max is standing out in the middle of the parking lot where a large race track pattern as been drawn up over the HOW grounds.

“The Final Countdown” blares out over the speakers as Max makes his way toward what appears to be his Road Maxter 5000 hummer style Golf Cart. He appears to have entered a slow motion area as he moves impossibly slowly toward the cart, climbing into the driver’s seat where he grasps the wheel.

Max Kael:..rock on.

Jatt Starr: Seriously? Did you just walk slowly to your car while forcing them to play a song from an Anti-Russian Rocky Film?

Jatt Starr can be seen sitting in the driver’s seat of his old Jattster 5000, the engine idly slowly. Jatt looks bored and completely unimpressed with Max’s entrance. Max sneers at Jatt as he revs his engine.

Max Kael: You’re just jealous that you don’t have as classy a vehicle as me. Now.. you know the rules right Starr?

Jatt Starr: Why yes, Melvin Kingsly, I know. If I win I will go on to take the World Title back from America who stole it from me at War Games. If you win, which you won’t, you get to. But as we know, you won’t.

Max Kael: Max Kael.

Jatt Starr: Marcus Keebler?

Max Kael: MAX KAEL!

Jatt Starr: Merry Kooper?

Max Kael: MAX KAEL! MAX KAEL! MAX KAEL!

Jatt Starr: Whatever Moonbeam Killroy.

The Emperor of HOW snarls once again at Jatt who merely smiles a lazy, arrogant smile at Max. Hunching over Max revs his engine once again which sounds terribly sad considering that it’s a golf cart. Jatt revs his as well while Jethrol the Janitor stumbles out in front of the two racers with a flag.

Jethrol the Janitor: Are you boys ready!?

Max Kael: YES ALREADY!

Jatt Starr: Yeah, more or less. The King of Grapple from the Big Apple is ready whenever you are.

Jethrol nods to both men before he raises the flag. He eyes both men as they rev their small 2 cylinder engines. A small bead of sweat rolls off his forehead before he drops the flag down! With the high pitched whine of two golf carts Max and Jatt tear off down the parking lot!

Max Kael: YOU CAN’T BEAT ME JATT! I’M BETTER!

Jatt Starr: I CAN’T HEAR YOU BUT WHATEVER YOU ARE SAYING PROBABLY ISN’T TRUE UNLESS IT HAS TO DO WITH ME BEING BETTER THEN YOU!

Suddenly Max veers wildly to the side slamming into the side of Jatt Starr’s golf cart causing the two to grind against each other at the wicked speed of about 15 miles per hour! Jatt screams out and pulls the cart back in Max’s direction as he tries to fight back against Max’s attempt to run Jatt off the path marked for them.

The two of them spin around a turn as Max’s vehicle loses some traction and cuts back causing Jatt to take the lead! Max slams on his horn and swears loudly however there is too much noise from the horn to hear it. Jatt casually raises his hand and waves to Max who is left in the dust. Max slams on his breaks and reaches into his pocket, pulling something out of his pocket.

The sneer on his face slowly curls into a smile as he pushes a button. Suddenly a small row of spikes fire up in the path in front of Jatt which he does not notice. As his golf cart hits the spikes his tires explodes causing the golf cart to flip onto its and crash into a few near by cars in the parking lot. Max howls with laughter before he slams on the gas of his car, pushing down on the button in his hand as the spikes snap down.

Max Kael: WHO SAID I COULDN’T BEAT JATT STARR?! AAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Tearing past the wreckage of Jatt’s golf cart Max screams to the finish line where he holds up his arms cheering loudly! Jethrol shuffles over and holds his arms up as the sounds of the fans booing can be heard from within the arena.

Jethrol the Janitor: The NEW NUMBER ONE CONTENDER FOR THE HOW WORLD TITLE… MAX KAEL!

A few medics rush over toward the wreckage of Jatt Starr’s car where he can be seen scrambling free of the cart, blood can be seen on his face from where he has been obviously cut up. His arm is hanging at his side as if it were dislocated and he appears to be limping. As the medics rush forward he kicks at them before staring toward the finish line at Max.

As Max jumps up and down, tossing his goggles up into the air, Jatt Starr seems to try to move forward before he turns away, shoving a medic away. He storms off into the parking lot where he kicks the door to his car open, jumping inside. Before the medics can try to get to the door he slams it closed and peels out of the parking lot, his exit the last shot seen as Max can be seen celebrating back into the arena.

 

Emo Bath?

As the first edition of Turmoil following War Games returns to ringside, the crowd rises to their feet. The reason being that the HOV had immediately begun displaying the entrance video and music of…..

Joe Hoffman: It can’t be! Silent Witness……?!?!

Benny Newell: …Never silent enough for my fucking liking.

The abilities of the man, in and out of the ring, clearly on display. But as abruptly as it started, it fades out again, transitioning into the music and video of Chris Kostoff…

.

.

.

.

…Then Christopher America…

.

.

.

.

.

…and then David Black.

Joe Hoffman: Ladies and Gentleman, the HOV currently seems drunker than Benny, so I can only assume that it we are having some technical difficulties, and sincerely apologize–

Benny Newell: Oh, haha. Look at me, I’m Joe Fucking Hoffman and I made my first ever fucking joke.

And then silence falls once again, with eyes remaining on the HOV, where a new video piece suddenly displays: a countdown. The crowd immediately jumping on the bandwagon and counting loudly along with it, from ten to one…..

…at which point a huge display of pyrotechnics goes off, filling the arena with light and colour, bringing them to their feet with cheers. Only to then catch them off guard as ‘Dead Man Walking’ by Bloodsimple echoes out from the speakers around them.

Joe Hoffman: Shane Reynolds?

The crowd descends now to a mixed, baffled reaction that Shane Reynolds is the one coming out after those false starts. But indeed it is him, stepping out from behind the curtain already dressed in his wrestling attire: his t-shirt hanging over knee-length shorts, the look completed by his heavy unlaced boots. The fringe of his hair serving to partially cover the bandage and remnant marks and scars leftover from the War Games match.

Joe Hoffman: The Hall of Famer looking worse for the wear here tonight, and who can blame him after everything that occurred at War Games.

Benny Newell: Fuck off! He probably did all that to himself after losing.

Shane slips between the ropes and into the ring. All eyes watching him. All ears readily intent on what he has to say as he requests and promptly receives a microphone. Shane hesitates for a moment, his head looking down at his feet, as through trying to discover the words. But then suddenly flicks it backwards, the hair falling from his face as he raises the microphone up.

Shane Reynolds: Ladies….Gentleman….Children of all ages…Thank-you for coming! Thank you for returning with us to CHI-CA-GO!!

The crowd responds with massive, jubilant cheers and screams for the mention of their city and the perpetual home of Thursday Night Turmoil….amidst the surprise that such an opener came from the mouth of Shane Reynolds.

Benny Newell: Kiss ass.

Unlike Benny, Shane remains silent in the ring. The microphone held in the air as though to capture as much of the crowd’s rapture as possible. Then, as it seems to be lessening again, he brings it back down to his mouth.

Shane Reynolds: And to the dawning of a new era! Of course, I could be talking about a new and fresh High Octane Wrestling, free of the tyranny of Lee Best, all courtesy of Chris Kostoff….

Shane pauses then, knowingly, as the crowd erupts at the name drop and the evoked memory of Chris Kostoff sending the High Octane owner down a seventy-foot drop down into the ocean.

Shane Reynolds: …But I’m not. I could instead be talking about the ICON division, where things will surely become that more intense and hard-fought, where the ascension to that status will now have to be truly earned, courtesy of the new Champion…..Graystone!

Another pause, another wave of cheers from the crowd….the solemn expression on Shane’s face not lost on them, regardless, and most especially not on Joe Hoffman.

Joe Hoffman: Wow, after everything that happened between them, I never thought I’d see the day where Shane Reynolds had a civil word to say about Graystone.

Benny Newell: …Double kiss ass.

Shane once again brings the microphone down, his position exactly the same in the centre of the ring.

Shane Reynolds: I could be talking about the World Championship….that is finally in respectable, noble and, dare I say it, worthy and completely deserving hands. Those hands being, of course, Christopher America’s….

The crowd respond with deafening enthusiasm this time, as Shane, pausing once again, expected them to. Whilst Benny opts for the opposite response.

Benny Newell: Triple, pre-quadruple, infinite fucking kiss ass.

But then Shane, smiling at the cheers and not hearing Benny, winds the fervor back down with one sentence.

Shane Reynolds: But I’m not.

He takes this cue to then begin pacing. His heavy boots stomping loudly on the canvas of the ring.

Shane Reynolds: What I’m here to talk about is this….right here.

He reaches down with his free hand and pulls up his T-shirt, revealing the LSD championship, in all its glory, wrapped around his waist. Now bearing his name on the plate.

Shane Reynolds: You see, it could have been so easy to look at everything that had happened in War Games….and moan. It could have been so easy to look at the fact Graystone claimed the championship I helped make a household name….and moan. It could have been so easy to moan about the fact that Christopher America not only eliminated me, but became your new World Championship.

The crowd cheers, but Shane is through waiting now and continues talking above them, regardless.

Shane Reynolds: Just like it could have been easy to look at this championship and consider it a step back. But you know what, I’m through with what’s easy. I’m through with moaning. I say being the LSD championship is not a step back….but the way forward, a new era….for it and for me.

Shane stops pacing now, embracing the increasingly strong reaction, and adopts a solemn look in the centre of the ring.

Shane Reynolds: You got a taste at the beginning of just a few of the great names that have held this championship in the past, that have helped make it great….but now it’s my turn. Recently it’s been held by unworthy hands, hands which were falsely proclaimed as having to be literally dead before they released their grip, but I assure, in my first act as champion, whatever diminishing effect Mr. Faze had on it will be healed in full.

Shane faces breaks out into a smile as, on the HOV – and courtesy of a split-screen at home – footage is shown of the moment Shane eliminated Ryan Faze and became the LSD champion at War Games.

Shane Reynolds: You see, and you quite clearly can see right there, that I endured blood-loss and agony….I sacrificed my well-being…all to get this championship. And now that I have, it’ll take even more to take it from me. No matter what it takes, I’m gonna hold onto this title. I’m gonna do everything and anything in my continued search to find my place, my niche, now amongst those aforementioned and unmentioned men and women who’ve held this championship before me. I’m going to do all in my power to become the greatest and most respected LSD champion……of all time.

???: What about actually beating me for it?

All eyes of the arena all turn as one, to see Ryan Faze already standing on the stage, having already made his silent entrance. His smart attire a strange concurrence with the bruises and cuts and marks adorning his own face. A microphone already held to his lips.

Shane offers the former champion a smile, first of all, before lifting the microphone back up.

Shane Reynolds: Ryan…Ryan….Ryan. Going by your face, I can only assume you are concussed. Because I already did that.

Ryan Faze: At War Games, you mean?

Shane can only nod….pointing that nod at the footage still up on the HOV, clear for all the world to see.

Ryan Faze: That was nothing but a fluke, a lucky involuntary body movement. You wouldn’t have eliminated me otherwise. Just like, at any other time, in any other place, you could never beat me, She-mo!

Shane’s smile remains pinned to his face.

Shane Reynolds: Okay then–I name the place as right here, and the time as right now….

The crowd erupts at the prospect of an impromptu match going down.

Shane Reynolds: …forget elimination tag-team main-events. You and me, right now…I’ll even put the championship on the line. I’ll even use some of my millions to grant you a stipulation of your choice. Come on down….and we’ll see who ends up bleeding and crying.

Shane throws the microphone off into the crowd, raising his hands up now and urging Ryan Faze to come down to the ring. For a moment, Faze does nothing in response. He merely stares down towards Shane….

….and then suddenly breaks into a run down towards the ring.

Joe Hoffman: IT’S ON!!!!

Benny Newell: Cue the shortest LSD title run in history!

But then, all of a sudden, Ryan Faze stops in his tracks and looks up towards the ring, where Shane stares, surprised, for a moment, and then begins to once again urge and beckon the former championship to step up. Instead, Ryan merely lifts the microphone again.

Ryan Faze: You’re not worth the money it would cost to clean your blood of this suit!

All the steadily increasing and amassing cheers and excitement, having reached fever pitch, suddenly declines backwards to all-out boos, aimed at Ryan Faze and the fact the match isn’t going to happen.

Ryan Faze: Wiping the floor with you can wait ’til later.

The boos increase, as Ryan begins backtracking in his steps and heading up the ramp he just ran down.

Ryan Faze: And besides, I wouldn’t wanna risk you fainting by spilling more blood and have you forfeit the match. Not after all the “blood-loss” you endured at War Games. And probably lost every time you cut yourself over some chick that turned you down or when your mom didn’t but you the latest set of Crow DVDs….

Shane shakes his head at Faze, laughing sarcastically at everything he’s saying….before actually willing Faze to continue with everything he feels he’s heard a million times before.

Ryan Faze: Yeah, you go ahead and laugh – like you always seem to try and do these days. But I’m serious and am seriously trying to help you now. Because I know the truth: once an emo, always an emo, and like all emos, you’re crying inside. And that’s the real reason I’m here, interrupting your little….phoney shindig. Because – again, like all emos – sooner or later, you’ll need a… transfusion.

Before Shane’s expression can even turn to confusion upon hearing Ryan’s last word, a huge red waterfall cascades from above.

The sudden shock of the pouring liquid forces Shane’s shoulder to hunch upwards towards his head, the force of it pushing him down onto his knees. Drenching through his clothes to the skin, soaking his hair to his head. Not to mention the ring around him, the liquid pours down for a little while longer and then ceases.

From beneath and amongst the puddle of it, Shane stares at Ryan Faze – who is now the one laughing whilst backing up the ramp – with furious intent.

Joe Hoffman: This is just–

Benny Newell: Hahahaha. Fucking hilarious.

Joe Hoffman: —sickening!

The crowd expresses the same view with unrelenting boos as the intense scene remains the same before the show quickly cuts away to commercial break.

 


WORLD TITLE MATCH
MAXIMILLIAN KAEL VS. CHRISTOPHER AMERICA©

 

A Serious LSD Moment..

Back live…

“Faze! You fucking douchebag, get over here!”

Ryan Faze stops dead in his tracks, halted from making his way back toward the locker room area to prepare for his main event match up. Turning around, the source of the voice is new HOW director Michael Best, who looks slightly less than amused with the former LSD Champion.

Faze: Well look at you, suit and all. Sure to win Best Dressed.

The son of HOW’s God looks at Faze, shaking his head disapprovingly.

Mike Best: Cute. Look, Ryan, I don’t have a lot of time, so I’m going to make this quick. You and me? We got robbed at War Games. Practically at gun point. Now we could sit around and bitch like a couple of freshman teenage girls, or I could do something about it– I think I’m just going to do something about it. You and Reynolds, Capital Punishment, I’m making it official… and for the LSD Title. You’re going to make the Best Alliance proud, and this is going to make me look very, VERY smart– understand?

Faze: Man, lose the robe and you lose the sense of humor I guess– yeah, I understand. Tonight’s blood bath was nothing compared to Capital Punishment, trust me.

Ryan Faze turns back around, prepared to walk away– instead, he finds Mike Best’s hand on his shoulder.

Mike Best: I’m not kidding, Faze. Life on this side of the tracks is a sweet fucking deal, and now you know that. I help you out, and you help me out– and you’ve been waiting to be a part of this group for a long fucking time. Do. Not. Lose. And as for that blood bath shit I saw out there? How fucking old are you, anyway? You represent HOW now. You represent my father. Most of all, you represent me. You’ll fucking act like it from this second forward, is that clear?

Faze: Are you– are you serious, man?

Mike Best: Don’t stoop to his level, Ryan. You’re better than that. Now get the fuck out of here, we have a match to win tonight.

 

David Black vs. Max Kael
Singles Match with Special Guest Referee Scottywood

Crucify” by Soulidium starts to play as we return from commercial and we see David Black making his way down the entranceway to a somewhat warm response from the Chicago fans. Black enters the ring and stares down Scottywood who is always refereeing this match. But Black’s attention quickly turns to the stage as “Puritania” by Dimmu Borgir starts playing and out comes the Minister of HOW, Max Kael.

Joe Hoffman: Well folks an hour or so into the show and we already have two official matches for Capitol Punishment booked and I for one dont think Max Kael deserves his title shot at all.

Benny Newell: Bullshit..he is Best Alliance now and he NEVER got his rematch close and he DID defeat Jatt fair and square..

Joe Hoffman: IN A GOLF CART RACE????

Joe can only sigh and Benny smiles and takes a shot

Joe Hoffman: Moving on…this is going to be a big boy match between Black and the new number one contender for the World Title Max Kael.

Benny Newell: If I where Max Kael I would just let Black win and save himself for the PPV…

Joe Hoffman: Well I am sure David black has to disagree, and as we wait for Scottywood to call for the bell we will soon get to see who really is the better of these two men.

Scottywood calls Black over to check him for any foreign objects as he starts to pat him down and Kael comes up from behind with a blatant low blow which drops Black to the floor as Scotty now calls for the bell with a smirk on his face.

Joe Hoffman: Scotty providing a distraction for Max to blatantly break the rules.

Benny Newell: Hey! The bell hadn’t rung yet, and if Scotty says it is ok then it’s legal.

Kael starts stomping away at Black who tries to cover up but Kael is relentless, as if he is trying very hard to prove to someone that he still is as dangerous as ever. With Black still on the ground Kael backs up and connects with a running punt kick to Black jaw which turns black inside out and may or may not have dislocated the former LSD champion’s jaw.

Benny Newell: There we go Kael, beat the crap out of him!

Kael pulls Black up to his feet and connects with a snap DDT as Max goes for a quick cover on Black.

One….

Two……

Thre

Black gets the shoulder up to the surprise of Scottywood as Max shoots Scotty a dirty look and he pulls Black back up to his feet and whips him into the corner and charges after him and goes for a spear but Black rolls out of the corner and Max goes through the ropes and his shoulder strikes the steel post.

Joe Hoffman: Turn of momentum as now Black has the chance to return the abuse to Kael.

Benny Newell: That’s illegal! Black can’t move of the way! Cheater!

Joe just shakes his head and has no response for his partner as they watch Black size up Kael who stumbles out of the corner holding his shoulder and drills him with a dropkick and then springboards off the ropes and connects with a big moonsault on Kael as he hooks the far leg for the pin.

One……..

Two…………….

Kael gets his shoulder up as Black pops up and gets in Scottywood face for what he feels was a long count but Scotty quickly points to the HOW logo sewn onto his jersey and tells Black to back up. Composing himself Black stalks Kael.

Joe Hoffman: Looks like Black is looking for The Blackout, and if he hits that Scottywood will have no alternative but to count to three.

Benny Newell: You insinuating that Scottywood is not counting fairly? Because I hear he has brought his barbwire hockey stick tonight Joe.

Max climbs back up to his feet and turns around to Black who leaps up for The Blackout but Scottywood pulls Black hair and he falls back instead of grabbing Max’s head. Black gain pops up and gets right into Scottywood’s face and out of nowhere hits The Blackout on Scottywood as the new Best Alliance referee rolls out of the ring as Max Kael turns Black around and attempts for The Singularity.

Benny Newell: The Singularity!!

Joe Hoffman: Black counters!

Black pushes Kael off him and into the ropes and as Kael comes back Black leaps up and connects with The Blackout on Kael.

Joe Hoffman: Blackout connects, but Scottywood is out.

Black hooks Max’s leg as we see referee Matt Boettcher slide into the ring to make the count.

One…..

Two…..

Three……

DING DING DING

Bryan McVay: The winner of this match in 6 minutes and 37 seconds…. David Black!!

Black rolls out of the ring as “Crucify” plays and he has a large smile on his face as there are a sizable amount of cheers for Black .

Joe Hoffman: Well Black defeats the number one contender for the World Title in Max Kael in what is a very big win for him, especially since he overcame the “officiating” of Scottywood in the match.

Benny Newell: What do you mean his “officiating”….and I told you Max would let him win!!

Joe Hoffman: Yaaaaa…ooooookkkk…He’s hardly being fair, and who knows what he has planned for the main event which he is also scheduled to referee. Don’t tell me he won’t be favoring Ryan Faze and Michael Best….. But I’m getting word we have to go to commercial break…what a chaotic night so far….

 


WORLD TITLE MATCH
MAXIMILLIAN KAEL VS. CHRISTOPHER AMERICA© LSD TITLE MATCH

RYAN FAZE VS. SHANE REYNOLDS©

 

End Game

As we come back from the commercial we are greeted by “The Good Life” by Three Days Grace as King Matteo and Mario make their way to the ring while carrying the briefcase containing the Mario and Bobbinette Divorce papers. Mario also has one of the HOW Tag Team Titles around his waist as well as the HOW Internet Title over his right shoulder.

Joe Hoffman: Here comes the man who was victorious at War Games and won the right to write his Divorce Papers to his liking, which we already know will include the draining of Bobbinette Carey’s bank accounts.

Benny Newell: I’m really getting sick of these two. I’m just going to sit here and drink some more.

Mario sits down on the second rope and pushes the top rope up allowing his father to enter the ring. Mario then follows him and is handed a microphone.

Mario: Before I get down to business I want to get a little something off of my chest. As many of you know I originate from Minneapolis Minnesota but currently own my own island or whatever. So I’m pretty much a Minnesota Sports fan.

The fans boo Mario over his selection of favorite teams.

Mario: Now now settle down. I may like the Minnesota Wild but I can honestly stand in this ring here tonight and say that I’m extremely proud of YOUR CHICAGO BLACKHAWKS.

The fans go crazy with cheers as the camera cuts to Jonathan Toews who is sitting ringside.

Mario: Anyhow moving on. You guys didn’t spend your hard earned money to listen to me talk about the Blackhawks, or to see Jonathan Toews there in the front row. You guys came here to see some High Impact Wrestling that only HOW can provide. So I’m going to do my shtick here and get the hell out of the ring so the action can continue.

Mario opens the brief case and pulls out the signed Divorce Papers and holds them in the air as the fans cheer.

Mario: Ladies and Gentlemen what I’m holding here in my right hand is the signed Divorce Papers between Bobbinette Carey and myself. And since we all know these things can be a pain in the ass to read through let me just highlight the important parts.

Number one: Bobbinette Carey is to vacate Maurako Island immediately. What that means Bobbi is your ass better not return to my Island after Turmoil tonight as you’ve been evicted.

Number two: All of the money in Bobbinette Carey’s Banking accounts… and it does list ALL of your bank accounts Bobbi. All of your money is awarded to me, so now you are free to roam about the streets like the ghetto trash that you truly are.

And Number Three: War Games will mark the last time that you will see Mario Maurako booked to take on Bobbinette Carey under any of her aliases. I’ve been kicking Bobbinette’s ass for what seems like an eternity now. I’m tired of doing it, I’m sure she’s tired of being on the receiving end, and more importantly I bet each and every one of you fans out there are damn sure tired of watching it.

The fans applaud Mario for his observations, as Mario moves the Internet Title from his right shoulder to his left shoulder. King Matteo takes the divorce papers from Mario and places them on the turnbuckle and removes a stamp from his pocket. With one quick slam of the stamp King Matteo has made the divorce official. Mario smiles and looks to be relieved that the Bobbinette Carey phase of his career is over.

Mario: It’s time for The Marvelous One to move on to bigger and better things. My therapist has told me that I need to right some of the wrongs from my recent past here in HOW. So next week I’m going to purchase 440 seats, one for each and every woman that I beat up at that Sara Bareilles concert that occurred in March of 2009. Ladies I would like to extend my hand to each and every one of you in person right here next week and ask you to forgive me for my wrong doings.

And Ladies, you can thank Bobbinette Carey for her “Donation” to me and helping me not only get each of you here next week, but also helping in financing my other ventures to gain the respect of Women all across AMERICA!

God Bless!

“The Good Life” by Three Days Grace hits as Mario drops the microphone and unhooks his Tag Team Title from his waist and ascends the turnbuckle and holds both title belts high into the air for a moment before making his way to the back.

Benny Newell: Is it over now?

Joe Hoffman: Yes it is Benny and it really looks like we have a new and improved Mario Maurako here in HOW.

Benny Newell: Don’t make me get sick Hoffman….next you will be telling me that we will be seeing a ..

Joe Hoffman: Watch it Benny…no spoilers till the HOR airs…

Benny rolls his eyes as the crowd waits for the next match to start..

 

Hall of Fame Return?

Joe Hoffman: Folks, with all the insanity jam-packed into this arena tonight, I can only imagine what to expect next..I mean I know we have Carmen Jennings taking on White Mamba but…

Benny Newell: Expect the unexpected, Joe. Expect the unexpected, shut the fuck up, and drink!

The lights begin to shimmer until they die out. A faint light shines on the stage as “Dragonfly” by Shaman’s Harvest begins to play. The crowd get to their feet trying to see who is coming out. The lights in the arena come on as Kostoff steps out onto the stage. The crowd erupts wildly as the HOW Hall Of Famer stands on the stage soaking it all in as the crowd is going nuts as he begins to make his way to the ring.

Joe Hoffman: OH MY GOD! Michael Best said Chris Kostoff wasn’t in the building tonight folks, but it looks like he’s thankfully wrong! As usual.

Benny Newell: Fuck Chris Kostoff. And fuck you too, Joe. This idiot has no business standing in Lee Best’s arena after what he did to him at War Games!

Getting to the ring he slides in and walks around the ring waving at the fans who are still on their feet.

Getting a mic from ringside Kostoff looks out at the crowd. Wearing a pair of jeans, a pair of Under Armour cross trainers, and a gray Affliction t-shirt he puts his hand up to try to quite the crowd.

Kostoff: It’s been a bit since I was in this ring talking, and to be honest folks, it took me a bit to figure out that my time at home relaxing was getting old.

The crowd goes wild, hanging on to even the most mundane of the Hall of Famer’s words.

Kostoff: And by old? I mean I got tired of watching the bullshit that was going on here after I left. Watching Lee Best tell everyone that MPlow is his bastard child that was hatched on some fucking rock in the desert made me fucking sick!

The fans in attendance seem to agree, as they pop even louder this time.

Kostoff: Allowing Plow to open a abortion clinic? Really Lee? Hurting for ratings that bad you dildo? No… what it was, was you missed me!

The crowd goes into a fever as Kostoff begins to pace back and forth in the ring. Pulling his hair out of his face the monster stop and leans in a corner.

Kostoff: You see, watching the joke of a show that HOW had turned into and a joke of a fed that Lee has allowed HOW to turn into is the reason why I’m here tonight.

Benny Newell: Who does he think he is? HOW is bigger and badder than ever!

Joe Hoffman: He makes a point, at least to some degree.

Pushing himself out of the corner he begins to pace back and forth again. With anger raging in his eyes the wildman stops and leans into the television. Pulling his hair back, the scars in his forehead run deep as the emotion in his eyes burn into your soul.

Kostoff: For some time I sat back and watched as Lee has turned HOW from being the leader to a laughing stock. He couldn’t get two guys together to stop SSE. He couldn’t stop me and he can’t stop the bullshit going on.

Kostoff: I grew tired of the stupid bullshit that was allowed to happen, so as of fucking right now…….

The crowd is going nuts as they leap to their feet as he steps back from the ropes.

Kostoff: I’M FUCKING BACK!!!!

The roof of the arena damn near blows off as the crowd explodes. Pacing back and forth Kostoff begins to get himself even more fired up.

Kostoff: I’m back because this isn’t over because Lee wanted to take this to a whole different level. I was not going to allow the White Mamba bullshit and I’m not done with Plowboy either.

Kostoff: I’m starting with the first fucker who gets in my way and I’m gonna run through everyone. And maybe, just MAYBE, this will end– but only when I finally put an end to Lee and finally finish off what he started years ago.

Dropping the mic on the mat Kostoff steps between the ropes and prepares to leave the ring. However, before he can get his first leg through the ropes, “Jesus Freak” by DC Talk begins to blare over the speakers of the arena, turning the fan’s raging cheers into immediate and angry boos. Kostoff steps back into the ring, leaning up against the ropes as a wicked smile comes over his face– the monster seems to actually be excited as HOW interim President Mike Best steps out from the entrance way, not exactly dressed for a fight. He’s holding a microphone, which seems to cue Kostoff to pick his back up from the canvas.

Mike Best: No! NO! Abso-fucking-lutely not!

The crowd continues to boo the former ICON Champion, as he points an angry, shaking finger at the man who took his father out at War Games.

Mike Best: Fuck you Kostoff! You’re not coming back! Not after what you did to my father– I’m going to make sure you never fucking walk again, much less get your filthy, mongoloid hands all over ANY member of the Best Family!

Kostoff laughs, almost evilly.

Kostoff: You gonna come down here and do something about it Junior? If you wanna play dress up tonight and pretend to be your dad, I can show you how it feels to be him right here and now!

Mike Best: Do I look stupid to you, Chris? Do I look like I’m dressed to wrestle? Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to come down there right now, tie that pretty hair back into pigtails, and remind you what it was probably like back in prison before you started that strict regiment of steroids and eating pure fucking rage, but in case you didn’t notice, I have a main event match to compete in tonight. Remember what the main event was like, Kostoff? And maybe you’ve forgotten, but I’m still recovering from a vicious, LIFE THREATENING series of injuries at War Games. No, I’m not going to come down there tonight and hand you the beating of a lifetime– so you don’t have to be afraid.

Kostoff: Afraid? Are you high, kid? I’ve eaten steaks bigger than you.

Mike Best: Classic Kostoff… so witty. Truly, Chris, I don’t know why you didn’t go farther in life. But I’ll tell you what, since you’re itching so bad for a fight, I’ll go ahead and give you one– next week. Next week, in a NO DISQUALIFICATION MATCH… Chris Kostoff can wrestle in his first, and most likely LAST, professional wrestling match– against KELLY FLAWLESS!

The crowd begins to boo, hungering to see Kostoff tear Best’s spine out through his ass and then used to beat him to death. Kostoff shrugs his shoulders, nodding his head in acceptance of the challenge.

Kostoff: Kelly Kole-slaw? That’s the best you’ve got? I accept. And then I’m coming for YOU.

For a brief moment, Mike Best appears to actually shit his pants. He doesn’t, of course, but the fear in his eyes tells all the story we need. “Dragonfly” begins to blast over the speakers again, as Mike Best quickly shuffles back behind the curtain. The crowd is still on it’s feet, cheering ballistically for Chris Kostoff as he steps through the ropes, a smug smile on his face as he makes his way back up the ramp.

Joe Hoffman: You heard it, folks! Next week, Kostoff is officially back in action! Mike Best looked a little… well… terrified of that man, Benny.

Benny Newell: Don’t be an idiot, Hoffman. That was just him getting all, you know, pumped up. Playing mind games. BEST’S SHOW NO FEAR!

 


Next week on Turmoil we will see Chris Kostoff back in action vs. Kelly Flawless in a NO DQ match!

 

Carmen Jennings vs. White Mamba
Singles Match

Joe Hoffman: We’re back and it’s now time for what should surly be an… interesting match as Carmen Jennings wrestles in her first match in about two months against…

Benny Newell: White Mamba!!!! HAHAHAHAHA

Suddenly we hear “Redneck Woman” by Gretchen Wilson play through The Best Arena as White Mamba makes his way out onto the stage, shaking his head at the choice of theme music he has to come out to this week.

Joe Hoffman: Well as we all saw at War Games, James Ranger lost his match to Lee Best, and thus may no longer be referred to as Black Mamba, and only as White Mamba. Ranger will also not receive a HOW title shot for the next six months and Lee is able to choose his theme music for his matches.

Benny Newell: I hate redneck woman Joe. It takes sooo much more alcohol to get them drunk enough to sleep with me.

Joe Hoffman: …..Thanks for sharing that Benny.

I’m So Sick” by Flyleaf cuts in as we Carmen Jennings walking a little gingerly down to the ring but still to a negative reaction from the Chicago fans. Jennings climbs into the ring as Matt Boettcher quickly calls for the bell to get this match underway. Mamba takes the early advantage with his size as he throws Carmen back into the corner and throws a fury of punches before Boettcher pulls him off and Jennings pops back out and drills Mamba with a clothesline before Boettcher can even let go of Mamba.

Benny Newell: That a girl, beat the white out of him!

Joe Hoffman: He is black Benny.

Benny Newell: Explain why he is White Mamba then…. Explain that!

Mamba stumbles back up and into a hurricanrana from Jennings and then a big drop kick as she goes for an early cover.

One…..

Two…..

Mamba kicks out as Carmen drills the rising Mamba with a heel kick and then a bulldog as picks him back up and applys an inverted front face lock as she attempts for her trademark inverted twisting neck breaker, but Mamaba slips out of it counters with a super kick that almost takes Carmen’s head off.

Joe Hoffman: Signs of life from Mamba as he nearly escapes a quick ending of this match.

Benny Newell: Yawn, just wait Joe, he will fail soon enough. It’s in his blood.

Mamba locks in a inverted cloverleaf submission hold as Carmen quickly screams in pain as if she had some per existing injuries that the hold is affecting. Mamba wrenches back on the hold but Carmen shakes her head to Boettcher when asked if she wants to submit. Mamba lets go of the hold after a solid 45 seconds of Carmen not submitting to it and stomps at her a few times before he picks her up and whips her into the ropes and connects with a rising knee that drops Carmen and now Mamba goes for a another submission, an inverted figure four.

Joe Hoffman: Venom by Mamba! Carmen will have to tap out to this!

The look of pain is clear on the face of Carmen as he claws at the mat, trying to pull herself to her only savior in the bottom rope. She fights Mamba as she is gaining inch by inch until she is finally able to grasp the bottom rope.

Joe Hoffman: Carmen escapes, but has the damage been done by Mamba?

Mamba stalks Carmen who pulls herself up on the ropes and turns towards Mamba who attemps a mule kick but Carmen ducks the kick and spinning heel kick which dazes Mamba enough to let her connect with a running elbow to the head of Mamba.

Joe Hoffman: Your favorite thing Benny, P.M.S.!

Benny Newell: Something I’m sure you’re suffering from now Joe… or is it Josie?

Mamba still on his feet now stumbles into the ropes and back to Carmen who again locks in the inverted facelock and drops Mamba with the C-Spike in the middle of the ring as she quickly grabs his leg for a cover.

One….

Two…..

Three……

DING DING DING

Bryan McVay: The winner of this match in 9 minutes and 12 seconds…. Carmen Jennings!!

Joe Hoffman: A solid effort by Black Mamba here tonight, but again he falls just short as Carmen Jennings just squeaks out a victory in a match I am sure she thought was going to be much easier then it was.

Benny Newell: She was just giving him false hope. Carmen had this match in the bag the whole time.

Joe Hoffman: Regardless up next we have our main event, 6 man tag team elimination falls count anywhere action. Champions versus former champions… so stay tuned.

 

A Final Goodbye

As the match between Carmen Jennings and White Mamba comes to an end we are taken to the commentators table where both Joe and Benny are looking square into the camera, Benny through almost closed eyes. Joe is looking rather sombre, as if the news he is about to bring is not good.

Joe Hoffmann- Well it has been over a week since Aceldama last graced the ring since for the final time, and it is my sad duty to report that after 10 days of searches around the area where the horrific crash took place, the body of Aceldama has not been recovered and the search has come to an abrupt end. The bodies of the two ambulance men and the driver, and also that of the driver of the other vehicle were recovered from the scene. The driver of the other vehicle is still fighting for his life in a Hawaii hospital whilst the ambulance men and the driver sadly lost their lives. Our condolences go out to the families of those involved.

Benny seems to be about to say something, which at this time would have been in bad taste but it seems that Joe hits him underneath the table and he stops, looking downwards like a scolded child.

Joe Hoffmann- However, Aceldama did record a video message before his last match and it was found last week in his personal belongings and we are about to show you it now.

The footage reverts to the HOV Screen as a shaky camera action is seen as someone seems to be adjusting the lens. A shadow is seen then all of a sudden, taking a seat on a metal bench, dressed in his full wrestling attire is a somewhat stricken and low spirited Aceldama. There is an awkward couple of minutes of sheer silence, simply Aceldama sitting looking downwards. Then he finally looks up, through lost eyes and begins to speak into the camera. Someone in the crowd, what seems to be only one person, is booing profusely and shouting profanities.

Joe Hoffmann- (soft toned) Will someone deal with him? That is in bad taste!

Aceldama- If you are watching this…….then what I have expected to happen has happened. I have defied doctor’s orders in order to be able to compete in this match, my final match. The last time I will be able to grace a ring as a professional wrestler. A chance to go out in my final blaze of glory. I should be excited, but I am not. I am far from it. I am scared. Scared that putting myself through this will all be in vain, that I could die out there, and what for? Just so I could feel alive one last time? The more I think of this, and everything that has happened, it is not worth it. I have just seen a man commit suicide, a man who could not handle the pressure of life any more. A man I respected, a peer within this business. Am I meant to go out here and pretend that everything is ok? Because it is not. Every time I go into a match I go in prepared, both mentally and physically. This time, in one of the most important to me on a personal level, I am neither. This is a mistake, the biggest mistake I have ever made, and I have made a few.

I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to die……….

(Aceldama starts to break down, a single tear rolls down his cheek)

…….I am not ready. I have so much more I wanted to do. I have always lived my life either between the walls of prison or the corners of the ring, I never had anything else. Friends taken away from me, loved ones gone. Everyone I ever got close to has died. Emily, Hans……and now Marcus. Maybe this world was not made for me, maybe it would be better without me. They say when you are close to death you go through stages, denial through to acceptance. I cannot accept this. What I can accept is that I do not deserve to be mourned, do not deserve to be remembered as a great person, because I was not.

I tore apart people’s lives, done things that are sickening. And I justified it all by saying that was who I was. A monster, a monster who cannot become human. Well…..this monster has become human now. Lost and frightened, like all of you, unsure if he will even make it through this day. I do not want a funeral, I do not even want a service, I do not want to be remembered, because I am not the type of person who deserves to be remembered.

All I ever wanted was to redeem myself for all my past mistakes, but I continued to make matters worse. I kidnapped the child of Simon and Bethany Sparrow, I turned my back on redeeming myself because I felt that I would never get acceptance from you….the people. But in truth, I never wanted acceptance from you, I wanted to do it for myself…….to prove I could. And I failed.

Soon the end for me draws. And all I wanted to say here to whoever watch this is…..I am sorry. I am sorry for the kind of person I was and what I have done in my past. No words will ever heal the damage I have caused, but at least you can know that I bring this heavy burden with me to my grave. I also want to thank you all too, for letting me into your homes every week, I know it is hard to like someone so evil, but thank you all the same. Thank you to Lee Best for allowing me the opportunity to do what I love every week and having faith in me. I know we never met eye to eye Lee but my heart goes out to you now and I do hope that you recover and get back to running the company.

Finally, I want to say this. Simon……………I know this has probably came too late for you but…….thank you. I have never been able to say that because I am too proud, but as I look back now, I would never have won that title without your help. I am sorry for all I put you through, you did not deserve any of it. Maybe in another life we could have been friends, but I was too stubborn to let anyone in. Instead you gave me a final feud that will always be remembered, a feud that ends tonight. I know you want to go out here and destroy me, ruin my last moments, and I would not blame you for it. I have done things to you, your family and friends which are uncalled for, and I accept everything that comes to me. You are a true great Simon and I am honoured to have been in the same ring as you.

That is it for me, my final words to you all. Remember, life can be short, live every moment like it was your last, because before you know it its gone. Don’t let anybody ever tell you that you cannot do something, follow a dream and stick with it. I am but an example.

This is Wolfgang Bruggemann………..

It finally is too much for Aceldama who breaks down in a pool of tears as he is about to end his transmission.

…………….saying thank you………and goodbye.

The camera gets the final images of a broken and beaten Aceldama sitting looking into the camera, eyes watered and red as he sits looking blissfully into the abyss. Then he stands up and slowly walks over to the camera and switches it off, sending the HOV screen into static.

As it ends the crowd begin to cheer his name and the entire arena is standing clapping, even Joe and Benny are on their feet as a montage plays of Aceldama’s key moments within the High Octane ring accompanied by 3 Doors Down’s ‘When I’m Gone’, then the ((–A–)) symbol begins to flash on the HOV screen then fades away to black as the claps and cheers continues. Joe and Benny are now back to their chairs as the camera pans back to them.

Joe Hoffmann- I don’t think there is a dry eye in the house. Love him or hate him the man brought his all to the federation, he lived…..and died, for wrestling. Very touching moment there, and for him to finally say thank you to Jatt Starr, I never thought I would see the day. We are going to go to a commercial break folks, main event is up when we return.

Fade to final commercial break…

 


High Octane Wrestling goes on the road starting……NEXT WEEK!!!!

 

Jatt Starr, Ryan Faze & Mike Best vs. Shane Reynolds, Graystone & Christopher America
Tag Team Elimination Match with Special Guest Referee Scottywood

Returning from the commercial break we see the HOW ring filled with five of the six scheduled combatants of tonight’s main event with referee Scottywood trying to keep the two teams separated.

Benny Newell: This is completely unfair. Jatt is not here for this match putting Faze and Best at a 2 on 3 disadvantage!

Joe Hoffman: Well considering Scottywood hasn’t been Mr. Fair tonight I think that evens things out.

Benny Newell: I still don’t see where this criticism of our esteemed new referee is coming from Joe. Why can’t you be professional and give Mr. Woodson some credit.

Scottywood gives up trying to keep order as he calls for the bell and we see Faze go right after Reynolds as the exchange punches and Faze tackles him through the ropes and to the outside. In the ring America and Graystone double team on Best and throw him to the corner as Graystone goes for a clothesline but best dodges it and sends a charging America over the top rope with a back body drop.

Joe Hoffman: The World champion goes for a ride as Best is alone with Graystone in the ring.

Best drives a boot into the stomach of Graystone and proceeds to connect with the Christ Effect as Scottywood is quickly in position for the cover by Best.

One……

Two……

Three…..

Bryan McVay: Graystone has been eliminated.

Joe Hoffman: Well that quickly evens things up as Graystone is gon….

WHACK

America blindsides Mike Best from behind with a steel chair shot to the back of his head as America continues to drive the chair into the back of the fallen Mike Best.

Joe Hoffman: Falls count anywhere rules makes this all legal folks.

Benny Newell: But not right! Someone stop America.

Discarding the steel chair America picks Best back up to his feet and best tries to fight back as the two exchange blows but the effects from the steel chair shots don’t allow Best to mount much of a fight as America connects with an America enziguri which drops Best. On the outside a hardcore battle has ensued as Faze and Reynolds have been trading kendo stick shots and have almost broken down into some sort of sword fight from a Pirates of the Caribbean movie.

Benny Newell: All were missing is Keira Knightley…. Oh what I would do to her if she was he…

Joe Hoffman: Calm down Benny, HOW can’t afford to keep buying you new pants after every show. But yes Faze and Reynolds are battling it out with those kendo sticks.

Faze gets a good shot in on Reynolds which causes the LSD champion to drop his kenod stick and open Faze up to hit the Fazebuster on the outside of the ring as Scottywood dives out of the ring to make the count on the floor as Faze goes for the cover.

One….

Two…..

America launches himself over the top rope and breaks the count, hitting both Faze, Reynolds and Scottywood with the suicide dive. America climbs back to his feet as we see Best trying to recover in the corner in the ring, which America doesn’t let happen for long as he pulls the son of Lee Best out of the ring and tosses him into the front row of the Chicago crowd.

Joe Hoffman: Falls count anywhere, even out in the crowd Benny.

Benny: I’m drunk joe, not stupid. If anyone watching doesn’t know falls count literally anywhere then they should switch over to fuckin Glee and hand in their testicles.

Joe Hoffman: We do have female fans too Benny.

America slams Best’s head off the guardrail as we see Matt Boettcher make his way down the entrance way and towards where America and Best are fighting, but this time he is grabbed by Scottywood who is back to his feet and Boettcher gets the Game Misconduct from The Hardcore Artist.

Benny Newell: Referee on referee crime! Boettcher just got owned by Scotty.

Joe Hoffman: Scottywood, really a wrestler laying out a referee. Hope Scotty is proud, Matt was just doing his job.

Best is now cut open as America throws best back over the guardrail and as Best stumbles back up to his feet America locks in the inverted facelock and connects with For America as he hooks the leg. But Scottywood doesn’t want to make the count and instead is about to lay a boot to the back of America’s head as Reynolds cuts Scotty off by spearing him to the ground and we see Rick Stevens slide in to make the count.

One…..

Two……

Three…..

Bryan McVay: Michael Best has been eliminated.

Joe Hoffman: Advantage back to America and Reynolds as Ryan Faze is the sole member left of his team.

Benny Newell: If anyone can do this it is Ryan Faze…. In fact he WILL do this.

Ryan makes his way around the ring to Shane and America as he stares down the two men for a moment before charging at them and trading blows as he is able to hold his own, even being able to Phenomenal Fazeplex Christopher America as he tackles Reynolds to the ground and locks in the Inverted CrossFaze submission hold and we see Reynolds start to fade.

Joe Hoffman: Dragon sleeper by Faze and we could see things even up once again.

Benny Newell: Where is Scottywood? Reynolds is out, eliminate him!

Joe Hoffman: Reynolds is still moving! He is far from passed out Benny.

Scottywood is back to his feet and makes his way over to Reynolds who is still struggling to fight out of the hold as Scottywood grabs his arm and raises it up and slams it downward.

ONE!

He goes to grabs Shane’s arm again but Rick Stevens tries to but in and stop Scotty only to get drilled with a hard right from The Hardcore Artist. Scotty then again grabs Reynold’s arm and raises it up as we can see Reynolds fight but he is weak and cannot resist Scottywood who throws his arm to the ground again.

TWO!

Joe Hoffman: This is bullshit. Shane is still conscious!

Benny Newell: The referee is always right Joe!

Attempting to do the same for a third time which would eliminate Reynolds we see Scottywood raise the arm, but he is cut off as America drills Scotty with a trash can as Faze lets go of the hold on Reynolds to try and attack America but gets hit with the trash can himself as he stumbles back to Reynolds who hits a low blow on Faze who falls to the ground as Reynolds climbs up onto the apron and starts to scale the turnbuckles.

Joe Hoffman: Shane wouldn’t be thinking…. Yes I think he is!

Benny Newell: America and Reynolds should both be disqualified for what they just did to Scottywood! How dare they attack a referee!

Reynolds lines Faze up as he leaps off the top rope and flips 450 degrees in the air before hitting Ryan Faze on the outside of the ring as the crowd in Chicago explodes with cheers for the insane move. Reynolds hooks the leg of Ryan Faze who is in lots of pain as America drags Scottywood over to make the count, but The Hardcore Artist refuses.

Joe Hoffman: Do you damn job Scottywood! Make the count!

Still refusing to count we see America lock in an American cloverleaf submission hold and wrenches back on the hold as Scotty screams in pain as he starts to tap out by slamming his hand on the mat…

Once….

Twice…..

Three Times…..

The bell suddenly rings as the crowd cheers and we hear “Dead Man Walking” by Bloodsimple start to play and America releases the hold on Scottywood and Reynolds gets up from the floor, the two quickly celebrating their victory.

Bryan McVay: Ryan Faze has been eliminated, thus the winners of this match, Christopher America and Shane Reynolds!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Well Ryan Faze and Mike Best put up a hell of a fight tonight, but the numbers game really hurt them in this match.

Benny Newell: Fuckin Jatt Starr! Why did he have to no show this match, a match that The Best Alliance should have won.

Joe Hoffman: Well they didn’t and Shane Reynolds now holds another pinfall over the man he will be facing at Capitol Punishment, Ryan Faze.

Benny Newell: That means nothing Joe. When the time matters we will see Ryan Faze beat Shane Reynolds and reclaim his LSD title.

Joe Hoffman: And I hope Max Kael was watching this match as Christopher America seems red hot right now and Max Kael will neeed to really step things up if he wants to beat the World champion come Capitol Punishment.

Benny Newell: Don’t you worry about Maxy either, he will be ready and this Christopher America as World champion will soon be nothing but a dream.

Joe Hoffman: Well we are out of time here on Turmoil this week, tune in next week for another action packed night of High Octane Wrestling… good night!

Benny Newell: DRINK!

 

**BONUS SEGMENT**

“Not too bad for the kid’s first night on the job, huh?”

The voice echoes through the empty arena, bouncing off the rafters of the Kallisten Coliseum and bringing a chill down the spine of Lee Best, as he sits alone near the front row at ringside. For these fifteen minutes, there is nothing– no fans, no employees– and not even the janitors have begun their nightly foray into cleaning the shit out of the chairs. Lee spins around, slowly, and absent mindedly– for him, there hasn’t been a prouder moment in quite some time, as Mike Best takes a seat next to him in the cheap plastic chairs.

Lee Best: Fucking Kostoff.

Mike Best: Fuck-Ing-Kostoff is right. Why don’t you just let me fire him?

Lee shakes his head no, looking angry for a moment, but it quickly fades from his face.

Lee Best: I thought you were running HOW now, fucker?

Mike Best: No shit. Didn’t you watch tonight? I made a statement– I booked two matches for Capital Punishment. I threw Kostoff at the mercy of Kelly Flawless… I mean, I wasn’t sleeping out there tonight. I was making shit happen.

Lee Best: Flawless is a joke. Kostoff is going to murder him– and then you’re going to fire him. That’s how this one plays out. But you’re getting the idea. You want to impress your old man? Fuck Carmen Jennings and do something to make me believe that you losing the ICON Title was a fucking fluke. That’ll impress me.

Mike Best: I want John Watson in the Best Alliance. I’m booking him against me next week, in the main event– number one contendership for the ICON title on the line. He’ll do the right thing. Anyone who’s Best Alliance material would do the right thing.

Lee Best: So much to learn. Oh, and fuck you if you think you’re taking my show out of the Coliseum– I saw the press releases today. I’m taking some time off, I’m not dying– cut that shit off right the fuck now, and do it my way.

Mike stands from his seat, a soft chuckle escaping him as he pats his father on the back.

Mike Best: You said it yourself, dad– I’m running the company now. I’ll call you from Minnesota.

With a smirk, the former ChristPlow walks back up the ramp, leaving his father to sit alone amidst the sea of empty chairs. Lee softens his voice, speaking truly only to himself.

Lee Best: Now he’s getting it.

END TRANSMISSION

Show Details

Kallisten Coliseum

Chicago, Illinois

Show times

  • 9:00PM
x