Turmoil: May 13th, 2010 (2010)

Weekly Show | 120 Min

Show Transcript

Thursday Night Turmoil
May 13th, 2010 – #HOW118
Kallisten Coliseum, Chicago, IL


Order Restored

The HOTv logo flashes briefly across the HOV, followed by the logo for High Octane Wrestling itself as the lights come on in the Kallisten Coliseum. Explosions of pyrotechnics and fireworks emanate from the entrance way and stage, signaling the beginning of another edition of Thursday Night Turmoil. The camera begins to slow pan around ringside, displaying the packed crowd and various hand crafted signs the fans have brought into the arena.

I Came for Bob Jared

Knock Knock Mamba

Fuck Waldo, We Found Jatt Starr

That Bottom Lining Was Justin Decent

Induct Besty into the HOF

The camera pans over the ring area briefly, before cutting to the commentary table, where screaming fans can be seen trying to get their faces on television behind senior commentators Joe Hoffmann and Benny Newell.

Joe Hoffman: Hello everyone, I’m Joe Hoffman, here with Benny Newell to welcome you to another action packed episode of High Octane Wrestling’s Thursday Night Turmoil!

Benny Newell: If you can find a better wrestling federation out there, I suggest you take it down the nearest alleyway and rape it!

Joe Hoffman: Vulgar, Benny, even for you, tonight we have not one, not two but THREE title matches, Kelly Flawless debuts in HOW with a HOFC title match against Christopher America, also James Ranger gets the opportunity of a lifetime as he goes for the ICON title, held by none other than, ahem, Michael Best, son of none other than Lee Best and in the main event of the night, the return of Jatt Starr, as he tries to take the world title from Aceldama……

And with the calling of Aceldama’s name, Rammstein- ‘Sonne’ comes onto the PA system as the world champion struts out to ringside, holding the world title around his shoulder, he ignores the boos from the fans as he climbs the steps and walks directly center of the ring. He stands with a snarl on his face, as he gives a cut throat sign, and his music stops immediately. He looks around at the crowd who are showing tension to his mere standing there! Microphone in hand he presses it to his mouth and begins to speak

Aceldama: Last week I brought in two final members to my team, the last two members. It was meant to be a showpiece of unity, which ended in anarchy. Marcus Reinhardt attacking me, then Crow in favor attacking him, only to go for the world title in a showing that signifies one thing each and every member of my so called ‘team’ is showing. Greed, selfishness, thinking they are the lone wolf, that they can do this on their own. Tonight…..all that ends. Each and EVERY member will fall into order, or else be left in the wilderness. Let’s get this started, Reinhardt…..get your ass out here!

All of a sudden Reinhardt’s music hits, ‘The Underdog’ by Kasabian and Aceldama goes livid, shouting over the song.

Aceldama: Stop the music, this man gets no hero’s welcome tonight. He will come out unaccompanied.

Reinhardt’s music stops and all of a sudden we see Marcus Reinhardt come out from the backstage area, sporting a new t-shirt which says 6, then two smaller 6’s beside it, and beneath, ‘The Number of the Beast’.

His eyes are focused on Aceldama, who in turn REFUSES to even blink as he watches Reinhardt come into the ring. He walks over to Aceldama, then turns around to ask for a microphone. Aceldama stops him

Aceldama: Marcus, you won’t be needing that, tonight, your ears will suffice.

Reinhardt turns back and stands opposite Aceldama who walks around him, looking at his shirt, smiling away to himself

Aceldama: Nice shirt Marcus. It plain to see you are…..proud of what done last week? How did it make you feel? To have the world champion in your grasp as you suplexed him six times? Good I am certain. But Marcus, did you honestly think I would simply forget about it? That I would let sleeping dogs lie? Oh no, not me Marcus. I came to that ring and I gave you the opportunity of a lifetime, the chance to headline at War Games, a chance to make something of this career of yours, because, let’s face it, it has not been the prestigious one you envisioned in that hollow head of yours. You know something Marcus, you should count yourself lucky…..I had planned to rip you apart within this very ring, show to the world what a sorry piece of shit you truly are! But no….I pity you ya see. This long, long career and what have you to show for it? Nothing! Absolutely nothing. Instead of make you suffer physically, I intend to make you suffer even more, mentally that is. I am thinking that when you arrived you were looking for something…..these maybe?

Aceldama delves into his pocket and takes out a small plastic bottle of painkillers.

Aceldama: What are these for Marcus? To hide the pain of your aging body? Or to mask the emotional scars you have from living this entire life of wrestling, with nothing to show for it? I wanted to help you Marcus, give you that chance you wanted, but instead…..you threw it in my face! I should throw you off the team as quickly as you got into it, but no. That accomplishes nothing for me. Because you do show passion, a will to succeed, and I aim to use it. But also…..take control of the Doberman! These pills you cherish so much, that you need, I will control. You play like a team player, then you will get your pills, you don’t, you suffer.

Marcus outstretches his hand to say to Aceldama he wants to speak

Aceldama: No Marcus, you don’t get to speak, your actions spoke for you last week. I have something for you now, something that will make you remember, whilst you’re in this team, you work for ME, nobody else, but me!

Aceldama once again delves into his pocket and takes out a leather dog collar and hands it to Reinhardt.

Aceldama: Whilst you are in this team, you belong to me, you will do as I say, and you will do it without a whimper, like a good Doberman should be like. Now put this on, and remember when you look down upon it, your mine!

Reinhardt stands and holds the dog collar, then turns away.

Aceldama: Marcus, get out of my sight, go stand in the corner like a good dog, I have others to speak to.

Reinhardt stands in the corner, holding onto the dog collar in his hands as Aceldama turns back to the stage area looking on.

Aceldama: Crow……your time has come, get down here now, and this time, no music, let him walk in silence.

Crow again comes out from backstage, unaccompanied by any music and comes down to the ring, going under the ropes. Unlike Reinhardt who was staring directly at Aceldama all the time, Crow is staring directly at the title, refusing to blink, whilst Aceldama is looking directly at him. He leans forward and clicks his fingers.

Aceldama: Concentrate Crow. I know it must be hard for you, standing opposite the man who took this title from you all those months ago, only to see that he STILL has it around him. But you came back for one thing Crow, redemption. To right all your wrongs, and to prove to everyone out there, you still had it. But how can a man be focused on what he aims to achieve if all he sees is the reflection of gold? This will come to you again Crow, in time. When I am gone someone must take over the mantle, someone must become the new champion. But how do you expect to work alone Crow, if all your seeing is the world title? Who is going to guide you? Who is going to help you get to that promise land? Join me Crow, and I promise you, I will help you along the way……this title once I am gone, it means nothing to me, it must be handed down. And I promise that IF I am the last man standing, that this title will go to the one man who shows the most teamwork and gives the most effort to making the TEAM a success. Are you with me Crow, or do you want to walk in the wilderness, starring at the reflection of gold as another suitor takes hold of it, and it draws further away?

Crow takes a moment to contemplate the decision in front of him. Then he outstretches his hand and Aceldama smiles and goes and shakes his hand too.

Aceldama: Good decision Crow, don’t let the reflection blind your way. Now….let’s have another one out here…….David Black, get out here now!

Crow moves aside, standing behind Aceldama but on opposite ends to Reinhardt as even though they are on the same team, Reinhardt still feels the bitterness of the sneak attack by Crow last week.

David Black emerges, but not alone. Coming behind him is none other than Father Michael and HE has a microphone in hand. Both men make it to the ring and an angered Aceldama stands stunned as Father Michael comes directly in front of him, with Black standing behind…..and begins to speak.

Father Michael: You know Ace…you come out here and you do your speech and you dangle the world title as the proverbial carrot in front of your team. I have no doubt that it is an effective tactic that will work perfectly with the rest of the team. You come out here and you call for unity, for teamwork and for everyone to fall in line. But when I look into your eyes I do not like what I see. You are fuelled by ego and greed, just like the rest of your team. And you choose to appeal to that greed as a means of making everyone work together. A sensible move, perhaps, but a risky one. A group of people brought together by greed will only last for so long. It is inevitable that they will eventually turn on each other but, as you just pointed out, it is your team, you are the leader and thus you have the right to choose whatever means of motivation you see fit.

Aceldama: I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but I called for David Black, not his mouth. I don’t need his guidance counselor out here spewing shit. So get the fuck out of my ring, and leave your mute behind!

Father Michael gets offended and moves out of the ring as Black, still standing prone, still silent, looking down to the ground. Aceldama walks over to him, looking down on him.

Aceldama: You don’t speak much anymore do you? I like that, someone I can work with. Your advisor, your teacher, whatever he is, he is masking your mind David. Do you not like what you see? Do you think I am fuelled by ego and greed? If ego and greed got me this far, I think I am using the right fuel don’t you agree David? You were a great champion, possibly the greatest LSD champion of this era, but then you blew it all. You want your chance to rekindle what you once had, you just need the platform, and War Games is that platform David. So forget what your leader, spiritual advisor, whatever the hell he is saying to you, because nothing makes more sense than YOU, getting back to where you were, as a great potential, an untapped source who was ready for bigger things. I always said the LSD division was below you, you were so much more….now…..you have that chance, but only if you comply and recognize, you’re in a TEAM, and that TEAM has a captain……me!!

David Black says nothing, he doesn’t even move a muscle, then still looking down, he gives a small nod and walks away as Aceldama once again lets out a little smile.

Aceldama: Now to the members not picked by my hand, those members who flooded their way into my team……Scottywood, get out here!

There is a long pause and nothing happens, Scottywood is nowhere to be seen.

Aceldama: Fine, so you still want to remain the renegade, the sixth man? A man without a team? You say you want to go against Lee Best, but you refuse to team with the one man who wants nothing more than to take Lee Best down. Fine…….on your own head be it…….Scottywood, you have twenty four hours to show your allegiance to me, that you are willing to be part of this TEAM, or else, you are no longer a member of my squad and are banished from War Games. All that money you spent to get here, for what? What will Scottywood be doing on the 6th June, playing scrabble with Frankie at home, or fighting for the chance to make something of your career? You say you like to go alone, but have you ever been without a tag partner? What about when you were by the side of Lee Best? You cannot go alone, and you know it. So 24 hours Scotty, think it through……..

Now……………Shane Reynolds. The man who only last year I stood side by side with, co-winners of the tournament, oh so much has changed since then ey Shane? Your bitterness towards me is as sour as the finest of lemons. So you FORCE your way onto the team, you force my hand and try my patience week in and week out, but no more Shane. You are not above this team and you are not above ANYBODY, you are but a man, a man that must realize that he is booked himself a ticket to War Games, with myself as his leader. So Shane, come on out, do the right thing, let’s forget our differences, and let’s be the team you so forced yourself into.

Again there is no reply, a long pause as nobody comes out, this time, unlike before Aceldama is furious.

Aceldama: Who do you think you are Shane? Who do you think you are to refuse this opportunity to be part of a team? I could have had you thrown out weeks ago for plagiarizing someone else’s invitation, but I didn’t. Cause I know, when you are focused, you offer so much. But again you’re a stubborn lone wolf, fine, you want to roam with Scotty, so be it, you TOO have twenty four hours to pledge your allegiance to me, or else your expelled from the team. I don’t care if I go down to four men, it will be four men willing to fight for ME and the TEAM, instead of six renegades. So Shane, twenty four hours…….and after which…….oh wait I have an idea, after which, if neither of you men have come forward with what I expect from you as team members……you will both face one another, the winner will get back onto the team. So are you going to risk it both of you, or are you going to do the right thing? These three did. Now I am done, Team Aceldama…..unite!!

Aceldama turns and raises his hands as the other members behind him do otherwise as they stand staring at the HOv Screen.

Joe Hoffman: Holy crap, statement and a half from Aceldama there! Comply or die is the message. With Shane AND Scottywood refusing to come to the ring, they both now have 24 hours in order to pledge their allegiance to Aceldama and the team, or else they are out of war games altogether.

Benny Newell: Did he even contemplate that they might not be here yet?

Joe Hoffman: No they are here Benny, this is a statement, of intent from Aceldama; his team will be a team, no lone rangers, under the sword of his rule. We’ll be right back folks.

Ya who doesnt want a drink after that opener?

Lazarus vs. John Eric Peter Watson
Singles Match

Back from our first commercial break of the night, a bellowing chorus of boos can be heard for John Eric Peter Watson, who enters the ring with a swagger in his step having gone undefeated thus far in HOW against the likes of Black Mamba and Mark O’Neal.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back, folks, as there you see the impressive newcomer Jo-

Benny Newell: JPube! Holy shit… did I just use a nickname that was given by Shane Reynolds?

Joe Hoffman: Ahem… well, I think you might have, Benny.

Benny Newell: Fuck, I need to drink for that one…

Joe Hoffman: As I was saying, John Eric Peter Watson has made his mark here early in his High Octane career, having already beaten James Ranger and Hall of Famer, Mark O’Neal…

Benny Newell: The match against O’Neal was a fluke, Joe! Clearly, the “Explosive One” was high off his ass that night… a rare loss from a member of Team Best.

Joe Hoffman: Well, that certainly can be debated, but as for now, it will be interesting to see if Watson’s hot undefeated streak continues against a man who is making his High Octane Wrestling debut here tonight on Turmoil.

On cue, the music of Lazarus – the 6’8, 302 pound monster that hides his face behind a skull mask – hits the speakers, prompting the big man to appear from the curtain. There’s a mixed reaction for the newcomer, who ambles slowly to the ring before climbing the ring steps and stepping over the top rope. While Referee Joel Hortega looks a bit intimidated by his presence, Lazarus’s opponent – JEPW – appears eager and willing to fight him upon an almost immediate call for the ring bell.

From the outset, John Eric Peter bravely approaches Lazarus, only to get thrown down hard by his much larger opponent. Quick to his feet, a surprised JEPW storms up to Lazarus to protest the move, only to receive a violent Big Boot that Lazarus likes to call the ‘Titanic Boot’. A quick hook of the leg and Lazarus is the first to attempt a pin fall tonight on Turmoil.

Joe Hoffman: One, two…NO! Kick out by Watson!

Climbing to his feet, Lazarus drags JEPW to his and scoops him up into his arms, pressing him over his head with ease as the announcers marvel at the Nevada native’s strength.

Joe Hoffman: Gorilla Press Slam by Lazarus!

Benny Newell: Yeah, he’s got JPube on his heels early… looks like his undefeated streak here in the HOW could be in jeopardy.

As Joe admonishes Benny for the JPube nickname, Lazarus looks for the Osaka Street Cutter on an ailing JEPW, only for Watson to slip out of the move and land a drop kick to his knee. Another kick from JEPW forces Lazarus to buckle until a third and final boot brings his opponent down to his level. Favoring his knee, Lazarus has no time to evade the Springboard Clothesline from John Eric Peter that only proves to stagger the big man as he rocks backward on his knees. Frustrated that his moves aren’t nearly as effective as he thought they’d be, JEPW tries for a second Springboard Clothesline but finds himself caught in the grasp of Lazarus, who secures him tightly by his throat.

Joe Hoffman: We could see a Chokeslam here by Lazarus…


Joe Hoffman: He nails it!

With JEPW rolling slowly to his knees and then to his feet, Lazarus signals for his Vertical Drop Powerbomb finisher; a move he calls the ‘Last Rites’. As soon as Watson rises, Lazarus boots him in the mid-section and secures him into the Powerbomb setup before dropping him with devastating force!

Benny Newell: Damn! That had to fucking hurt! DRINK!

Joe Hoffman: The cover! One, two… three! This one’s over, folks!

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner by way of pin fall in 8:14… LAZARUS!!!

Joe Hoffman: Lazarus has put an end to John Eric Peter Watson’s undefeated streak here in HOW!

Hesitantly, Joel Hortega approaches Lazarus to raise the arm of masked beast, who exerts a boastful roar to the crowd before the show cuts elsewhere in the arena.


Phenomenal Booking

I’m telling you man, the Explosive Club was poppin’ last night…”

One might think that this voice heard over the arena would belong to the “Explosive One” himself, Mark O’Neal. However, that proves not to be the case as the smug-looking face of the LSD champion, “Phenomenal” Ryan Faze, appears across the HOV.

Slowly but surely, the camera zooms out to reveal him exquisitely dressed in a pin-striped, Versace-made suit, black in color to match the neon-blue dress shirt that he’s wearing underneath. Speaking into the receiver of his Blackberry that is pressed against his ear, Ryan pats the LSD championship belt that is strapped firmly around his waist as he paces the corridor outside of Lee Best’s office.

Ryan Faze: What do you mean you’ve been sober for thirteen days? You’re the ‘Explosive One’! You’re the Inaugural winner of the War Games match and a former World and Tag Team champion to boot!

Pausing to listen to Mark O’Neal on the other line, Ryan stops in front of the door of Lee’s office.

Ryan Faze: Look… nobody cares if you lost to some jobber. Nobody cares if you haven’t won a match in… wait, when exactly was the last time you won a match?

Audibly, shouting can be heard through the receiver to Ryan’s phone as he holds it away from his ear out of surprise.

Ryan Faze: Sorry! Sorry! Again… no one gives a shit, especially when you’re about to go out there and obliterate that pigeon-shit, Crow. Just relax, man. Turn on some Bob Marley and smoke a bowl or something… but hey, I’m about to check in with Lee. You coming with us after the show, or what?

With a smirk written across his face for what he’s got planned after the show, Faze pauses once again in hopes that his convincing worked to persuade the former World champion.

Ryan Faze: See? Now that’s the Mark O’Neal that I know. Alright man, good luck out there. Later.

As he presses the ‘End’ button to his cell phone, Faze spins around swiftly, right chest-first into a daunting, imposing figure.

Lee Best: The fuck’s with all the commotion out here? Come on, Faze, you know how I like to hear Missy’s slurping sounds when she’s blowing me.

Wearing nothing but his trademark red suit jacket and boxer shorts, Lee’s smirk says it all as Missy Andrews runs scurrying past the two and down the hallway, pulling her t-shirt down past her ass so not to reveal anything “private” in front of the cameras.

Ryan Faze: Yeah, uh… you gonna put pants on, or no? ‘Cuz if you aren’t, maybe I should come back another time…

Looking down past his waist, Lee realizes what Faze is talking about and does him the justice of putting his pants back on.

Ryan Faze: Thanks.

Lee Best: Don’t sweat it. So? What brings around the champion of my very own Superstar Division?

Removing his silver mirrored shades from his face, Faze takes a seat in the chair opposite from Lee, across his desk where his infamous Bottom Line pen rests in its place.

Ryan Faze: Listen, I know time is of the essence around here so I’ll try to make this quick. Now I don’t know what you’ve got planned on your agenda, but with everything going on, I thought I’d make it clear to you that I plan on winning War Games.

Lee Best: No offense Faze, my boy, but don’t you think everyone in that fucking match plans on winning it?

Ryan Faze: With all due respect Lee, there’s a difference between planning on winning it and actually going out there to get the job fucking done. See, Team Walrus – or whatever Jatt likes to call them these days – is littered with has-beens and wanna-bes. The fact that guys like Black and Marcus Reinhardt are even competing in this match is downright laughable, hence the point I’m trying to make here…

Lee Best: Which is…….?

Ryan Faze: I don’t just plan on winning War Games… I guarantee that I’m winning War Games. I just wanted to make sure that you were comfortable with that.

Lee Best: Why the fuck wouldn’t I be? You know damn well how important this match is to me. A victory from the team is a victory for me… how difficult is that to understand?

Ryan Faze: Oh, it’s not! Trust me, I know more than anyone what the implications of this match mean for not just you, but a lot of people. It’s just… well, we both know that I am the future of this company whereas guys like Jatt and Mark O’Neal – guys who you share a storied history with here in HOW – are nearing the end of their careers. And Kael and ChristPlow? Let’s be honest, both are about as unpredictable as the Mega Millions, so who knows what the fuckers will be capable of come Pearl Harbor…

Lee Best: Watch it, Faze. That’s my biological son that you’re talking about…

Ryan Faze: Trust me, Lee… I mean no disrespect towards you or to ChristPlow. If anything, I have you to thank for all the success I’ve had under your tutelage. My tenure as your hand-selected General Manager speaks for itself and as a two-time LSD champion, it’s clear that I’m becoming a legend in this business right before your very eyes.

Lee Best: Legend? Let me guess you been watching Aceldama self motivational videos?

Before Faze can respond Lee puts his hand up in the air and stops Ryan before he can speak.

Lee Best: Enough of the dick waving. Look I know you are good enough to win War Games, and I know you are good enough to hold onto that title longer than Shane Reynolds Junior..aka David Black. You will prove this at War Games when that LSD Title will be on the line in the War Games match.

Ryan Faze: I have no …

Lee Best: Problem? Of course you don’t…cause you will win War Games and the stipulation of whoever eliminates you wins the LSD Title wont matter…but while I got you here….I got something to tell ya…involves the go home show….

Before Lee finishes his sentence he motions at the cameraman to leave and as the crew exit the office we hear a final few words from Faze before the door shuts fully.

Monday? GM? Phenomenal.”

Turmoil heads to a commercial break as the scene fades to black.


Aceldama©, David Black , Shane Reynolds, Scottywood, Crow and Marcus Reinhardt vs. Simon Sparrow, Max Kael, Mark O’Neal, ChristPlow© and Ryan Faze©

Ethan Cavanaugh vs. Christopher America©

Mario Maurako vs. Bobbinette Carey


Mark O’Neal vs. Crow
Singles Match

Back at ringside, former World Champion Crow is seen entering the squared circle as ‘Come With Me’ by Puff Daddy is cut off by ‘Give it Away’ by the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Joe Hoffman: Whoa-ho! Tremendous entrance by the ‘Explosive One’ Mark O’Neal, who will look to right the ship here tonight against Crow.

The explosion of fireworks and pyro that Joe was referring to come to a halt as the Inaugural War Games winner walks out onto the stage, looking slightly a bit hesitant given his recent losing streak and the caliber of his opponent.

Benny Newell: I told you before, Joe… Marky Mark was high when he faced JPube or whatever the fuck his name is. He should have no problem here tonight against that jobber in the ring.

Joe Hoffman: JOBBER?!? That’s a potential Hall of Famer you’re talking about, Benny!

Benny Newell: So? Lynx is in the Hall of Fame too and you don’t hear anyone talking about him! Fuck it. I’m not about to argue with your ass over something that’s blatantly obvious.

Joe Hoffman: Well I would disagree whole-heartedly with your claim that Crow is a ‘jobber’, but I suppose we’ll all find out how he fares tonight against O’Neal.

With both men in the ring, referee Matt Boettcher calls for the bell as Crow lunges forward, engaging in a tie-up with the ‘Explosive One’. Quickly, the battle of strength turns to O’Neal’s favor as he forces Crow to the corner, releasing him violently into the turnbuckle. This doesn’t sit to well with Crow, who moves to strike Mark O’Neal, but gets blocked. Instead, Mark retaliates with a vicious slap across the face; one that draws some ‘ohhhhs!’ from the Kallisten Coliseum crowd as O’Neal ducks another punch and connects with a hard German suplex.

As both men pop to their feet, it becomes obvious that anything Crow throws at O’Neal isn’t working as a Sidewalk Slam from Mark plants the former World champion on his back.

Joe Hoffman: Perhaps the pep talk from Ryan Faze paid off! Mark O’Neal is – for the lack of a better term – annihilating Crow in this match!

Benny Newell: SEE?!?! I fucking told you, Joe!

With Crow slow to get up, O’Neal measures some additional offense by planting him right back down with a Diamond Cutter. A Jackknife Powerbomb later, Crow finds himself in a pinning predicament as O’Neal applies a Lateral Press.

Benny Newell: ‘Time Bomb’ by O’Neal! Chalk it up for Team Best, baby!

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner by way of pin fall in 1:35… MARK ‘THE EXPLOSIVE’ O’NEAL!!!

Joe Hoffman: To say that victory was decisive would be an understatement as Mark O’Neal wins a big match here on Turmoil!

The action cuts away from the announcers and heads backstage…


Did someone say Scrabble?

Cutting backstage we are inside the locker room of “The Hardcore Artist” Scottywood where we see Scottywood and Frankie the Cameraman sitting at a table, which on It has a Hasbro made Scrabble board sitting on it as Scotty starts placing letters on the board for his turn.

Scottywood: C…O…N…T…R…A…C…T…. Contract, that’s 16 points plus my 50 for using seven tiles, so 66 points.

Frankie: How do you always score so many points Scotty?

Scottywood: because I play more than three letter words. But it’s ok because our HOW World champion doesn’t know big words… or at least the word contract. You see Ace… I don’t have to play your fuckin little games of manipulation and superiority. I have an iron clad contract signed my Lee Best that says I will be apart of War Games as the 6th man for whatever team I wished. So you can take your little 24 hour deadline and shove it up your German ass. You can try and use that World title as a bargaining chip, but the fact is I don’t really care what you may want to do with it after War Games, because when I win War Games flat out then I will claim that World title for myself and you can suck on your pacifier and cry about how nobody wants to be a team player.

Frankie: Speaking of, where did you place my pacifier?

Scottywood: Did you drop it in the toilet bowl of AMP again?

Frankie: I could have.

Scottywood: You really need to stop drinking out of it, it’s kind of creepy. I mean do you know where that AMP is supposed to be flowing from?

Frankie doesn’t answer as he jumps up onto the toilet bowl of the statue and dunks his head in, only to moments later pull it out, AMP soaked and with pacifier in hand.

Scottywood: Wow…. Anyhow Ace the facts are that War Games may have two teams, but only one person can claim that World title, and in the end everyone will be looking out for themselves so they can hold that coveted belt. So just try and throw me off your War Games team, I’ll have more lawyers up your ass then Mike Best could have ever of imagine… something, something, go fuck his soul.

Suddenly we hear the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway as the cameraman makes his way over to the door. It seems to be James Ranger, already in wrestling attire walking with some purpose. His eyes hidden behind his tinted sunglasses, in his left hand is a clipboard holding some flyers. He sighs a bit before stopping in front of the stone statue of Scottywood sitting down, the ever present sound of AMP soda flowing into the toilet, causing James to shake his head sideways in pity. He raises his hands to his lips…

James Ranger: Mister Scottywood! Hope you’re not too busy in there as I have some important business to go over with you. I understand you have a big match tonight, but so do I. So this shouldn’t take too long, just a few questions.

Scottywood: Well I am in the middle of this game of Scrabble, but I am kickin’ Frankie’s ass, so I guess I can take some time out for a HOW reporter.

James immediately takes offense, raising his sunglasses above his head as he steps forward, some flyers falling off the clipboard.

James Ranger: Look here buddy, for I am not some rinky-dink reporter. I actually have a name….and what i am doing is for the better good of this organization.

Scottywood: Congratulations, you have a name! Join the other 7 billion humans on the planet. So now that we have established that, why don’t you get to your point of this visit, your bettering of this organization.

James Ranger: Fine then. First off Mister Scottywood, with War Games looming around the corner…..how do you fare your chances of winning the match?

Scottywood: Well as I just said to Ace “butt hurt” dama, I plan on walking out of War Games the sole and out right winner. So I guess my chances of winning the match are perfect since it is a certainly that The Hardcore Artist will leave Pearl Harbor as the new HOW World Champion.

James quickly writes this down on the flyer marked for Scottywood, repeating some the words to himself for amusement. He clears his throat and flashes a smile.

James Ranger: So there is no chance of you picking someone else to be the HOW World Champion? I mean…so many of them never having the chance to…grace you with their presence. It must be something else.

Scottywood: Why the fuck would I pick someone else if I won the damn match? Unlike the views of Aceldama, the HOW World title shouldn’t be a charity prize that just gets handed to people. You need to WIN IT!!

James Ranger: So how do you….

??: —Whoa….whoa. Cease and desist. No more questions.

Perplexed at the off-camera interruption, Scottywood and James Ranger stare at each other for a moment, silently. And then turn to face the same direction as a newcomer bursts onto the scene – knocking slightly into Scotty as he comes into view.

Scottywood: What the fuck do you want?

He asks, bitterly, as the camera pulls back to get all three men into the scene: James Ranger….Scottywood….and Shane Reynolds.

Shane Reynolds: C’mon now, is that anyway to talk to your team-mate. Especially when I’ve gone out of my way to find you.

Scotty sighs.

Scottywood: Okay! Fine! Let me rephrase: what the FUCK do you want? Can’t you see I’m…. well somewhat busy.

Shane turns now, following the nod of Scottywood’s head, and finally notices the third man.

Shane Reynolds: Who are you?

James Ranger: I’m James Ranger…..Nice to meet you, Mr. Reynolds.

His hand goes up into a handshake, which Shane promptly takes into his own and shakes.

Shane Reynolds: The guy who challenged Mike Plow for the ICON championship?

James Ranger: That’s right.

Shane Reynolds: Well….commiserations on your loss.

James Ranger: The match hasn’t happened yet!

Shane suddenly feels that the handshake has ceased and the man known also as Black Mamba has fixed him with an intense stare.

Shane Reynolds: Okay, my apologies. Just save those sentiments until later then.

He turns back to Scottywood before Mamba can reply, pissing the man off even more with ignorance and implication his defeat was inevitable.

Shane Reynolds: I came to offer you a chance Scotty – in the wake of recent developments regarding our team situation. As detestable as Aceldama is, he’s right. We need to be a team – a cohesive unit. And as self-proclaimed General, I’ve made it one of my duty to make sure that happens. Hence my opportunity to you.

Scottywood: What opportunity?

Shane reaches out and places a solitary hand on Scotty’s shoulder. An action the latter clearly doesn’t appreciate. Their eyes lock, Shane’s looking solemn and serious.

Shane Reynolds: The opportunity… to apologize.

Scotty snaps now and shrugs the hand off of his shoulder and yells in Shane’s face.

Scottywood: Apologize? What the fuck for?

Shane Reynolds: Do you really need me to go and get footage. For costing us the match against Sparrow and Plow last week. Obviously.

Scottywood: Fuck you, emo-boy! You think it’s my fault we lost? Maybe if you tagged-in and actually helped, we might not have lost. You should be apologizing to me!

Shane Reynolds: Me apologize? Just because you couldn’t fight your own battles and keep either of them down long enough to make a damn tag. Hell no!

Scottywood: Well, you’re damn well not getting one from me. You’re lucky I don’t go and get my hockey stick and add a few fresh cuts to your collection.

Shane Reynolds: And you’re lucky I’m a General now and trying to keep this team together for War Games. Otherwise I’d take my boot and kick you in the fucking groin. Then it wouldn’t matter whether you’re sitting or standing… because you’ll be pissing through a fucking tube into a fucking bag.

Scottywood: Fuck you Reynolds, just try it and see how far that gets you!

A sigh is heard next, departing from the lips of the still present James Ranger, clearly frustated now.

James Ranger: Guys…Guys….Guys!

Both men turn towards Ranger, only to receive a simultaneous slap from both of his hands.

James Ranger: Shut the fuck up….both of you. I don’t have time for this shit. I’ve got a championship to win.

And with that, Ranger barges between both men and heads off down the corridor. Both Shane and Scotty turn to follow him as he goes, wearing identical expressions of rage.

Shane Reynolds: Son of a bitch hit me.

Scottywood: ….And me.

Shane Reynolds: He’s lucky you don’t go and get your stick and bust his head open.

Scottywood: And he’s lucky you don’t shove those boots up his ass.

Both men look at each other. The sudden agreement just uttered still echoes in each other’s ears for a few moments, before giving way to their previous expressions of contempt as they then break away and head off in different directions.


ICONic Press Conference

Pre-Recorded Footage: Earlier today

The low, one story building is used to it’s fair share of protesters. On any given day, of any given week, of any given– well, you get it– it’s not unusual for the ranch style office to be surrounded with handfuls of sign wielding, megaphone toting psychopaths and members of the religious right. They wave banners, scream insults and jeers, and scare off potential clients from the time the building opens until the time it closes. Today, however– today takes the fucking cake. For nearly half a city block, gangs of protesters have been preparing for hours… pandering for position, crafting home made signs, and readying battle-crys. What’s so important about today?

Well, nothing in particular. The lawn has been mowed. A podium has been set up in front of the main entrance. And the real source of the controversy? In place of the old, inconspicuous sign that has sat in front of the building for the last ten years, a new one has been erected. In bright, flashing neon and displaying a giant crucifix, the airbrushed visage of ICON Champion and all-around horrible human being ChristPlow can be seen giving a singular thumbs up– in his other hand, he holds a placard displaying the name of the business:

ChristPlow’s House of Abortions & Assisted Fetal Suicide


Brought to you by the First Church Of Lee Best

Armed guards stand protecting the sign, which has been the subject of much violence over the course of the last several hours. Since construction, no less than fifteen glass bottles, twenty two tomatoes (who the hell throws tomatoes anymore?), and one ill-manufactured molotov cocktail that never quite ignited. Seven arrests, eighteen citations, and over three dozen warnings have been issued in just three hours– and the man of the moment hasn’t even arrived yet.

Or has he? A large limosine sits idling near the front drive, as it has for the last five minutes. The camera focuses in on the tinted window, but cannot seem to get a glimpse at the inside. From the front passenger side, two armed guards make their exit from the vehicle first, clearing out the crowd forming around the car and forcing them to get back behind the velvet ropes set up around the front sidewalk. From the front door, another guard appears, rolling out a long red carpet from the podium and up to the back passenger door of the car.

ChristPlow: Look at that, a little bit of advertising goes a long way. Who’d have thought there were so many pregnant bitches in Chicago?

The words, of course, come from the ICON Champion, who steps from the back of the limo after one of the guards opens the door for him. His feet drop down onto the red carpet, and as soon as his face can be seen over the car door, the screams of the crowd grow even angrier.


A laugh escapes the Prophet of Profits, who takes the chant as if they are indeed chanting his own name. With a little half bow, he begins to march up the red carpet toward the podium– it’s obvious from the large bulge in his robe that he has indeed worn a Kevlar vest. Near the back of the robe, the distinctive bulge of a handgun can be seen protruding from his waistline. Shortly behind the ICON Champion, HOW newcomer Kelly Flawless emerges from the vehicle, waiving off the armed guard who attempts to escort him.

Flawless: Please. I’ll sock a bitch in the throat.

Kelly quickly catches up to MPlow, who takes his place behind the podium. Flawless stands next to him, a childlike smile on his face as he admires the signage towering over the clinic. After a moment, a smirking ChristPlow takes the microphone.

ChristPlow: Ladies, please… I can assure you that there will be plenty of time to void the contents of your uteruses– uteruses? Maybe it’s uteri? Whatever it is, I can assure you that the new and improved ChristPlow’s House of Abortions And Assisted Fetal Suicide is well equipped to take care of your child disposal needs. Our policy here at the C.H.A.A.F.S. is that a good abortion clinic is like a good airport– we have plenty of hangers for your convenience.

The roar of the crowd is almost deafening. Angry death threats, slurs, and all out hate speech is being flung in the direction of the ICON Champion, which he seems to take pretty well in stride.

ChristPlow: Folks, please– one at a time. I know you’re all eager to get the yeast out of those bread boxes, but I do have to ask for your courtesy and patience while we get through this ribbon cutting ceremony. Before I get all long winded on everyone, I would like to introduce a very special guest speaker. He is one of my best friends in this great big world, and a bit of an expert on the subject at hand– in fact, he’s known to be the cause of most abortions on the eastern seaboard. He is my partner in crime, my future best man, and the newest member of my High Octane family– it is my pleasure to introduce KELLY…. FLAWLESS!

MPlow beings to frantically applaud KFlaw, hoping it will rally the rest of the crowd. You COULD say he succeeds, as they begin to rally even harder against one of the most sexist, horrible human beings in the history of professional wrestling– nay, the world. Flawless takes a bow, smiling at their hatred as he steps in front of the podium, taking the microphone.

Flawless: Thanks, sexy. Soooo… lotsa bitches here today. Thanks for coming out. Wannnna know a secret? Two years ago, I was down in Jacksonville. Fuck knows why, cause there’s NOTHING in Jacksonville. Anyway, I stumbled into this bar with one of my buddies. His name’s Rick, I think you’ve met him. He’s actually changed his name to Sarah and doesn’t look ANYTHING like he did before, but whatevs. Anyway, we’re out at this titty bar, gettin’ some titty all up in our face, and I ended up picking up this filthy little slut. I’m talkin’ a flat – out – DITCH – PIG. Anyway, about three months afterwards she calls and says she’s preg-o. I’m ‘WHAAAAT?’ She’s like, ‘yuh.’ I’m like, ‘KILL IT.’ She’s all like, ‘AIGHTTT.’ So, I fly down there and go to the clinic with her — chivalry ain’t dead, yo. Anyway, we head inside, she gets hangered real good and I’m all like, ‘PHEW, another disaster averted.’ So, afterwards, the doc comes out, and — APPARENTLY — they give you a fucking disposal option. I was like, ‘WAT. THUH. FACK?’ Doc’s like, ‘yeahhh, so what’d ya wan’ do with it.’ This is where the story gets kind’a strange… I was all high `n shit on some `scription pills, so I, uh… I took it home with me. I guess what I’m trying to say is there’s a fetus in my closet. Thank you.

There is absolute silence from the crowd, for the first time in hours. Several jaws are gaping open in the front few rows, at least that the camera can pick up. With a heartfelt smile, Kelly backs away from the podium, shaking hands with ChristPlow, who gives him the sole round of applause in the entire venue.

ChristPlow: Thank you Kelly. I think we’ve all been there, haven’t we folks? Now, that was a great story, but it’s all about the past– this morning is about the future. It’s about change, ladies and– more ladies. It’s about opening the first side project of the First Church of Lee Best. It’s about showing the world that abortion is sometimes exactly the way that God wants things. And who better to tell you what God wants than his only son?

The crowd begins to boo, screaming for his head.

Crowd Member: YOU’RE NOT JESUS!

The rest of the crowd jumps in as well, as a “YOU’RE NOT JESUS” chant begins to echo over the city block.

ChristPlow: Who said anything about Jesus? You know, the more I have sat and prayed, the more I have realized that I was talking to dead air. Belief in some almighty, overseeing higher power is like believing in the white noise on your television screens. It’s a hopeless religion for the hopeless masses– and all this time, I have been leading my lambs in the wrong direction. Maybe I am the reincarnate– but maybe I’m not. Your words will not hurt me though, heathens, because here today I am letting the world know that I am no longer focusing on the second coming of Christ, but the FIRST coming of ChristPlow!

The boos intensify.

ChristPlow: Oh please. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone– honestly.

A rock flies up from the crowd, crunching MPlow right in the side of the head. He doubles over, holding his face as guards rush a man within the crowd– he’s wearing a priest’s frock and looking very, very angry.

ChristPlow: Alright– guess I sorta had that coming. What can ya do, right? Oh wait, my building, my press conference– GET HIM THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!

The guards grab the priest by his arms, one of them punching him in the stomach as they drag him away from the crowd. The uproar intensifies from the crowd, but MPlow simply turns up his microphone.

ChristPlow: Shut up. I’m done being polite. Look at you people! A bunch of Bible thumping virgins who can’t listen to the man sent to lead them into the promised land? LEE BEST IS A GOD YOU CAN SEE WITH YOUR OWN EYES! He is truly the Father, and I am his son. He’s a God you can talk to! He’s a God you can take solace in seeing on your television screens each week. He’s even a God you can TOUCH! Though, I mean, I’d watch that. And in his image, and in the image of his only son, we open for you today an abortion clinic that the cynical and religious need not fear. We open a place that women can go, to avoid the mistakes that mother’s past have made– Aceldama, Shane Reynolds, James Ranger… these are men who’d have served a better life sitting in Kelly Flawless’ closet, or sitting in the bottom of a dumpster. It is illegal to stab Crow and Mark Reinhardt in the back of the head with a pair of scissors now, yes– but with your help, we can guarantee that it will ALWAYS be legal to get the job done while they remain in the womb! Your Savior… YOUR JESUS… believes in abortion! He believes in a better life for mother’s who had a little bit too much to drink at a party! He believes that life doesn’t have to end for a bachelor, just because pull and pray failed him. The Catholic Church condemns the use of condoms, but doesn’t allow abortions? FUCK THAT! Here at the First Church of Lee Best, we are HAPPY to condemn condoms, and supply HALF PRICE ABORTIONS TO OUR PARISHIONERS! Don’t just pray, heathens– PULL AND PRAY! And do so with the knowledge that God smiles upon your actions. Do so with the knowledge that–

He is cut off, suddenly. From the crowd, a woman emerges from the front row, wielding in her hands a legitimate handgun. She chambers a round, aiming the gun straight away at the face of the ICON Champion, who’s guards are too busy holding the crowd at bay to stop what’s coming….

Woman: Before the TRUE God Jesus, I do this in the Lord’s name. A…. MEN.


As the feed on the HOV comes to an end we cut to commercial break as the fans are literally buzzing from what they just seen.

Special post show HOR after Turmoil

HOFC Title Match
Kelly Flawless vs. Christopher America
Last Man Standing Match

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back to Thursday Night Turmoil! As you can see, High Octane rookie Kelly Flawless is already in the ring, ready to make his debut against HOFC champion Christopher America with the title on the line! Tell me, Benny… when was the last time we saw someone debut in a title match here in HOW?

Benny Newell: BUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP! Ho-ho… MAN! I’ve had that one brewing since the beginning of the show!

Joe Hoffman: Well, since Benny is not going to be of any help, let’s turn things over to the ring, where Referee Rick ‘Even’ Stevens is ready to call this Last Man Standing title match.

Suddenly, the ‘American National Anthem’ blares out across the arena until its replaced by ‘Remember the Name’; the HOFC champion Christopher America strolling out from behind the curtain. Flanked closely by Ethan Cavanaugh, America poses at the top of the entrance ramp, where an explosion of red, white, and blue fireworks blast over him. Unfortunately, Cavanaugh pushes him forward as if to hurry things along; wanting nothing more than to see America suffer before their anticipated title match at War Games.

Climbing into the ring, America hands Stevens the 3/5ths title belt before he assumes his pre-match stretching routine. All the while, KFlaw shares a few choice words with him across the ring until Stevens steps between them, ensuring that both men are ready to start the match. Upon confirming so, Christopher America obliterates Kelly Flawless, smashing him over the head with a hard American punch upon the sound of the ring bell.

Joe Hoffman: Christopher America with an American Lou Thesz Press and a flurry of American right hands to start this match…

Mounting his opponent for leverage, America displays his relentlessness as he continues punching Kelly Flawless, all the while Cavanaugh watches closely from the outside. Already on his heels, KFlaw tries to shield himself from the blows, but America proves to be too much in delivering an American Head Butt that knocks Flawless cold. Satisfied with the damage he’s inflicted thus far, America nods to Stevens who quickly administers the 10-count.

Joe Hoffman: Remember folks, this match is being contested under Last Man Standing rules, as you see Flawless there, trying to rise to his feet…

Benny Newell: The fucker should just stay down, Joe… it’ll save himself the embarrassment.

Christopher America’s initial onslaught proves to net him a 6-count before KFlaw stands to his feet, using the ropes for assistance. Not wanting to relinquish his momentum, America charges at Flawless, who instinctively ducks and sends the America over the top rope.

Joe Hoffman: Oh! And look… Cavanaugh is waiting there to feast on the champion!

Benny Newell: You mean his slave?

As described by the announcers, Ethan gets in a few cheap shots by laying his boot into America until Stevens orders him away. Sliding out of the ring himself, Flawless retrieves his opponent and smacks America’s head into the ring post before tossing him back into the ring.

Benny Newell: America needs a shot of good ole’ American whiskey. That’ll cure that headache that he’s bound to get right up.

Joe Hoffman: Seriously? You’re really suggesting that alcohol will actually help someone’s headache?

Benny Newell: What? It helps my hangover every morning!

Back to their feet inside the ring, America staggers in the direction of Kelly Flawless, who taunts the HOFC champion and boasts his arrogance to the crowd. As Christopher stumbles within striking distance, Flawless boots him in the gut before setting him up for a Sit-Down Powerbomb, only for America to reverse it into an American Tornado DDT!

Joe Hoffman: Huge counter by the champion!

With both men needing a few moments to recover and catch their breath, it becomes a race of who can get to their feet first as Flawless draws back to his knees, just as America does to his. With the champion up first, Flawless is a second too late in mounting his offense as Christopher traps him into the Hero’s Welcome setup.

Christopher America & Crowd (in unison): FOR AMERICA!

Joe Hoffman: America hits his finisher! Could this be it, Benny?

Benny Newell: I’ve seen others get up from less, but I guess we’ll find out.

Fervent in trying to continue his assault, America is held back by Referee Rick ‘Even’ Stevens, who orders the champion away from Kelly Flawless so that he can properly administer the 10-count. As he’s doing this, Ethan Cavanaugh slips into the ring with Christopher’s HOFC title belt and blasts Kelly Flawless over the head with it, producing a gash on his forehead before he slips back out of the ring again.

Joe Hoffman: What the-?!? But why?!?

Benny Newell: Think about it, jackass… the ‘Shadow of HOW’ is making sure America retains for their War Games pay-per-view match! Genius move on his part, if you ask me…

Turning his back away from the ring, Cavanaugh maintains an innocent expression as Rick ‘Even’ Stevens counts to ten, securing the victory for the HOFC champion, Christopher America.

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner… and STILL the High Octane Wrestling HOFC champion… CHRISTOPHER AMERICA!!!

Joe Hoffman: Genius?!? He completely tainted America’s victory here tonight!

The action cuts backstage…


Post Match Heat

Joe Hoffman: What? What’s going on?

The darkness stays for a moment before the HOV screen flickers to life. The words “Please Stand By” fades in and out before the HOV switches to a black and white shot of Cavanaugh sitting in an armchair. The crowd immediately begins booing as Cavanaugh looks down at them all.

Cavanaugh: Last week, my Slave did something completely unforgivable. He raised a hand to his social and genetic superior, even though his pathetic excuse for a friend was defeated by me. Even though I defeated a former World Champion, I clearly will not be able to deal with my future here in High Octane Wrestling until I break Christopher America once and for all. See, you all cling to him in order to try and avoid the lessons I teach you. But as I have said, you will learn. You will learn exactly whether you want to or not.

The crowd begins a ‘You Suck’ chant as Cavanaugh reclines in the chair, rubbing his chin in thought.

Cavanaugh: At War Games I will enter America’s world and take from him something that he has used to define him. At War Games I will defeat America for the HOFC Championship and I will do it in a way that eliminates his decrepit DNA once and for all. I promised I would destroy the very memory of Christopher America in HOW and I am, once he is reduce in that ring to a pile of barely human ashes. Christopher, my slave, my property, you will meet your end in a match that I have decided for you: an Inferno Match. These people will watch in horror as their hero bleeds and burns for them. And in the end, when I am holding the championship over your charred remains you will all understand just who you are…and who you ought to be. At War Games, I will leave as HOFC Champion at all cost.

Turmoil goes to commercial as the HOV fades out from a smiling Cavanaugh.


Aceldama©, David Black , Shane Reynolds, Scottywood, Crow and Marcus Reinhardt vs. Simon Sparrow, Max Kael, Mark O’Neal, ChristPlow© and Ryan Faze©

Ethan Cavanaugh vs. Christopher America©

Mario Maurako vs. Bobbinette Carey


Black Intentions

Back from commercial “Planet Hell” by Nightwish starts playing as David Black walks out onto the stage dressed in a long black hooded robe, with Father Michael close behind him, holding a bible in his hands. They get a mixed reaction from the crowd as the start down the entrance ramp toward the ring.

Benny Newell: Oh crap!

Joe Hoffman: What?

Benny Newell: Time for another fucking sermon…wake me up where they are done!

About halfway down the ramp they stop, turn around and look back toward the stage as four more hooded men roll a casket out from the backstage area.

Joe Hoffman: What the–

Benny Newell: Who died?

Father Michael leads the way as he and Black make their way up the steel steps and into the ring, while the four hooded men continue rolling the casket down the ramp toward the ring. Father Michael stands near the ropes, pointing where he wants the casket to be placed, and the hooded men position the casket just beside the ring on the entrance ramp side. Father Michael calls for a mic, as the four hooded men remain outside the ring, standing near the casket as the music is cut off. Father Michael walks to the middle of the ring, with Black standing menacingly behind him.

Father Michael: Over the past several weeks we have tried to make you people see the truth of things. We have tried to make you understand why people like David and myself are needed, not only in this company, but in this world. We have tried to make you see the error of your ways and we have, unselfishly, offered you all a helping hand. All you had to do was reach out and grab it and we would have guided you back to the path of light. And what did you do?

He pauses shortly as the crowd boos.

Father Michael: You decided to spit in our faces!!! To laugh and mock and ridicule! We offered you everything! We offered all of you a chance of a new and better life and you all threw it away without giving it a second thought! I do not know if it is the influence of the Devil, or simply your own weakness that made it so, but it is of no consequence now. Through your actions and your arrogance you have all literally dug your own graves. I think it is sad that it has come to this, but you have left us with no other choice.

Father Michael glances down at the casket standing outside the ring.

Father Michael: I am sure you have all noticed that we have brought a little something with us to the ring tonight. It is a casket and you will all be seeing alot of those in the near future. We came here with an honest, earnest wish to save as many of the people on the HOW roster as we possibly could, including staff members. We wanted to change things for the better here, but it has become painfully obvious and clear to me, that that is just not possible anymore. This entire place, all of High Octane Wrestling, is beyond redemption and thus Final Judgment must come to each and every single soul in this place. And we are starting TONIGHT!!!

Joe Hoffman: I don’t like the sound of that.

The snoring of Benny Newell is heard as Father Michael continues.

Father Michael: We have given both Vince Jones and Michael Norcia their Final Judgment but tonight…tonight the real cleansing begins. Tonight yet another sinner will be given his Final Judgment and then…then he will be put into this very casket, the lid will be closed and he will be wheeled out of here and into the eternal darkness, never to be seen or heard from again. And next week another will follow, and then another, and another…and this will continue until we bring this place to it’s knees!

The crowd boos again.

Father Michael: The only way to save this place, to truly save it…is to burn it to the ground! The only question remains…who shall be the first to enter the eternal darkness?

Father Michael motions to one of the hooded men outside the ring and the hooded man hands him a black leather sack.

Father Michael: Inside this sack are pieces of paper. Each of them has a name of an HOW employee written on it. So what I am going to do now, is reach into this sack, grab a piece of paper and the person who’s name is on that piece of paper will indeed be put into this casket before the night is out.

Father Michael opens the leather sack, reaches inside and pulls out a single piece of paper. He holds the tiny piece of paper high in the air.

Father Michael: The Lord has chosen!!! And the first sinner to be sent into the eternal darkness will be…

He unfolds the piece of paper and looks at it. His eyes widen noticeably as he reads the name.

Father Michael: Clearly there must be some mistake…

Father Michael throws the piece of paper on the floor and pulls another one from the sack. While he is doing that the camera zooms on the piece of paper on the ring floor, it reads “Father Michael”. Father Michael unfolds the next piece of paper and looks at it. A look of anger appears on his face as he reads the name.

Father Michael: What the hell is going on here?

He angrily pulls out several more pieces of paper from the sack and reads the names on them. They all have the same name written on them; Father Michael. Father Michael looks at the four hooded men outside the ring with disdain.

Father Michael: Is this some kind of joke? Who dares to do something like this? SHOW YOURSELF!!!

There is no response or reaction from any of the hooded men at ringside, which further angers the already irate Father Michael. He yells some more insults at the four hooded men at ringside before turning around–


Joe Hoffman: What the heck??? David Black just hit the Blackout on Father Michael!!!

The crowd is unsure how to react as Black stands over the unconscious Father Michael, staring down at him. Black takes off the black robe he was wearing and throws it on he ground as the crowd gives a mixed reaction to Black, who is now dressed in black jeans and a black shirt.

Joe Hoffman: I don’t understand this at all!

Black looks at the four men outside the ring and motions for them to open the lid of the casket, and they do so as Black rolls Father Michael toward the casket. He rolls him all the way to the edge of the ring and finally gives him the last push from the ring and into the casket. He then picks up the black robe and throws it into the casket with Father Michael, before closing the lid again, slamming it shut with great force. He does not have a mic but the cameras clearly pick up his words to the four hooded men.

David Black: Get that bastard out of here!

The four hooded men starts pushing the casket back up the ramp as Black calls for another mic and gets one.

David Black: Aceldama… I WILL have your back tonight, just as I will have your back at War Games. And not because that piece of crap said so–

He points toward the stage at the casket containing Father Michael just as it, and the hooded men, disappear into the backstage area.

David Black: But because I am telling you right now. Because I am giving you my word that I will do everything I can to make sure this team of yours functions as just that…a team. Why?–

He hesitates for a moment.

David Black: Because that is the decision that I have made.

Black drops the mic, leaves the ring and walks back up the ramp to another mixed reaction from the crowd.

Joe Hoffman: Folks I have no idea why, but we have just seen David Black take out his mentor, Father Michael, and put him in a casket.

Benny Newell: Maybe he just got sick of listening to him?

Joe Hoffman: Whatever the reason, David Black has certainly left us with more questions than answers here tonight. You have to wonder what lies next for the former LSD Champion… We’ll be right back.

Turmoil cuts to commercial.

Head over to EWTORCH.com and see the lists all your favorite HOW Superstars failed to rank

Scottywood vs. Max Kael
Singles Match

A close-up of Scottywood’s barbed-wire hockey stick brings us back from commercial break as the “Hardcore Artist” eagerly paces the ring, holding the weapon as he awaits his opponent. Suddenly, ‘The End is the Beginning of the End’ by the Smashing Pumpkins hits the speakers, prompting the crowd to rise to their feet to boo The Minister and former co-owner of HOW, Max Kael. However, Max fails to emerge out onto the stage, leaving the crowd, announcers, and Scottywood alike in a state of confusion.

Benny Newell: Uh oh, let’s hope that Lee’s not a team member short for War Games…

Joe Hoffman: There! From behind!

With Scottywood’s attention turned toward the entrance ramp, Max Kael suddenly slides into the ring behind him.

Joe Hoffman: ‘Witch Burner’ on Scottywood! Kael from out of nowhere!

With no other choice but to call for the bell, Referee Matt Boettcher slides into position as Max hooks both legs of Scottywood for the quick and immediate cover.

Joe Hoffman: One, two… THR-NO! Kick out by Scottywood! Max nearly stole a victory from the “Hardcore Artist”!

Caught off-guard and reeling from Kael’s finishing maneuver, Scottywood looks for his barbed-wire hockey stick but is cut off by Max, who connects with a Running Knee Strike that sends his Scotty right back down to the mat. Favoring his head in pain, Scotty is unable to avoid the ‘Arkham Hammer’ snap elbow drop he receives from Max that the Hall of Famer follows with yet another pin fall attempt.

Benny Newell: Pottywood kicks out again! Still, I’m telling you Joe, the Team Best ‘traitor’ has no fucking chance against Max…

Joe Hoffman: Well, as we properly welcome you back to Turmoil, you all are bearing witness to a re-match of sorts from this year’s Best Invitational Final, sans the presence of one, Ethan Cavanaugh.

Benny Newell: And what happened in that match, Joe?

Joe Hoffman: Max Kael won, but-

Benny Newell: EXACTLY! ‘Nuff said!

Back on the attack, Max lands a few Forearm Smashes before going for his ‘Great Maxi Chop’, which Scottywood blocks, catching Kael’s arm and lifting him into the air for an effective Samoan Drop. The momentum shift even draws a few cheers for the ‘Hardcore Artist’ as – after several strikes to Kael’s body – he climbs to the top rope for a rare Shooting Star Press. Leaping off, the fans gasp in amazement as Scottywood lands chest-first into the canvas; Max evading the maneuver with a sneer as he goes right back to work on his opponent. Evading a desperation ‘Game Misconduct’ from Scottywood, Max surprises him with his Lightning Spiral finisher.

Joe Hoffman: ‘Singularity’ by the Prime Minister!

Offering that trademark sinister grin of his, Max hooks the leg of Scottywood for the pin fall, as counted by referee Matt Boettcher.

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner by way of pin fall in 6:59… MAX KAEL!!!

Joe Hoffman: Max Kael has returned to HOW with a vengeance! And right in time for War Games, I might add I hear its finally time for us to hear from Mario after that horrific tragedy earlier today.



Missy Andrews is standing outside the locker room door of The Maurako Family. Missy Andrews knocks on the door but nobody answers. Mario walks up from behind Missy Andrews and startles her.

Mario Maurako: Looking for someone?

Missy Andrews screams but quickly regains her composure.

Missy Andrews: Actually yeah. I came to get a word from you about the health of your brother Martino.

Mario Maurako: Well Missy let me tell you what happened. Earlier today Matteo, Martino and I were walking down the street on our way back from getting a bite to eat. As we were going down the street some loud shots rang out, and the next thing I knew Martino was on the ground clutching the left side of his chest. I looked around but couldn’t figure out where the vehicle came from or who could have done this… I can only speculate right now.

Missy Andrews: Who do you think did it?

Mario Maurako: Are you serious? I didn’t think that was even a real question, but you’re standing there looking at me like that’s a serious question. Bobbinette of course! Over the last couple of weeks she has convinced Mosé to go back to school, which he did. She slept with my father to get him to grant her Maurako Island, and now his head is in the clouds. And now a reasonable person would only suspect that she just shot my brother.

Missy Andrews: So what are you going to do here tonight? You’re not scheduled for a match or anything-

Mario Maurako: Let’s just say that if Bobbinette Carey shows her face here tonight, she may not make it to War Games.

Missy Andrews: You know Mario, some people may say that you’re just getting what you deserve?

Mario Maurako: What I deserve? I’ve done nothing but positive things for Bobbinette Carey. If it wasn’t for me Bobbinette wouldn’t even know her own damn name. I took my arch enemy under my wing to help her through her most difficult time and this… this is how I’m being repaid. Does it sound like I’m getting what I deserve to you Missy?

Missy Andrews: Maybe.

Mario Maurako: You know Missy everyone wants to focus on what I’ve done. Let’s think about this for a moment. What if this whole time Bobbinette was using me?

Missy Andrews: Well that’s just crazy.

Mario Maurako: Is it? Is it Missy? I don’t think so, why else would she suddenly want Maurako Island?

Missy puts her hand up to her ear as if someone is talking to her via her ear piece.

Missy Andrews: Mario I’m getting word that Bobbinette Carey is actually on her way to the ring right now.

Mario smirks at the information he has received.

Mario Maurako: Marvelous… Time for War.

We transition to ringside as “Ruff Ryders Anthem” plays and a group of 5 men come walking out wearing black baggy jeans and are wearing Cavs jerseys on with black and red bandana’s across their arms. The men each stand on the sides of the stage. The crowd seems confused as finally the person their waiting on makes her way out and it’s Bobbinette Carey-Maruako. She’s sporting tight jeans with a cut up Cavs Jersey to fit her curves with a black leather pilot jacket over it. She joins her group of thuggish men and they all make their way to the ring.

Joe Hoffman: We’re looking at the new Bobbinette Carey-Maurako ladies and gentlemen, and I’m not so sure I like it.

Benny Newell: Excuse me while I drink myself into a coma.

Bobbinette Carey and her Gang enter the ring as one member stands by her side and the other four members take positions at each corner keeping on the lookout for Mario.

Bobbinette: Cut the fucking music.

The music stops abruptly, while the fans sit there unsure whether to boo or not.

Bobbinette: Boo fucking who! Oh no my brother was shot!

She says in a mocking tone pretending to wipe tears from her eyes, as she openly mocks Mario.

Bobbinette: The bullets were meant for you Mario but he caught a stray. I didn’t pull the trigger, Believe that! But he got what he deserved and you can come get your shit too. This would have been a hell of a lot easier if you just signed the damn papers. But no you couldn’t do that could you?

Bobbinette says as she paces around the inside of the ring.

Bobbinette: You reminded me I was from the hood, and well, you know how shit goes down in the hood. I rounded up my crew…

Crew: WORD!

She turns her head snapping at them to shut up.

Bobbinette: We hood for life, we be banging shit up and you don’t even know what hit you. Now your bitch ass could have avoided all this shit, but you wanted to try and get me. Well you try to get someone enough you get got with your ignorant self.

Her head bobs from side to side with attitude flaring, it’s true that she had found the inner ghetto side of her.

Bobbinette: So it’s just you and your pops, cause bro has a few bullet holes in him, and Mosé is back at college. I’ve been tryin’ ta do this to ya the WHOLE Fuckin’ time and it’s finally working.

Bobbinette places her arm around the gangster standing next to her.

Bobbinette: See me and my crew, we more than a family, we more than just a posse, this is straight up Hood shit!

She says as she points to each of the members of her new family.

Bobbinette: Growin’ up on the streets, I don’t remember jack shit about it. But I know I Got family and they got my back. And Mario you’re family’s seeming to get smaller and smaller, and all we need to do is get rid of grand dad-

Suddenly the crowd explodes with cheers as Mario runs down the ramp with Matteo walking behind him. Mario slides into the ring and Bobbinette’s Gang immediately start kicking him as Mario tries to get up from the canvas. The five men however aren’t able to keep Mario down. Mario gets to his feet and tosses one gangster over the top rope and to the floor. Mario turns and double clotheslines two of the other Gangsters as Bobbinette Carey backs herself off into the corner and watches the melee. Mario lifts a 4th Gangster up into a Military Press slam and tosses him over the top rope onto the other three gangsters. The final gangster hits Mario in the back with a double axe handle but the blow serves no damage to the irate Maurako. Mario stares at the gangster who decides to quickly leave the ring before Mario can get a hold of him.

The fans start to cheer as now there is only Mario and Bobbinette left in the ring. Mario quickly locates her in the corner and points at her much to the delight of the fans. Carey drops to her knees and begins to beg asking Mario to reconsider. Mario reaches down with his left hand and grabs a handful of weave and pulls Bobbinette to her feet.

Mario pulls his right hand way back ready to punch the hell out of Bobbinette Carey but stops when he notices she is laughing. Mario releases Bobbinette and turns to see what she’s laughing at and sees Matteo being held by the five gangsters that Mario ushered out of the ring. Before Mario can piece everything together though Bobbinette drops to her knees again and delivers a devastating low blow to Mario. Bobbinette slides out of the ring and grabs the microphone as she rejoins her gang.

Bobbinette: Once again Mario you have let your dumb ass emotions get out of control and you fell right into my trap. And now I’m free to put a cap in the ass of another Maurako… then at War Games I’ll fuckin’ end your cracker ass.

Bobbinette laughs evily as she takes a pistol from a gang member and pistol whips Matteo right there on the HOW ramp as we go to commercial.

Kostoff will be at the go home show..

Aborted Ending?

Pre-Recorded Footage….Finale


With a stiff kick to the ribs, the ICON Champion snarls at the woman lying on the ground before him. She lets out a half conscious whimper, clutching her stomach as tears rain down her face like– uh– rain. The gun she had previously attempted to fire at ChristPlow, slightly smaller than his own nine millimeter, lies a few feet away, held in place by the foot of an armed guard. Behind the woman, Kelly Flawless stands with a boot on the top of her head, keeping her face down on the pavement.

ChristPlow: Looks like we have our first client, folks. Drag her inside, I don’t care if there’s a fuckin’ baby in there or not… clean it the fuck out.

Flawless and the guards lift the woman off the ground, dragging her across the pavement and into the doors of the abortion clinic. Brushing off his robe, the defiant ICON Champion picks up her gun, tucking it into his waistband along with the other, before taking the microphone back.

ChristPlow: And now, I have two. Anyone else wanna take a shot at THE FUCKING JESUS OF HOW?!

He looks around the venue, a sick sneer on his face as the quiet crowd lowers their heads. Some of them begin to disburse.

ChristPlow: Yeah, get butt fucked, kids. Thanks for guaranteeing this little shindig makes national news. “CRAZY JESUS BITCH TRIES TO KILL AWESOME PROPHET”, more at fucking eleven. I tried to be nice– I tried to make this formal. But fuck yourselves… either get in here and get fucking coat hangered, get official “Pull And Pray” t-shirt, or else go home and read your Bibles. PS, I didn’t write those– a bunch of drunk fucks who capitalized off my death did. I’m done being the nicer, happier Jesus you fucking want. I’m done being funny, and cute, and giving you all shenanigans to talk about around the water cooler. I am the FIRST FUCKING COMING OF CHRISTPLOW, and I am bringing on an era you wouldn’t believe. Have faith, fucking heathens– ChristPlow is about to abort the fucking world.



Elementary Dear Watson

We go backstage, the camera focusing on a cavernous open book entitled ‘Learning Latin: For Really Smart People’; a well-groomed index fingernail enters frame, taps a particular word.

*Judicium – Justice*

The finger starts flicking through the pages, searching for the next word:

*Excellentia – Excellence*

Flick flick flick:

*Potissimus – Principle*

One more:

*Wisdomia – Wisdom*

Standing above the book is John Eric Peter Watson, his body covered only by a tiny white towel wrapped around his waist, wavy, thick black hair soaking wet, fresh shower suds still visible beneath his shaven armpits. Using his index and thumb to form a gun with his right hand, he ‘shoots’ himself in the mirror and, pearly white teeth positively beaming from behind pink lips, repeats to nobody in particular:

Judicium… Excellentia… Potissimus… Wisdomia… Man I’m clever. HOW doesn’t know its Latin from its labia, but JEPW… I’ll show them the way.”

At that moment, a thought seems to strike Watson – he mumbles under his breath and reaches for the cell phone on his desk. Speed dial: he calls his apartment number, but after a few seconds, it has rung through and gone to the familiar BEEP of the answer machine.

“Hey, dad. Thought you were coming to the show tonight? Fishing must be more fun than it looks I guess. Anyways, you get this message, phone me back.”

Features arranged into a slight frown, Watson tosses the phone back down and turns back to the mirror; he is about to pluck and shape his eyebrows when, out of the corner of his eye, he spots a small, perfectly folded square of white paper right next to his door. Presuming that somebody has covertly pushed it through the tight gap between door and floor, Watson quickly turns the handle and launches himself outside; but there is not a soul in sight, just the long, greystone Kallisten Coliseum walls and some technical equipment. He twists his mouth up nervously, unfolds the note and reads, in computer-typed font:

* Remember your objectives. You are becoming involved. Do not become involved. Victory or defeat is not the issue. Speak to nobody of the project. We shall be in touch. *

Watson lowers the note, still standing half-naked outside his room. He shakes his head as if perplexed, angered, disappointed by the note’s contents. What right do they have to tell him what to do, how to go about his business, his cause? And the risk involved in coming here, to the Coliseum, leaving a note lying around under his door…

But Watson’s thoughts are interrupted by the steady tap-tap of footsteps; nice pair of black patented leather shoes, slightly raised heels, laces tied neatly into little bows. Looking up to see their owner, Watson feels a surge of recognition; the man coming towards him, in a charcoal grey business suit, is Thomas Whitford.

Whitford, his face straight, quite symmetrical in its serenity, offers a hand. “Excuse me. I believe you’re John Watson?”

Watson, not taking up Whitford’s offer: “John Eric Peter Watson, actually. And you know exactly who I am.” Voice rising slightly, face starting to redden: “Why are you here? Does Lazarus have something to tell me? An apology for disrespecting me, for daring to fight me, for threatening my students?”

Taking a step back, Whitford shakes his head. There is something detached about him, alien, dispassionate; he barely bats an eyelid as he reaches into his pocket, pulls out folded piece of paper and holds it out for Watson. Inscribed on the top side of the paper is:

* John Eric Peter Watson *

For a moment, nothing happens but continued silence. Watson’s eyes dart around as if expecting to see somebody jump up from behind the corner; when nobody does, he lets out a loud, forced burst of laughter.

“What is this? My birthday? Are you joking?”

“My client wants you to read that. Goodbye, Mr. Watson.” With that, Whitford turns on his exquisitely polished heel and marches away, leaving Watson once more standing alone with a mystery note.

“Well, that was quite abrupt,” he mutters, unfolding the paper. And in seconds, the color which had been rising in Watson’s face is gone, as if wiped away by an off-white sheet; open-mouthed, he allows the open note to fall between his fingers to the floor, beginning to walk, jog and then sprint in the direction from which Whitford had come.

The cameraman, unable to keep up with JEPW, instead takes the opportunity to focus on the paper as it lies on the floor. As he zooms, we see a single line of blood-colored writing scrawled across the center of the page. It reads simply:

* Your father says ‘be seeing you’ *

Special Monday Night Mayhem show on May 24th where each match is for the Tag Team Titles


ICON Title Match
Black Mamba vs. Mike Best
Singles Match

Back at ringside, the Kallisten Coliseum crowd rises in anticipation for the second title match of the night as James ‘Black Mamba’ Ranger walks onto the stage wearing street clothes. With no theme music to speak of, Ranger heads straight for the ring where referee Joel Hortega performs a quick weapons check on the unemployed roster hopeful.

Benny Newell: What the hell?!? Doesn’t this bum know that we’ve got an ICON title match about to start?

Joe Hoffman: Uh, Benny… that’s James Ranger… you know, Mike Best’s challenger for tonight?

Benny Newell: Oh, the duck? For a second there, I thought Darkwing used his bus pass to bribe the arena security guards into the building. Either that, or he used his EBT card…

Joe Hoffman: Benny! That’s racial profiling!

Benny Newell: Joe! You’re being a pussy!

As Joe and Benny continue their back-and-forth argument, Black Mamba enters the ring to some cheers as “Jesus Freak” by DC Talk begins blaring throughout the arena. Quickly, Ranger’s cheers turn to boos for the ICON champion as Michael Vincent ‘MPlow’ ‘ChristPlow’ Plow Best emerges to his usual elaborate entrance. Gesturing the idea that he’s bound to win half of Ranger’s payroll cash, Joe is quick to remind us of what is on the line for both superstars as ChristPlow slides into the ring. With no hesitation, he hands the ICON title belt to Joel Hortega who dutifully presents it to Black Mamba and the crowd.

Joe Hoffman: MPlow’s looking confident tonight, Benny.

Benny Newell: It’s Mike Best now, you fucking idiot. Can’t you keep up with the times?

Joe Hoffman: Well, whatever his name is, there’s no doubting Mike’s talents in the ring as the veteran looks for yet another successful title defense here before War Games.

Benny Newell: Ranger’s out of his mind if he thinks he’s going to pull the upset. For fuck’s sake, Joe, the man is wearing jeans…

Suddenly, the sound of the ring bell sees Michael Best charge in the direction of Black Mamba, looking for that early cheap shot in hopes that he can end this match early and tend to other important tasks. Unfortunately for ChristPlow, Mamba is ready for him with a Hip Toss that sends him over the top and to the mat where Ranger is quick to follow up with an Arm Wrench submission.

Twisting the arm of ChristPlow, Mamba feeds off of the sudden cheers from the crowd and releases his opponent, pushing him forward before connecting with a Standing Dropkick to the back of MPlow’s head!

Joe Hoffman: The cover! One, two…

Benny Newell: NO!

Joe Hoffman: KICK OUT BY MIKE PLOW! Black Mamba nearly won the ICON championship by catching his opponent off-guard.

Thankful that it was only a near fall, Benny quickly pours himself a line of shots as it becomes clear to him that Mamba is more prepared for this match than perhaps he originally thought.

Pulling ChristPlow to his feet, Ranger lands a few stiff European Uppercuts before backing him down into a corner of the ring. Using his momentum, James whips his opponent to the opposite side of the ring, where the ICON champion connects with the turnbuckle, chest-first. Bouncing off hard, Plow falls backward to the mat in pain.

Benny Newell: Lookout!

Joe Hoffman: Oh! Ranger drops the knee… right into ChristPlow’s sternum! This could be it, Benny! One, two…! The champion barely kicks out! Black Mamba took the wind right out of him!

Exhaling deeply, Benny watches as the son of Lee Best reels on the mat. Urging his opponent to get up, Black Mamba hoists himself onto the middle rope and measures the distance between himself and ChristPlow. As the ICON champion turns, Ranger leaps off, this time using his elbow to knock Plow for a loop and right back down to the mat. With his opponent writhing in pain, Mamba calls out to the crowd for his ‘Venom’ submission finisher; their response quite favorable in hopes that he actually will pull the upset and defeat Michael Best.

Joe Hoffman: Ranger is looking for the Inverted Figure Four Leglock… looks like he’s got ‘em…

Benny Newell: No! The power of ChristPlow compels you!

Referring to the fact that Plow just kicked James Ranger in the groin, Benny rejoices by – what else? – drinking, all while ChristPlow is quick to capitalize on the sudden shift in momentum. With Ranger doubled over nursing his privates, Michael stands to his feet and connects with a debilitating Powerbomb; one that echoes throughout the arena as Ranger is slammed to the mat. Wasting no time whatsoever, ChristPlow turns it into a cover as Hortega is quick to slap his hand against the mat.

Benny Newell: YEAH! One, two… IT’S OVE-…whaaaaaaaaaaaat?

Sure enough, ChristPlow is just as surprised as Benny that Black Mamba is able to kick out, expressing a look of disbelief that draws some laughter and taunting from the crowd.

Joe Hoffman: You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that James Ranger was becoming an overnight fan-favorite here in HOW… all thanks to his match here tonight with the reviled, Mike Plow.

Benny Newell: It’s Best, you twat… Mike BEST! I’m gonna make you drink every time you fuck it up.

In an instant, ChristPlow’s disbelief turns to rage as he turns his attention and aggression to Ranger, who has rolled over to his knees, nursing the back of his head. Swiftly, he secures Black Mamba for his Styles Clash finishing maneuver and violently drops him to the canvas, turning him over for the pin fall.

Joe Hoffman: Christ Effect! One, two, three! Mike Best retains!

Benny Newell: Like there was ever any doubt…

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner by way of pin fall in 12:30… and STILL High Octane Wrestling ICON champion… MICHAEL ‘CHRISTPLOW’ BEST!!!

Snatching his title away from referee Joel Hortega, ChristPlow exits the ring with haste, wanting nothing more to do with Black Mamba; the man who just gave him a run for his money at the belt.


Pre Match Jatters?

The camera focuses in on blue lettering with white trim that reads “Ruler of Jattlantis”. The camera zooms out as Jatt Starr turns to face his wife Bethany, who is wearing a slim fitting referee shirt and tight black pants. Her black hair is pulled back in a ponytail and she obviously has a concerned look on her face.

In the background, Louis the Little Person (a cast on his hand, bandage on his head, and his face still heavily bruised) is sitting on the couch with the stroller in front him as Anakin naps.

Jatt Starr: I know you’re worried and it’s alright.

Bethany: Simon…Jatt….I don’t know if Louis is up to this. They just released him from the hospital yesterday.

Jatt Starr: He’ll be fine. Lee Best installed all of this great security equipment for me. And why? Because tonight marks the return of Jatt Starr….the Ruler of Jattlantis…the Sultan of Sea-Jattle…the Jattlantic City Idol…the—

Bethany: This return doesn’t mean anything unless you beat Aceldama for the title.

Jatt Starr: Oh come on! I’ll have Team Jattlantis at ringside! I have you counting the pinfall! What could possibly go—

Bethany: Don’t you dare finish that sentence!

Jatt Starr: Look, you don’t have to tell me how important this night is. Just last week, he brutalized Louis and kidnapped Anakin. He took something that I love and used it as leverage to get what he wanted, you as a referee…which I don’t get because it’s a dumbass move. You’re my wife! Unless he plans to attack you, in which case he wins the match by disqualification….and….keeps….the…..I think I need to talk to Lee Best….

Jatt Starr turns towards the door.

Bethany: To get me out of the match?

Jatt Starr spins around to face his wife.

Jatt Starr: No! To make it a no disqualification match!

Bethany: Are you out of your mind?!

Louis the Little Person: Relax Bethany! Jatt knows he doesn’t need a “No Disqualification” stipulation in the match!

Jatt Starr, confused, looks over at Louis the Little Person who is casually sitting on the couch.

Jatt Starr: I do?

Louis the Little Person: Of course! If there was no disqualifications, then all of those fucktards on Team Asshole-dama will interfere causing your retarded teammates to get involved causing the match to become a huge clusterfuck.

And besides, if that shiteater Marcus Reinhardt can make Aceldama his fucking bitch, Jatt can certainly defeat him for the HOW Title!

Jatt Starr: You’re right. If that nothing nimrod Marcus Reinfart can make Wolfgang Bruggemann his….what Louis said….then the King of Grapple from the Big Apple can certainly pin him! Heck! I’ve done it before! Well…I made him tap out….so, I guess pinning him would be something new.

But going back to what I was saying before….he took our child to get what he wanted, so in turn the Ratings Juggernaut known as Jatt Starr will take what Wolfgang Bruggemann loves….the HOW Title. First, the “Jattanese Golden Eagle” will—

Louis the Little Person: That name sucks elephant balls!

Jatt Starr: Fine! The name doesn’t matter! The outcome does! Tonight, the Hero of Jattlanta will end Wolfgang Bruggemann’s title reign…..and at “War Games”… the Ruler of Jattlantis will end his career, making S.C.A.T not CTU the premier defense against terrorism….and it would make me ten times cooler than Jack Bauer….no, no….make that ELEVEN times cooler than Jack Bauer!

Bethany: I’m still not comfortable about this.

Jatt Starr: You were an amateur kickboxer! He touches you or even looks at you wrong, nail him with a roundhouse kick or something, knocking him out, I’ll cover him, and you count to three. Hey….that’s actually a great plan! Let’s do that!

Bethany: I’m not going to cheat for you, Simon….Jatt.

Jatt Starr lifts up his left hand and points to the wedding band on his ring finger.

Jatt Starr: This means you have love, honor, and obey! The keyword there is OBEY.

Bethany takes her right hand and makes a fist as if she were squeezing the juice out of an orange with her bare hand.

Jatt Starr: What’s that?

Bethany: That’s me crushing your other testicle. The keyword there is Eunuch.

Jatt Starr: Okay, new plan. How about we—

Suddenly there is a beeping sound emanating from the locker room door, faint before but not growing louder.

Bethany: What the hell is that noise?

Jatt Starr: It’s my zombie detector that I had Lee install!

Bethany: A Zombie Detector? Really?

Jatt Starr: Trust me! It’s a great investment!

Bethany: How so?

Jatt Starr: Three words: Zombie Rubber Chicken!

Bethany: How about these three words? TURN IT OFF!!!

Bethany rolls her eyes at her husband who has moved next to the door and punches in his eight digit code disabling the alarm. The beeping comes to abrupt stop as Jatt Starr turns towards his wife.

Jatt Starr: There! Are you—

Jatt Starr’s words halt mid-sentence as another voice opts to interrupt him.

????: ‘Slow down a bit. What does S.C.A.T stand for again?’

Jatt Starr’s eyes turn from his wife – whom obviously hadn’t been the one to speak – to the couch, where Louis the Little Person still sits.

Louis the Little Person: Don’t look at me, I didn’t say a damn-fucking word.

Jatt Starr’s gaze then continue to move onwards even more, now falling to the stroller where Anakin still lays. Jatt stares for a few moments, his eyes growing wide….

Jatt Starr: ANAKIN!!! YOUR FIRST WORDS!!! While asleep too….I wonder in Einsten said his first words while—

Bethany: Don’t be stupid. It wasn’t him either.

Jatt Starr turns once again back to face his wife.

Jatt Starr: Well, if it wasn’t you, and it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t Louis or Anakin…

Louis the Little Person: …and it isn’t the Ghost of Darkwing…or those cocksucking cum guzzlers Aceldama or Max Kael….then who the fuck was it?

The door to one of the lockers immediately bursts open, creating a loud crashing sound as it connects with the lockers beside it.

????: ‘Y’ello!’

Jatt Starr: Green?

All eyes, including those of the camera-man as he manuoveres his equipment, turn towards the source of the voice. Jatt Starr is still looking at everyone shift their attention to none other than…..Shane Reynolds.

Jatt Starr: What? What is it?

Jatt Starr follows their gaze and sees Shane Reynolds dressed again in the imitation ChristPlow outfit. Only now with a pipe and a Sherlock Holmes style hat, rather than his earlier General’s one. The same he wore when spying on Mike Plow and Scottywood last week. He moves his head from side to side with audible clicks. A notepad is currently held in one hand and a pen in the other.

Shane Reynolds: Sorry, it was getting cramped in there – not to mention a bit smokey, what with the pipe – and couldn’t wait any longer. So back to my question: I get that it’s Sparrow….or is it Simon….or Starr now?

Jatt Starr: Zombie-breach! Where the heck are the damn laser-beams and blast-doors? And how did he find my Starr-lock Holmes hat???

Shane shakes his head, ignoring the questions, and presses on with what he was saying.

Shane Reynolds: Anyway, I know it’s one of those and then…..S.C.A.T….I wanna say that’s C for committee? Is that right? Or is the whole thing some obscure reference to your proclivities: sucks cock at Turmoil?

No answer comes however, except with Jatt Starr pointing as emphatically as the evil monkey from Chris Griffin’s closet.

Jatt Starr: ES-PI-O-NAGE!

Bethany rolls her eyes, while Shane’s own grow wide, baffled. He hesitates and pauses for a few moments and then suddenly reaches into the robe and pulls out…..a dictionary. He holds up a solitary finger, indicating wait, and then opens it as Jatt Starr turns to Bethany.

Jatt Starr: He was sent from Team Wolfgang Suck to perform espionage.

The pages flick beneath Shane’s fingers as he searches through.

Shane Reynolds: No, not ‘S’. We want the letter ‘E’.

He flicks back through the S section, through which Shane had been browsing through earlier. The word ‘sarcasm’ sticks out to the camera and people watching, having been circled and underlined and having a huge arrow pointing towards it, maked by the words: FOR THE ATTENTION OF RYAN FAZE LATER ON!

Shane Reynolds: Ahh, here we are.

But before he can read it’s meaning, the book is knocked from his hand and clatters to the floor. Shane’s eyes immediately fall onto the person standing in-front of him.

Louis the Little Person: It means get the hell out of the locker-room, fuckhead.

Barely hearing what is said, Shane’s mouth forms a little O as his eyes now take their turn to grow wide.

Shane Reynolds: No, it can’t be. Surely you’re not….Little Anakin? I’ve heard so much about you. But, being kind of in my own bubble right now, focusing on my own issues – recovering from emo-holism, et cetera… – I’ve never had the pleasure. Aren’t you a cu—little fella. Although, not as little as I’d thought; and definitely hairier. They do grow up so fast, though, as they say.

Shane holds up his hand in a high-five towards Louis.

Shane Reynolds: Nice to meetcha, li’l buddy.

Louis’s cheek flush red with anger.

Louis the Little Person: Do I look like a fucking kid to you, bitch?

Shane grabs his hand and enforces the high-five before the little person has a chance to resist. Only to hold they hands against each other, Shane clearly overshadowing the other man’s, size-wise.

Shane Reynolds: Maybe around the hands a bit.

Louis pulls his hand away to take a huge – huge-ish – swing at Shane’s face, only to have Jatt Starr push him sideways in order to take back control of the situation. Louis stands still, resolute and raging, for a moment and then heads back towards the couch.

Jatt Starr: So you think you can come into my locker-room, steal my Jattastic secrets and pre-match rituals and scurry back to your Captain…The Walrus that Poops himself when he thinks of my greatness in comparison to his own?

Shane Reynolds: ….Hardly! I couldn’t care less about your plans and ritu—!

He begins, talking to Jatt. But then, looking out from the corner of his eye and then turning fully, he interrupts himself and yells out:

Shane Reynolds: I wouldn’t actually sit there if I were you…

The words catch Jatt Starr briefly off-guard, but are aimed at Louis, who freezes before leaping back onto the couch.

Shane Reynolds: The janitor and some woman were in here before, on there, doing—-you don’t wanna know.

He then says, noting a female presence. And then leaning in towards Jatt, lowering his voice to a whisper.

Shane Reynolds: …Reverse Cowboy.

Jatt suddenly pushes Shane back a few steps.

Jatt Starr: Enough JATTer-jabber. I saw you at Quitter-dama’s little attempt at a team in-ring love-in session. The Sovereign of Starrgentina heard what you said–so what are you doing here?

Bethany: And how long have you been in here?

Shane turns to the source of the second question.

Shane Reynolds: Not too long – an hour or so. Don’t worry, I didn’t see you changing into your referee’s outfit or anything…………Honest!

And then back to Jatt to answer the first.

Shane Reynolds: Yes, I may have declared that I’ll be loyal to Team Aceldama and help him see you suffer immense failure on all fronts. I know I also said it will be me that will achieve last-man-standing status at War Games. That I will become the new world champion, and that when all is said and done that it will be me rather than you that sends Aceldama fully into career-ending retirement. But that doesn’t me we can’t be civil, does it?

Shane offers a non-returned smile.

Shane Reynolds: That’s all in the future, anyhoo. For now, what I’m doing here has nothing to do with tonight or War games, and is not about stealing secrets. Simply put: I’m studying and researching.

Jatt Starr: Studying and researching what?

Shane Reynolds: Ya know…I was formerly an emo….but what now? I need to find my niche…my place…my own unique and personal gap in the HOW market machine. And I thought, hey, I came back from the dead, why not Jesus? So I went with that…..but still think I need more. So I’ve been watching and studying.

Louis the Little Person: So basically you ripped-off Plow—

Shane Reynolds: I did not rip off Plow. He copied me! I’m the one who died first, alright? And if you’re gonna say he dressed up in the outfit and stuff first, wait til you see the movie Inception when it comes out. Then you’ll understand how he did it.

Shane yells, cutting Louis off momentarily without even glancing back towards him. Only for Jatt Starr to continue along Louis’ train of thought.

Jatt Starr: …And now you’re trying to copy me.

Shane raises his hands in the air in frustration…and finds his feet carrying him once again forward and up to Jatt.

Shane Reynolds: Fine! If that’s want you want to think….but know that I resent that. All I wanted was to to watch for a little bit, maybe write a few things down. Maybe leave you a ‘best of luck tonight’ card. No harm, no foul. But no, you wanna go and make things about the insults and the accusations. It’s the likes of you and Christopher America that are making my recovery so damn trying.

Shane starts immediately for the door.

Shane Reynolds: But before I take my leave, know this. I’m Shane Reynolds, damn it. Former ICON and World Champion. Two-times War Games Winner. Former ruler of the former nation, Xtremopolis. Bigger and more original than Jattlantis, Maxopatamia and Maurako Island put together. I do not need to copy anyone.

Shane pulls open the door, and turns back into the room. He stares at each of the present individuals in turn: Bethany, Anakin, Bethany, Louis, Jatt Starr, Bethany again…..

Shane Reynolds: Come along, Cyril the Compact Citizen…..we’re leaving! We’ve got a lumberjack hat to find. Good day sirs…and Madam.

The door to the locker beside the one Shane had been in suddenly flies open, revealing a man inside of identical height of Louis, and dressed in the same clothes.

Cyril the Compact Citizen: Good luck tonight!

The new miniature addition to the scene mutters to Jatt on his way across towards Shane, who is resolutely facing out into the corridor now.

Louis the Little Person: What the fuck?!

Jatt Starr: Oh! One thing Shane…

Shane Reynolds turns to the Ruler of Jattlantis, narrowing his eyes and staring at the hat as Cyril the Compact Citizen scratches his ass.

Jatt Starr: There’s just one thing I think you should know….I don’t care if I win War Games or not. I only care about one thing… is that Iwill be the one ending Wolfgang Bruggemann’s miserable career.

Shane Reynolds shrugs off Jatt Starr’s little tirade with a slight smile… and swings his hand forward, ordering the Compact Citizen to hurry up. Then, as they both step out into the corridor – Shane revealing a promotional Dr. Thunder logo on the back of his imitation robes – he pulls the door closed behind him.

Jatt Starr: You better run! Or I’ll lop off your zombie head!

Bethany: What the hell just happened?

Louis the Little Person: I don’t scratch my ass like that, do I?

Jatt Starr just stares at the door with narrow eyes and pursed lips, fuming. Bethany looks utterly confused at what had just transpired while Anakin sleeps peacefully as the scene ends.




HOW World Title Match
Simon Sparrow vs. Aceldama
Singles Match

Back from the final commercial break of the night, the respective War Games participants of Team SCAT and Team Aceldama surround the ring to serve as Lumberjacks for the anticipated World Title match between War Games captains. On one side of the ring, former World Champion Hall of Famers Max Kael and Mark O’Neal join the current ICON and LSD champions, ChristPlow and “Phenomenal” Ryan Faze respectively, while the opposite side of the ring is occupied by Marcus Reinhardt, Crow, Scottywood, Shane Reynolds, and David Black.

Neither team looks particularly chatty with each other, save for perhaps the trio of Mark O’Neal, Ryan Faze and ChristPlow, who tease and taunt some fans at ringside.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back to Thursday Night Turmoil, folks, where – as evidenced by the mob of superstars surrounding the ring – it is time for our Main Event World Title match!

Benny Newell: And more importantly, the in-ring return of the Ruler of Jattlantis, the Sultan of Sea-Jattle, the King of Grap-

Joe Hoffman: Benny! Will you just get on with it already?

Benny Newell: Shutup, Joe… and go fuck yourself for interrupting me! As I was trying to say, Team Best has dominated tonight and you can bet your Denise Austin VHS collection that the same will hold true in this match with JATT MOTHERFUCKING STARR taking the World Title from that sauerkraut-loving Nazi, Aceldama!

Already on their feet, the crowd bears witness as Bethany Sparrow enters the ring as she prepares to serve as the Special Guest Referee in this match.

Joe Hoffman: Well there is the ‘X-Factor’ of this match, Bethany Sparrow, who really can’t be pleased after what Aceldama did to her and Jatt’s son, Anakin last week. Team Aceldama may have the extra team member at ringside, but Bethany Sparrow as the Special Guest Referee of this match trumps that advantage with ease.

Benny Newell: Bethany or no Bethany, Jatt is going to destroy Aceldama. He’s going to make him cry again like the little fucking girl that he is and always has been…

Suddenly, ‘Everybody Wants You’ by Billy Squier hits the speakers, prompting the Captain of Team Best at War Games, Jatt Starr, to emerge from behind the curtain. A mixed, but tremendously loud reaction from the crowd is heard and essentially drowns out his theme music, as he poses on the stage; a shower of gold-colored pyro raining down over him as he does so. Wearing his trademark Team SCAT baseball jersey, black in color with white lettering and gold trim, Jatt – clearly with a pep in his step – heads to the ring where he joins his wife, Bethany.

Benny Newell: Look at him, Joe… it’s like he’s a new man.

Joe Hoffman: Well, regardless of his persona, Jatt Starr will always be remembered as a legend of this business whether or not he defeats Aceldama here tonight or not.

Nodding to his teammates from inside the ring, Jatt Starr paces back-and-forth as he awaits the arrival of his opponent. Suddenly, ‘Sonne’ by Tool replaces his theme music and the sight of High Octane Wrestling World champion is all that is needed to produce looks of scorn across the faces of Jatt and Bethany. Intentionally, Aceldama takes a slow pace to the ring, knowing how impatient Jatt is and climbs the ring steps carefully, eyeing down members of both teams before he enters the ring with the World title strapped tightly around his waist. He too receives a mixed reaction from the crowd; the boos slightly outweighing the cheers as he un-straps the title and drops it before Bethany’s feet.

Benny Newell: Whoa! Ass shot at twelve-o-clock! Damn, Joe… ever seen one like that? Bethany Sparrow gives new meaning to the song ‘Baby Got Back’.

Joe Hoffman: No comment, Benny. Just try to focus in on the match this time, ok?

Benny Newell: See! You agree with me! Bethany’s hot as fuck and you know it!

Joe Hoffman: Well, I, uh-

Benny Newell: Damn, what’d I’d give for a threesome with her and the ICON title!

Joe Hoffman: ANYWAYS…

As Joe tries to turn Benny’s focus back to the match, Jatt Starr and Aceldama engage in a heated stare-down in the center of the ring; the fans as hostile as ever as it becomes almost a Rock-Hogan like moment inside the Kallisten Coliseum.

Joe Hoffman: This place is electric, Buff!

Benny Newell: I can barely hear myself drink!… I mean, think!

As their stare-down comes to an end, Bethany Sparrow picks up the World title belt and raises it into the air for everyone to see. Dutifully, she hands it to Bryan McVay who secures the gold at ringside.


Upon Bethany’s call for the bell, Jatt offers her a reassuring look that ‘everything will be ok’ and perhaps even ‘according as planned’ as it’s commonly known that both would love to see Aceldama suffer and lose the title. Unfortunately for Starr, this serves as an opening to Aceldama who blindsides the challenger, knocking him immediately out of the ring near the Team Ace Lumberjacks.

Joe Hoffman: David Black and Scottywood getting their licks in early on Jatt Starr!

Stomping away at the challenger, Marcus Reinhardt and Crow get some shots in as well, all while Shane Reynolds stays back and watches, smiling at his fellow Hall of Famer’s misfortune. Pleased with the damage they’ve inflicted thus far, Scottywood and Reinhardt serve to roll Jatt Starr back into the ring, where Aceldama follows up with several stomps of his own before dragging Jatt to his feet.

Joe Hoffman: Spinebuster on Starr! Ace covers!

Slow to drop for the pin fall, Bethany delivers a slow, drawn-out count that allows her husband to easily kick out after 1. Smiling at first, Bethany’s pleasure turns to fear as Aceldama storms to his feet; a look of rage written across his face as he stalks her into a corner of the ring.

Benny Newell: Shit! Lookout Bethany!

With nowhere to run, Bethany watches as Ace draws closer to her, fuming with ire until a sneer forms across the face of the champion. Suddenly, Ace is now the one smiling as he whispers something into Bethany’s ear… something we can only speculate about until Starr low blows him from behind, rolling Aceldama up for a pin of his own.

Joe Hoffman: Jatt out of nowhere! One, two… no! The champion kicks out!

This time, Bethany’s count is a bit more even as Jatt immediately pops up to question her on what she’s doing, furious that his wife didn’t perform a fast count in his favor. All Bethany can really respond with is a shrug before Aceldama interrupts them a roll-up of his own, forcing her to reluctantly drop for the pin once again.

Joe Hoffman: Jatt Starr kicks out!

This time, Bethany’s count for Aceldama was on par with that of her husband’s as she watches the World champion stagger to his feet, still favoring his groin.

Benny Newell: What the hell is she doing, Hoffman? That’s no way to cheat!

As Aceldama stands up, Jatt is right there to greet him with a series of right hands before the BattleStarr Jatt-lantica leans into him, using his leverage to whip the World champion into the opposing ropes. Flying off from them hard, Aceldama is met with a shoulder block from Starr, who is quick to kick his opponent out of the ring near the salivating members of Team Best.

Joe Hoffman: Look at them all! Like bloodhounds attacking a rare piece of meat!

As Joe describes, Kael looks on closely as O’Neal, Faze, and ChristPlow take their licks in on Aceldama, punching and stomping away at him until ChristPlow procures a pair of brass knuckles and begins using them against the World champion. Realizing that the Team SCAT members are up to foul play, the Team Ace reinforcements save Aceldama, but not before a wound is formed on his forehead.

Joe Hoffman: Blood on the face of the champion! It’s become an all-out WAR here at ringside!

Shane Reynolds spitting into the face of Ryan Faze. David Black pounding away at Mark O’Neal. The remaining members of Team Aceldama staving off ChristPlow and Kael, who was biding his time, refusing to assist Jatt Starr. Thankfully, all the brawling leaves Aceldama to recover on the canvas, but not for long as Jatt Starr quickly exits the ring to retrieve his bloodied opponent. Rolling Aceldama back inside the ring, Jatt Starr violently tosses his opponent into the ring post; Aceldama’s shoulder striking the metal with incredible force, enough to make the World champion cry out in pain. Aceldama tries to roll back out of the ring, but Jatt catches him by the boot and drags him back to the center of it, thoroughly applying his Modified Texas Cloverleaf submission finisher as Bethany watches her husband closely.

Joe Hoffman: It’s the-

Benny Newell: Hold it! I got this one, Joe. It’s the fucking ‘Jattaclysm’, bitches! Ha-ha! Ace is fucked!

Trapped in the center of the ring, Aceldama is dreadfully reminded of who the referee of this match is as Bethany Sparrow kneels down in front of him with a smirk on her face. Crying out in pain, Ace tries his best not to give any indication to Bethany that he’s ready to tap out. No hand movements… nothing. He simply taking the pain like the champion that he is until David Black – of all people – reaches into the ring and trips Bethany Sparrow, serving to distract Jatt Starr. Like any faithful husband would, Jatt releases Aceldama and storms across the ring, threatening David Black who again turns his attention to brawling with the ‘Explosive One’.

With chaos ensuing at ringside, Starr appears distracted once again until he hears Bethany urging him to turn around, warning him that Aceldama is rising to his feet. Seeing this, Jatt turns back to his opponent and approaches him, walking right into Aceldama’s ‘Berlin Express’ Gore that slams hard into the turnbuckles!

Joe Hoffman: Aceldama is giving Jatt Starr everything he’s got tonight, proving exactly why he is the World champion of this federation!

Still, the energy he exerted in performing his trademark move leaves Aceldama laid out as well, trying to catch his breath as Jatt groans near him in pain. Shocked by the sudden turn of events, Bethany Sparrow encourages her husband to use the ropes to ‘get up’, as indicated by her gestures toward Jatt. Unfortunately, Jatt is mostly unresponsive as Aceldama proves to be the first one to his feet, staggering across the ring where he brushes Bethany out of the way.

Joe Hoffman: This doesn’t look good for the challenger… OHHHH! ‘Fall of the Berlin Wall’ by Aceldama!

Having assisted Jatt to his feet, only to send him right back down again with a vicious Clothesline, Aceldama does the throat-slashing gesture as a means of intimidating Bethany Sparrow. Cowering back in fear of the menacing World champion, Bethany watches as Aceldama calls for his ‘Blitzkrieg’ finisher; the crowd going ballistic as they go back and forth between booing Aceldama and cheering for the ringside brawl between War Games teams.

Benny Newell: Someone do something! Get in there ChristPlow! C’mon O’Neal! Faze?!? Max?!?!?

Unfortunately, no one is available to respond to Benny’s desperation as all of the Team SCAT members are unable to come to their Captain’s aid; distracted by the teammates of Team Aceldama.

Booting Jatt Starr to his ribs, Aceldama doubles over his opponent as a setup for the Powerbomb part of his ‘Blitzkrieg’ finisher. As he secures Jatt’s head under his legs, he looks out to the crowd with a roaring battle cry; one that turns to a cry of pain as Bethany Sparrow performs a Roundhouse kick to Ace’s temple.

Benny Newell: Fuck yes, Joe! Fuck yes!

Joe Hoffman: Heck, no! Bethany Sparrow out of nowhere with that Roundhouse kick! You just knew that something like this would happen…

Benny Newell: Damn. Even Jackie Chan would be impressed with that one.

Bethany appears horrified at first, but after knocking Aceldama for a loop, she rushes over to her husband and pleads with him to ‘get up’, given the condition of his fallen opponent. Scampering across the ring, a sudden rush of adrenaline fuels Jatt Starr as he covers the body of the World Champion, pulling the tights for leverage in addition to using the ropes.

Benny Newell: Ha-ha! One! Two!! THREE!!! HE DID IT, JOE! HE FUCKING DID IT!!

Joe Hoffman: No! Aceldama got the shoulder up despite yet another quick count from Bethany! Here… let’s take a look at the replay.

Suddenly, footage of the pin fall encompasses the HOV screen as it clearly displays Aceldama getting the shoulder up at literally the exact moment that Bethany’s hand hits the mat for the third time. Despite this, Bethany Sparrow feverishly calls for the bell, having already made her decision in favor of her husband.

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner by way of pin fall in 16:24… and your NEEEEEEEWWWWWWW High Octane Wrestling World Champion… JATT STARR!!!

Benny Newell: YES! All is well in the world once again! DRIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!

With no time to celebrate, Jatt Starr and his wife Bethany scurry out of the ring, grabbing the World title belt on their way up the entrance ramp as ‘Everybody Wants You’ blares across the speakers once again. Rushing up to the stage, Jatt smirks widely as he flaunts the World title belt; Aceldama pounding his fist into the ring mat as he sees this from on his knees inside the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Regardless of what I think of Aceldama, Jatt Starr’s victory here tonight was a travesty! He should be ashamed of himself, using his own wife like that…

Benny Newell: And somewhere in this arena, Lee Best is smiling as he’s now got the World, ICON, and LSD champions on his team heading into War Games. Hey Lee, hit me up after the show and we’ll hit the ‘Horse’ to celebrate!

The show comes to a close as we see Starr holding posing with his wife at the top of the ramp with the World Title.


Aceldama, David Black , Shane Reynolds, Scottywood, Crow and Marcus Reinhardt vs. Simon Sparrow©, Max Kael, Mark O’Neal, ChristPlow© and Ryan Faze©

Ethan Cavanaugh vs. Christopher America©

Mario Maurako vs. Bobbinette Carey

Show Details

Kallisten Coliseum

Chicago, Illinois

Show times

  • 9:00PM