Thursday Night Turmoil
May 6th, 2010 – #HOW117
Kallisten Coliseum, Chicago, IL
LSD Title Match
Ryan Faze vs. Justin Decent
No Holds Barred, Falls Count Anywhere Match
An unusual clamor of audio opens this week’s broadcast as the HOTv and HOW logos flash across a cold black screen. Suddenly, the visuals inside the Kallisten Coliseum turn live, joining the audio backstage where the No Holds Barred, Falls Count Anywhere LSD title match is already in progress between the champion, Justin Decent, and his challenger, Ryan Faze.
Joe Hoffman: Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to yet another edition of Thursday Night Turmoil! I’m Joe Hoffman along with Benny Newell here at ringside, but as you can see, we’re kicking things off tonight with a bang!
Benny Newell: Literally, Joe! Faze just cracked Justin Decent with that lead pipe! DRINK!
As Benny downs shot #1 with ease, blood begins to trickle from the wound on Justin Decent’s forehead. But before Justin can even favor the injury, the aggressive, forceful Faze is quick to apply the cover that Referee Joel Hortega is there to make the count.
Joe Hoffman: No! The champion kicks out!
Raising ‘dos’ of his fingers into the air, Hortega watches as Faze drags Decent to his feet before executing a Phenomenal Fazeplex into a nearby brick wall. Crashing against the wall and onto the concrete floor, Decent struggles as he rolls to his knees. He even tries crawling away from Faze, only to be flattened once again by the “Phenomenal One” who repeatedly drives his boot into Justin’s mid-section. Taunting the champion to ‘get up’, Faze kicks his lead pipe aside in favor of something more damaging and effective.
Benny Newell: Shit Joe, we should start the show like this more often! Kick his Geocities-loving ass, Faze!
Joe Hoffman: Faze with that thick power cable… oh, come on! Faze with a flat-out CHOKE on the LSD champion!
Thanks to the No Holds Barred stipulation, Hortega cannot intervene as Faze pulls tighter and tighter on the cord; Justin’s face turning a bright shade of purple as the lack of oxygen is clearly taking its toll on him. After several long and excruciating moments, Faze spares Justin Decent before his final moment of consciousness and relieves him from the choke.
Joe Hoffman: Thank God! Folks, Decent is in real bad shape. Perhaps he bit off a bit more than he could chew here in HOW as you now see Faze climb into that… Benny?!? What is that thing?
Benny Newell: A FORKLIFT?!? Oh, Decent is really fucked now…
Gasping for air, a battered and bloody Justin Decent slumps against the nearby brick wall for support. Unaware of what Ryan is up to, he uses every possible second that he can to try and recover before Faze does any further damage. Unfortunately, his efforts prove to be worthless as Ryan charges full-speed ahead in his direction with the forklift.
Joe Hoffman: LOOKOUT!!!
Benny Newell: YES!!! YES!! YES!!! That was seriously fucking BRUTAL! HA-HA! DRRRRRRRRIIINNNNKKKK!
Suddenly, paramedics rush the scene as all we see is Faze pulling the forklift away and Justin Decent lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood.
Joe Hoffman: By God, I- I’m speechless. Someone get in there! The man’s been gutted, for crying out loud!
As the medics surround Justin Decent, Faze exits the now smashed-in forklift and approaches the destruction he’s just caused; the former LSD champion grinning sadistically as he clearly isn’t finished with his opponent.
Joe Hoffman: No! Hasn’t he had enough, Faze?!? Spare him some mercy, for God’s sake!
Benny Newell: Hey! Watch it, Joe, before you go using Lee’s name in vein! Don’t listen to him, Faze! Fucking murder the dickhead!
Joe Hoffman: Certainly folks, I apologize for Benny’s comments and for anything you are about to witness here on Tur… oh, come on! Is that really necessary?!?!? Hortega needs to get in there and stop this match!
Threatening the medics aside, Ryan gather his unconscious opponent and applies his Inverted CrossFaze submission finisher, wrenching the hold with intensity until Hortega has no other choice but to call for the bell.
Bryan McVay: Here is your winner by way of submission in 8:44… and NEEEEEEEEEEEW High Octane LSD champion… “PHENOMENAL” RYAN FAZE!!!
Joe Hoffman: In convincing fashion, Faze wins the LSD championship for the secondtime in his career! Just look at the destruction backstage! Look at the chaos!
Benny Newell: ‘Atta boy, Faze! Once again, Team Best proving its DOMINANCE over that foul-smelling German and his worthless band of jobbers. I’m telling you, Joe… that was only a preview of what’s to come in Pearl Harbor!
Joe Hoffman: Certainly, the newest addition to Team SCAT…
Benny Newell: Team Best!
Joe Hoffman: REGARDLESS of what the team is called… the ‘Phenomenal One’ looks stronger than ever as we inch closer and closer to War Games. His victory here tonight is a tremendous blow to Team Aceldama, as Decent doesn’t look like he’ll be competing any time soon after that beating.
As the medics swarm in and begin loading Justin Decent onto a stretcher, Faze looks into the gold-plating of his newly-acquired LSD championship belt; his sneering reflection serving as the image that takes us into commercial break.
WAR GAMES MATCH
Aceldama©, David Black , Shane Reynolds, Scottywood and ??? vs. Simon Sparrow, Max Kael, Mark O’Neal, ChristPlow© and Ryan Faze©
HOFC TITLE MATCH
Ethan Cavanaugh vs. Christopher America©
SEX N VIOLENCE MATCH
Carmen Jennings vs. Static
The Best Replay Ever..
Back live and the lights in the Kallisten Coliseum drop, dimming to almost nothing as the HOV lights up, coming to life. We see an edited video, from two weeks ago on Turmoil, during the ICONIC Coronation of ChristPlow.
Lee Best: We have confirmed what I have suspected for years…
The camera zooms in and we see that it is a birth certificate. The mothers name is Julie Marie Manzella and the father’s name is Lee Best.
Joe Hoffman: What the heck??
Then the camera pans and we see the child’s name…..MICHAEL VINCENT PLOW
Lee Best: That’s right Mike… I am your FATHER.
The video fades out, replaced with a loving portrait of Lee Best and ICON Champion Mike Plow, standing with an arm around each other and smiling for the camera. Even smiling happily, both men manage to look sinisterly evil in the portrait.
In the background, “Just The Two Of Us” by Will Smith begins to play, quietly under the audio. Another video clip, from the ending of last week’s Turmoil, replaces the portrait.
Lee Best: I’m proud of you, Michael. I always knew it was you– I knew I had a child out there, and from the second I saw you for the first time, I knew it was you. It’s not just in the eyes, or the features, kid… it’s in the soul. You are a winner. You are a champion. You are a motherfucking BEST. And as a Best, there is a right of passage– there are lessons to be learned. You learn your first lesson tonight.
The camera fades out, and then back in.
Lee Best: You’re a part of the Best family, now, son. You are the heir to it all– some day, this is going to be your job. Your company. It’s about time you started learning the family business. Michael Norcia is an embarrassment to HOW, is he not?
MPlow clenches his teeth, staring at the frightened man in the back of the van. He nods at his father.
Lee Best: You wanna be a part of my company, Norcia? Or you wanna come down to the ring, do your quick 1,2,3 and collect your fucking paycheck? YOU WANNA FUCKING PHONE IT IN ON MY SHOW, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF TRASH?! Do it, kid. Make me the proudest fucking father who ever lived…
MPlow stalks forward, the pivotal moment of his career teetering on the edge. He grips the pen tighter than he’s ever gripped anything before as he grabs Norcia by the throat, pulling him face first out of the van and dropping him into the parking lot.
ChristPlow: Michael Norcia?
With an evil scoff, Plow smiles as he kicks the restrained, terrified human being directly in the throat.
ChristPlow: On behalf of the Best family… fuck you– YOU’RE FIRED!
He raises the pen, thrusting it forward with the strength of a man twice his size. Lee Best smiles, as Norcia’s eyes widen…
The shot fades, opening up into a new one. This time, there is no pre-recorded footage– instead, Lee Best sits inside his office, a camera pointed directly at his face as he stares into the lens. An evil smile comes over his lips, as he leans forward.
Lee Best: Hope you brought your pen tonight, son. We’re going to teach someone a lesson– just the two of us….now tell someone to get Carmen and that bitch Static to my office…I got a little surprise for them.
The scene fades out as we see Lee smiling.
A Hardcore Tribute
“You can’t fucking staple it down, Tony! Get the rivet gun, idiot.”
The words can be heard before the picture comes into focus. The blurry outlines of several men, all standing around a very large object, can be seen as the show comes back from commercial break. Unfortunately, due to some sort of technical difficulty with a likely dense camera man, it takes a few seconds for everything to become crisp and sharp.
“Bolt that fucker down.” The apparent leader commands, over the sound of the construction equipment. “And do it before that stoner fuck gets here and rains all over my parade of awwwwweeeeesooooome.”
Finally, the camera pans left and comes into focus. The hallway of the Kallisten Coliseum is a tight fight for the four men in hard hats, as they struggle to get around one another despite the working conditions. Their leader, the always obnoxious ChristPlow, stands off to one side, his hard hat bearing a crucifix and airbrushed portrait of himself, in the standard Buddy Christ thumbs up pose. He’s gone back to wearing his robe, albeit with a tie loosely hung around his neck and what can best be described as– well, dress sandals. The camera doesn’t yet show the ‘fucker getting bolted down’ in question, having panned before the focus came into effect.
“Not there, moron.” Plow rolls his eyes, barking angrily. “In the doorway.”
“But no one will be able to–” the worker begins, from off-screen.
“No shit, idiot.” ChristPlow interrupts him, irritation in his voice. “That’s the whole point. If I wanted it in the middle of the hallway, I’d have said leave it in the middle of the hallway.”
With an audible sigh, the crew goes back to work. The sound of stone grinding across the floor can be heard from just off-screen, with the construction in progress still obfuscated from the general view of the people at home. ChristPlow stands firm, overlooking the project.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
The voice booms from behind the ICON Champion, who barely acknowledges the already expected outburst. The source of the voice, a very upset Scott Woodson, comes into the pan of the camera. His face contorts between confusion, rage, and complete disbelief.
“What the fuck is that thing?” Scottywood practically yelps, gesturing toward the behemoth of an object off camera.
The camera finally zooms out, revealing the source of Scottywood’s confusion. The object in question, a very large piece of marble block, is draped casually with a gigantic white sheet. Only the base can be seen with the drape in place. Even worse for The Hardcore Artist, it’s first rivet is being driven carefully into place– directly in the dead center of the doorway to his locker room. Barely a foot of space exists on either side of the base of the statue, leaving it almost completely blocking entrance and exit.
“It’s a giant marble statue, Scott.” ChristPlow says, not looking away from his supervision. “With a big sheet over top of it. Any other humdingers for me to wrap my intellect around?”
Scotty runs both hands through his thick dreadlocks, tugging at the strands stressfully.
“Well what the HELL is it doing in my locker room?!” Scotty yells, frantically.
“In the doorway, Potty.” ChristPlow corrects, still not turning around. “It’s not in the locker room. It’s in the doorway. And you should be proud, it’s an homage to everything that you’ve done for the business of professional wrestling and the HOW. It’s your legacy, Mr. Woodson– what you will be most remembered for once you’ve hung up your dreadlocks and settled down to a life of smoking pot and still not getting laid.”
“…what is it?” Scotty asks, his voice becoming very suspicious.
Without turning to face his accuser, ChristPlow takes a few steps forward. He plays a quick game of Twister around the construction team, weaving over them as he grabs a hold of the sheet covering the statue. With a firm tug, the sheet comes loose and flies off the marble.
“WHAT THE FUUUUUCK?!” Scotty yells, almost sadly.
He rushes toward the statue, touching it with his own hands, as if he doesn’t believe what he sees. With the sheet removed, the entirety of the statue has been revealed– a giant monument… nay, a fountain… of Scott Woodson, sitting down on top of a toilet. His visage looks to be deep in thought, his chin tucked into the pose of The Thinker as he’s sitting down to do his urinating. A small trickle of water leaks from the tip of the marble penis down into the well-sculpted toilet bowl, at a constant rate. Upon closer inspection, however, it can be seen that it’s not water at all– it’s, uh, AMP energy drink.
“What?” Scotty begins, flabbergasted. “Why? I mean, huh? Are you…? This has got to be a fucking joke. It has to be. There’s no way–”
“You don’t like it?” ChristPlow feigns disappointment, putting out his hurt lip.
“Don’t like it?!” Woodson yells, nearly enraged. “Are you fucking joking me, Plow? Did you really think you were going to get away with putting an eight foot statue of me up in this fucking building? Did you really think that I wasn’t going to catch you? Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do right now– do I snap your fucking neck? Do I cry? Jesus, I think maybe this is one of those things it’s okay for a man to cry over– fuck. No, I think this is one of those situations where I snap your FUCKING NECK, and see if you FUCKING COME BACK IN THREE DAYS!”
Scotty reaches forward, grabbing the Savior by the front of his robe with a firm, menacing grip. For a moment, MPlow’s eyes grow wide in sheer terror.
“OH MY GOD HELP HELP HELP!” ChristPlow screams, like a scared child. “HELP GUYS HE’S GONNA HURT ME!”
He yelps, flailing his arms as Scotty stares at him, almost confused by his near panic attack. Suddenly, all becomes clear as two men step into the shot. Darren Washington and Sidney Smith, the overly large founding members of the Best Image Consultants, step to MPlow’s sides, each bearing down at Scottywood with menacing looks. Scotty gulps, softly.
“There a problem here, Mike?” Darren asks, casually. His gaze never leaves Woodson.
Mike doesn’t answer, instead looking Scotty in the eyes directly. A small smirk comes over his face, as he raises as eyebrow– almost as if to say ‘your move’.
“No, no problem here.” Scotty grunts, putting down the ICON Champion with a have shove. “I’m gonna have your ass for this, Plow. There’s no way your daddy is gonna let this– this– this ABOMINATION of a statue–”
“Fountain.” ChristPlow corrects him, cutting him off with a grin.
“…whatever, dude.” Scotty huffs. “There’s no way he’s gonna let that THING sit in my doorway. There’s safety regulations, Plow. There’s structural integrity. And when he finds how much of his filthy fucking money you spent on–”
“Oh, Scott…” ChristPlow shakes his head, interrupting again. “Lee signed off on this himself. You can see the work order, if you like. Maybe you could get Aceldama to use some of his HOW clout to get this thing re– oh wait… heh heh, Aceldama doesn’t own the company, does he? Maybe next time, you think twice before you choose the wrong fucking side, Pottywood. And as far as spending my father’s money? I didn’t have to. YOU paid for this statue. The money you used to buy your way onto War Games, coupled with the residual cash left over from selling Ethan a shiny new Christopher America paid this sucker off in full.”
Scotty growls again, beginning to lunge for the cocky ICON Champion. MPlow steps back, letting Darren and Sidney step sideways and block his path. Woodson lets out a snarl, backing off.
“I’ll tell you what, Scotty.” MPlow begins, looking amused. “You want this thing removed? That’s fine. They’ve only begun riveting that fucker down– I could have them stop. All you have to do is back off War Games, and even the fucking teams.”
“Fuck yourself.” Scotty answers, immediately and without consideration.
“Alright, guys.” MPlow bellows. “Put it in the floor.”
The rivet gun hums to life, as a frantic Scottywood quickly interjects.
“Wait! Wait!” he begins, his voice rising. “I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars to get that thing out of here.”
“A million.” ChristPlow yawns, not even returning Scotty’s stare.
“Fuck you!” Scottywood yells, desperately. “A hundred grand.”
“FASTER, MONKEYS!” MPlow yells at the construction crew, who begin putting in the second rivet.
“STOP RIVETING!” Scotty yells, conflicting. “Two hundred grand. And I don’t break your fucking nose tonight in that ring.”
“Gentlemen, remove Mr. Woodson from the arena.” ChristPlow says, turning back to the project. “Unless he’s wise enough to do so on his own.”
Scottywood shakes his head, rage filling his eyes. With a hard sniff, he looks up at the hulking bodyguards in front of him– thinking the smart way, he turns around and walks away, heading back down the corridor.
“Such a nice guy, that Scottywood.” MPlow chuckles, as the final rivets are being put into place. “He wants to see me on a cross? Let the whole fucking world see him on a toilet.”
He begins yelling at the construction workers, saying something in Spanish to the Mexican in the group. The camera begins to fade, but as it does, a single sinister looking shadow can be seen in the background, around the corner. It’s a large man, wearing an even bulkier overcoat and Sherlock Holme’s style hat– why? We have no idea. In his mouth is an old style pipe, and in his hands a notebook. His face in shadow, he scribbles something on the pad, quickly disappearing out of sight as the camera cuts away.
John Eric Peter Watson vs. Black Mamba
Back at ringside, Referee Joel Hortega is seen standing in the ring after pulling duty in the LSD championship match merely ten minutes prior. Alongside him, John Eric Peter Watson warms up in preparation for his opponent as his music drowns out and is replaced by Black Mamba’s, who storms down the entrance ramp with his Census clipboard in hand.
Catching the crowd and announcers off-guard, Ranger slides into the ring and swings the clipboard in JEPW’s direction, only for Watson to duck and Clothesline Ranger over the top rope to the outside. Ignoring the buzz from the crowd, John Eric Peter Watson quickly follows up with a leaping Suicide Plancha that connects with Black Mamba.
Joe Hoffman: The High Octane newcomer defying gravity with a risky maneuver that pays off!
Gathering himself on the outside, Watson tosses Black Mamba into the ring and slides in behind him, where Joel Hortega officially calls for the start of the match. Not wanting to relinquish his momentum, JEPW lays the boots into his opponent before scooping him up for a Spinning Crucifix into a Neckbreaker Slam!
Joe Hoffman: The cover! One! Two!! Ranger kicks out!
Benny Newell: What? Huh? There’s a match going on?
Joe Hoffman: Folks, join me in welcoming back Benny Newell to this broadcast…
Benny Newell: Watch the attitude, Hoffman! I’m not dealing with your shit right now!
Joe Hoffman: So how about you focus in on the match that’s going on instead of sleeping there with your eyes open!
Benny Newell: I would if I fucking knew the names of these curtain-jerkers in the ring! It’s not like we’ve got Kael and Jatt squaring off!
As Joe reminds Benny that JEPW defeated Hall of Famer Mark O’Neal last week, Ranger turns the tables on Watson with a questionable shot to his groin that Hortega allows, but not without warning. With his opponent doubled over in pain, Mamba charges by leaping over with a Sunset Flip into a pinning combination for one and a half. Grabbing onto the ropes, Watson stalls for several moments as a means to recover from the Ranger’s low blow which proves to infuriate the HOW Census taker. After some arguing with Hortega, Ranger spins to catch JEPW charging at him with his ‘reEvaluation’ running faceplant, which he counters into a faceplant slam of his own! A cover by Ranger sees Watson kick out after two.
Joe Hoffman: Near fall by Black Mamba!
Sensing the end is within reach, James Ranger signals to the crowd for his ‘Rolling Thunder’ Axe kick finisher as he sees JEPW stagger to his feet. Suddenly, John catches the boot of Ranger and spins him around, applying his intense Camel Clutch submission finisher with ease.
Joe Hoffman: ‘Deadweight Donkey’ on Ranger! He’s tapping out! This one’s over!
Bryan McVay: Here is your winner by way of submission in 6:24… JOHN ERIC PETER WATSON!!!
Releasing James Ranger, JEPW kicks his opponent out of the ring as he celebrates his second victory in as many weeks.
Joe Hoffman: John Watson is off to a hot-start here in High Octane Wrestling! Only time will tell if his success continues as the challenges are most certainly going be greater as he looks to earn a spot on the War Games pay-per-view card. With that said, let’s head backstage where HOFC champion Christopher America is standing by!
A Marvelous American Slap
Christopher America opened his locker backstage. He pulled out oil and was rubbing it on his arms to help give it that glossy sheen. After he finished up, he pulled out a small white plastic bottle of ointment. It was the ointment the doctor had prescribed for his scarring around his neck. When he closed the door to the locker, Christopher heard a voice from behind him.
Christopher spun around, placed a hand over his neck and the other arm up in a defensive position. The camera remained focused on Christopher America.
Person: Whoa whoa whoa whoa. I’m not here to do anything to you.
Christopher: Get the fuck out of my locker room.
Person: Chris, come on. I came here to talk.
Christopher: About what?
The man moves forward into view of the camera and reveals himself to be Mario Maurako.
The fans boo as Mario and Chris stare each other down.
Mario: I just came to say I’m sorry.
Christopher chuckles to himself and shakes his head in disgust.
Christopher: Yeah. Everyone’s sorry. Everyone is always sorry that they just couldn’t be there.
Mario: I’m sorry for much more than not being there during the lynching.
Christopher paused and looked into Mario’s eyes. He wasn’t quite sure, but there seemed to be a glimmer of sincerity.
Christopher: Sure. Are we done?
Mario: Look, last year, I handled some things poorly.
Christopher: And what? Now you’re sorry?
Mario: I can’t change what happened but I can at least make an effort to repair the bridge. I— I’m sorry, man. I’m genuinely, truly sorry. You’ve gone through hell these past few weeks and it takes a big man to persevere…. and I want to say good luck at War Games.
Mario holds out his hand. Christopher takes a minute before finally beginning to extend his hand. But before the two can connect, they are interrupted.
Man: Don’t you fucking touch my property!
Christopher, Mario, and the camera turn in the direction of the voice. There, Ethan Cavanaugh blocked the entryway of the locker room.
Ethan: You ran away again, Chris.
Christopher: I was in the hospital, you fucking psycho!
Ethan: But here you are now and I get to go back to ordering you around like the dog you are. Isn’t that right bitch?
Mario gets nose to nose with Cavanaugh.
Mario: Why don’t you shut the fuck up?
Ethan: Oooooh? Are you going to make me?
Mario: I’m going to marvelously manhandle your ignorant ass in the middle of the ring.
Ethan: So confident, are we? How about a wake up call? Slap him!
Mario turns to Christopher and Christopher turns to Ethan.
Ethan: Do it!!!
Mario says nothing but conveys everything with his eyes, telling America not to slap him, to resist it, to fight it.
Christopher stares back. Ultimately, though, he closes his eyes, turns his head to the side, and slaps Mario Maurako right across the mouth.
Mario moves his tongue in his mouth. He places his hand to his mouth to see if he’s bleeding. He glares at America and then glares at Ethan.
Mario: I’m going to enjoy dissecting your body tonight. And you…
Mario just shakes his head. As he leaves, the camera pans back to Ethan Cavanaugh with his arms folded on his chest, sneering as we go to commercial.
Only Pottywood would get his own statue in the Kallisten Coliseum!
A Flawless Arrival
Backstage in the Kallisten Coliseum we see both “The Wrecking Ball” Static and Carmen Jennings standing outside the office of Lee Best. Neither happy to be seeing the other as you get the feeling that an all-out brawl could break out at any second.
Static: Listen bitch, this is going to be a House of Mirrors match and I am going to slice that pretty little face of your all up.
Carmen: House of Mirrors, Hardcore rules or a Hell in a Cell Inferno match, it doesn’t matter. Once I get my hands on you Guy, I’m going to embarrass you. I’m going to prove once and for all that a WOMEN is better then you.
Suddenly we see Missy Andrews, HOW resident reporter/whore walk up to the two HOW superstars who have their eyes locked on each other, like they are either about to beat the shit out of each other or fuck each other’s brains out.
Missy Andrews: In mere moments it is rumored that Lee Best is going to announce the stipulation for your match at War Games. Any thoughts on what Lee has in store for you two, especially after all the heat between you two as of late?
Static: Fuck Lee and his stipulations. I’m sure he is sitting in his fuckin’ office thinking of some way to fuck me over while giving an advantage to his newest blowjob toy Carmen Jennings.
Carmen: Hey! I don’t need no advantage to beat your overrated… sorry, you’re never rated ass.
Static and Carmen get into each other’s faces as it seems a fight is now going to break out, but the door to Lee Best’s office slightly opens up and that draws both Static and Carmen’s attention, which causes neither to see the blind attack from behind with a steel chair that lays out the two superstars. Missy Andrews quickly scampers away as the camera pans and we see Kelly Flawless standing over Static and Carmen as he throws the chair to the ground and pushes the door to Lee Best’s office open and walks in. He closes the door behind him as we cut back to ringside for America vs. Marcus Reinhardt.
Marcus Reinhardt – 0% v Christopher America© – 0%
Joe Hoffman: Welcome back to the show, Ladies and Gentlemen, where we are just about set for our next match here on Turmoil. What do you think, Benny? Do you like America or Reinhardt in this one?
Benny Newell: Ryan who? I thought Faze already wrestled earlier tonight?
Joe Hoffman: Arghhh! Nevermind. Nonetheless, we should have an exciting contest for you all here in just about…
Interrupting Joe with his presence on the stage, Marcus Reinhardt emerges to a nice pop from the antsy Chicago crowd. Wearing his ‘Blood. Sweat. Wrestle’ t-shirt, he slaps some hands along the aisle before sliding into the ring next to referee,Matt Boettcher. As Boettcher checks him for weapons, the Star Spangled Banner echoes out into the arena, only to be replaced by Fort Minor’s ‘Remember the Name’ as Christopher America appears to an explosion of red, white, and blue fireworks. Looking rather downtrodden after the events from last week, America enters the ring rather solemnly, even in the absence of Ethan Cavanaugh who is booked to compete in the match after this one. After a quick weapons check on the HOFC champion, the bell sounds and this match is under way with Reinhardt and America circling each other in the center of the ring.
Careful and calculated in their movements, Reinhardt or America measure each other down until they engage in a collar-and-elbow tie-up that sees Reinhardt use his slight strength advantage to back Christopher down into a corner. Obliging on Boettcher’s call for a break, Reinhardt receives an elbow to his temple for his efforts that staggers him backwards back into the center of the ring. Running forward, Christopher America delivers an American Bulldog that smashes Marcus’s head off the mat.
Joe Hoffman: Christopher going for the first pin of the contest… ONE! T-NO! Kick out by Marcus Reinhardt!
Back to their feet, America slaps on an American Side-Headlock before Reinhardt is able to slip out and push off. Bouncing off the ropes, America finds himself on the receiving end of a Lou Thesz Press, where Marcus wails away with his right fist into Christopher’s large, thick skull. Again, Boettcher calls for a break that Reinhardt obeys, but a quick elbow drop to the America’s sternum gives Reinhardt his first opportunity at a pin fall in this match.
Joe Hoffman: Kick out by Christopher America! These two are really taking it to each other here in the early going of this match!
Benny Newell: I may be half intoxicated, but Marcus Whatshisface looks to be giving the HOFC champion a run for his money!
Joe Hoffman: It’s Reinhardt. Marcus. Reinhardt.
Benny Newell: Stop talking about Faze, you fucking douchebag, and start focusing on this match!
As Joe’s frustration becomes more evident in his voice, America’s frustration with Reinhardt proves to be clear as well as Marcus seems to turn everything Christopher throws at him into a counter or reversal of his own. Trapped in a Boston Crab submission, America fights his way toward the ropes, reaching out desperately to try and break the hold. Unfortunately, Reinhardt denies him that out and drags him back into the center of the ring.
Joe Hoffman: Christopher America is trapped in that submission with nowhere to go! I think he’s going to tap here, Benny!
Benny Newell: He tapped!
Joe Hoffman: No, you nit! Sorry, but which match are you watching?
Benny Newell: I told you! I’m half intoxicated right now. I can’t help what I see or don’t see.
Suddenly, America tries a last-ditch effort to try and escape Reinhardt’s submission, rolling his way out of the move to reverse the leverage and send Reinhardt flying into the turnbuckle! Back on his feet, America notices Marcus staggering in the corner and charges, landing an American Splash in the corner! Bouncing off to applause from the crowd, America cries out ‘For America’ before connecting with his Hero’s Welcome finisher.
Joe Hoffman: FOR AMERICA! ONE! TWO! THREE!!
Bryan McVay: Here is your winner by way of pin fall in 10:22… CHRISTOPHER AMERICA!!!
Joe Hoffman: Valiant effort tonight by Marcus Reinhardt, who falls just short in defeating the HOFC champion.
Turmoil head to a commercial break as the HOV comes to life and we see World Champion Aceldama shaking his head at the result of the match.
HOW Hall of Famer Chris Kostoff will return next week for a very special role on Turmoil
New member..or two?
*The dust is settling on the Marcus Reinhardt and Christopher America match after a quick commercial break as America has already left for the backstage area. Reinhardt is taking a while to get out of the ring and as he gets to the ropes and is about to put his foot under them a familiar tune plays throughout the Kallisten Coliseum, none other than Rammstein’s ‘Sonne’ as the world champion struts out to the ramp, dressed in a fine suit, the world title draped across his shoulder. Reinhardt stops dead and stares blankly at Aceldama, who stands with microphone in hand*
Joe Hoffman: What on earth is he doing out there? He is not even booked tonight!
Benny Newell: Maybe he is out shopping for a Doberman? After all, that old dog is done, soon to be finished, just like him. I think he would be a perfect pet for Aceldama, seeing they have so much in common.
Aceldama: Just wait there a minute Reinhardt, I have a little bit of ‘business’ to attend to, your exit can wait. Now……first things first. It seems that one Justin Decent thinks he is above this federation, that he is better than everyone else in it…..and he met the wrath of one Lee Best. So I am a member down. No big deal, even though Decent was the first pick for my team, a man I felt had so much potential, even to go on and win the whole thing. It must have been too much pressure for him, and he bottled it. He went on an ego trip, but it was a one way ticket to self destruction. I don’t need boys who crack at the big pressure Marcus………like this man. Let me introduce to you to the next member of Team Aceldama, a man who knows all about the big time………CROW!!
*Crow’s music hits as he comes out and stands beside Aceldama, who smiles at him as they both turn back to the ring.*
Aceldama: Now Marcus, you must be wondering, why have I interrupted your exit just to reveal this match as my newest War Games acquisition? You see, with Decent out of the frame, it leaves me with quite the quandary you see. A young man overcome by the pressure of being the first choice for War Games, making his move up to the big leagues. Can’t blame him I guess……..
*Aceldama begins to walk, followed quickly by Crow as they make their way to the ring and walk up the steps, all the while staring at Reinhardt who is none the wiser. They are now in the ring, standing opposite a worn out Reinhardt after his last match*
Aceldama: So much to put on young shoulders, so……..inexperienced. You look at Crow here, experience is what got him to this world title, determination is what brings him back, for more. Should I refuse a man so thirsty to succeed the chance to do so? I would never try. With Decent gone I now have a team of experienced men, men who have been here long enough to know…….when a challenge arises. Black, record holder of the LSD title, took on all comers. You even look at Scottywood and Reynolds, veterans of this game, both knowing what it takes to win it all. Experience Reinhardt. Just like you…
*Reinhardt looks at him blankly, a cold hard look upon his face*
Aceldama: Your an old man, let’s not beat around the bush here. Your time in this profession is running short, and what have you to show for it? Nothing! Well Marcus, I want to give you that moment to remember. I want your experience, I want those old, wise shoulders……..to be my final member of Team Aceldama! So Marcus, what do you say?
*Marcus stands for a moment, eye to eye with Aceldama, then in a flash he literally snatches the microphone off Aceldama, much to his shock and bemusement, and pushes it towards his lips*
Reinhardt: Sorry Ace, but I don’t take charity. I do things my way. So NO to your offer!
*The crowd are stunned as Reinhardt refuses the offer of the world champion and in a sign of disrespect he shoves the microphone right back into the chest of the champion, who looks at him confused, taking it back*
Aceldama: You know something Marcus, you have balls, I will give you that. But you are quite dumb as well. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance for you to make something of this career of yours and you are willing to throw it all away? For what? Pride? Let your pride go Marcus, or else it will be the biggest mistake you make!
*Aceldama squares up with Reinhardt who shows no fear and stands right up to him, eye to eye, so close they can feel each other’s breath on their faces! Aceldama again puts the microphone to his mouth*
Aceldama: You telling me…….Marcus, that you have never dreamed of holding……this?
*He moves back slightly and takes the world title off his shoulder and starts to dangle it in front of Reinhardt who begins to pace, ruffling his beard*
Aceldama: You are being offered a chance to be in War Games Marcus, a chance to get your hands on this, the door is open, don’t close it behind. Do the smart thing Marcus, I know you want this title………do your daddy proud for once!
*This sends a mix of emotions around Reinhardt who turns back to Aceldama who smiles at him and outstretches the microphone to him and he takes it. Thinking over what he is about to say. All the while Crow is standing beside Aceldama*
Reinhardt: …………..I accept. But rest assured, I don’t do this for you, for the team, for these fucking fans, I do this only for myself. Understand?
*Reinhardt drops the microphone and kicks Aceldama in the midsection and moves behind Aceldama and grabs his midsection and pulls off an exceptional German Supplex, but holds onto the grip on him, and delivers another one, then a third. All the while Crow simply stands and watches, with somewhat of a grin upon his face*
Joe Hoffman: Reinhardt is taking it to the champion……..wow a FOURTH German supplex!!…….a stern message, this Doberman is only out for one thing, the world title. He has no care for Aceldama nor his team……a FIFTH!!…….and look at Crow! All the while standing there watching this, that is meant to be your team captain for gods sake……
Benny Newell: Doing what any good person should do, let them sort it out like two Germans.
Joe Hoffman: Is he, is he SMILING? He is enjoying this……..A SIXTH!!! A SIXTH GERMAN SUPPLEX!!
*Reinhardt lets go of Aceldama in the sixth attempt then stands up and lets out his rage with a massive yell as Aceldama is motionless on the ground. He walks over and takes the microphone from the canvas and leans over Aceldama*
Reinhardt: As they in our native country Wolfgang…….Auf Wiedersehn for n…….
*But Reinhardt is interrupted as Crow has seen enough and attacks Reinhardt when he is down and puts his head underneath his legs and flattens him with the ‘Fallen’ as both Reinhardt and Aceldama are down. Crow sees the world title belt on the ground and walks over and picks it up, staring into it. He looks up, a smile on his face, then looks back down at the two fallen men. He then turns and points to a sign for War Games up on the rafters as he puts his foot on Aceldama and raises the world title over his head. He then places it on Aceldama as he begins to stir and Reinhardt is now out of the ring, holding his head. Crow leaves the ring still looking at Aceldama and still smiling away to himself as Aceldama comes to. He realises what has happened as he looks at Reinhardt as he leaves but is too dazed to get up. The fury in his face is for all to see, he grabs his title and begins to shout at both men as they make their way up the ramp, spit coming from his mouth as he does!*
Aceldama: IS THIS ALL YOU WANT?? IS THIS ALL YOU BOTH CARE ABOUT? YOU WILL RESPECT ME, I AM YOUR CAPTAIN!!! YOU WILL FALL IN LINE, I PROMISE YOU BOTH OF THAT!!
Joe Hoffman: Well as Team SCAT are a finely tuned team, Team Aceldama is falling at the seams! No unity, no cohesion, members falling away, members even forcing themselves into the team but what seems to be the biggest problem for Aceldama? That world title he holds so dear. As long as it is on the line, and it is his, even his own team members will overshadow the fact he is their captain.
Benny Newell: At a time like this he has to look at his ancestors and think…….what would Hitler do and I love how Aceldama just added a FUCKING LOSER TO HIS TEAM….IS HE A RE TARD?
Joe Hoffman: He has to get this team functioning quickly or else, never mind goodbye world title, good bye war games victory.
The action cuts to commercial as the crowd is still buzzing over Aceldama putting Reinhardt AND Crow on his War Games team.
WAR GAMES MATCH
Aceldama©, David Black , Shane Reynolds, Scottywood, Crow and Marcus Reinhardt vs. Simon Sparrow, Max Kael, Mark O’Neal, ChristPlow© and Ryan Faze©
HOFC TITLE MATCH
Ethan Cavanaugh vs. Christopher America©
SEX N VIOLENCE MATCH
Carmen Jennings vs. Static
Joe Hoffman: Ladies and gentlemen earlier this week High Octane Wrestling’s own Missy Andrews sat down and did an interview with David Black, at the request of the former LSD Champion himself. Here’s how it went down.
The High Octane Vision screen comes to life with a shot of a standard interview setup; Missy Andrews and David Black sitting face to face in front of the camera. David is dressed in black jeans and a black sleeveless shirt with a white cross on the chest, and his eyes are still the same eerie black color they have been since his return. Father Michael is nowhere to be seen.
Missy Andrews: Why did you ask for this interview?
David Black: I asked for this interview to set the record straight. I think….I think that people have misunderstood me…misunderstood my intentions. I don’t know if it’s because of my past or…. but for whatever reason, people see me as the bad guy. People are condemning me when all I have is the purest, most honorable of intentions.
Missy Andrews: And what are those intentions?
David Black: Making a better world. There is so much suffering in the world today….so much pain….much more than most people care to imagine. I have seen it up close, I have even felt it…and I just want to do whatever I can to alleviate that pain. It needs to end because…the world cannot go on like this much longer.
Missy Andrews: Okay but how does High Octane Wrestling enter into all of this?
David Black: If we want to make this world a better place for all of us, we all have to do whatever we can to make that happen. But we all have to be realistic about what we can do, how we can contribute. If you look at the big picture…we’ve got war, hunger, disease….the world is a mess and people just don’t care about each other. In some parts of the world we’ve got people who own huge houses, two or more cars and still have enough money left that they are able to buy and eat enough food to become morbidly obese, yet those same people are willing to go on strike because they feel they aren’t getting paid enough money…while in other parts of the world, people are actually, literally starving because they have no money and no food. Take a moment to think about that…
A moment of silence passes.
David Black: We’ve got people killing each other for petty cash or out of jealousy…the world is such a mess right now and mankind has truly lost it’s way. All I want to do is make this world a better place. For you, for me, for everybody…for our children and our children’s children. At some point someone has to step up and say enough is enough. There is so much injustice in this world…so much evil…and all I want to do is take a stand against that evil, to fight it at every turn…but I am being perceived as a bad guy.
David takes a long, deep breath.
Missy Andrews: I am still not sure I see the connection to HOW…
David Black: All major goals are achieved by accomplishing a number of minor goals. If changing the world was easy it would have been done a long time ago. If we are truly going to make this world a better place, we have to do it one person at the time. That is ultimately what we are doing here in HOW. We evaluate every person here and we determine whether they have within them the potential to be a part of the new, better world that we are creating. And if they don’t, if they are lost to their sinful, wicked ways then Final Judgment will come to them.
Missy is about to ask another question but is cut off as David continues.
David Black: People have to understand the severity of the situation…we are not doing this out of spite or malice…we are doing the right thing! We are doing what is best for everyone as a whole. If you look at what the world has come to, you simply have to realize and admit that something isn’t working. This is not how it is supposed to be and it is definately NOT what God intended. There are sinners in this world who will never change. They will always give in to their urges, their lust and their desires…they are ruled by their weakness. They think only of themselves and they are never gonna change. They have fallen so far that they are beyond redemption and if we are to make this world a better place, then we need to cleanse it of people like that.
Missy Andrews: I think maybe the reason people have reacted the way they have to you, is because they are perhaps wondering what gives you the right to decide who are ‘beyond redemption’ as you put it…
A moment of silence passes as David ponders Missy’s statement.
David Black: We are building a better world. A world where people care about each other, a world where people don’t go around killing each other on a daily basis…a world without war…without violence. But sacrifices must be made if are to achieve that. This world is so twisted…a vicious poison has infected the world at it’s very core and if we are to be successful in changing the world, we must first cleanse it of this poison so that we may rebuild the world on a clean, untainted foundation.
Missy Andrews: I suppose there is some truth to that but I still do not see how a single man can change the world by wrestling in HOW…
David Black: And isn’t that the exact problem the world is facing right now? Isn’t that exactly how things got this messed up in the first place? ‘I’m just one person, I can’t do anything’? That is nothing more than an excuse. A convenient excuse that people use so they don’t have to deal with reality. But that just isn’t gonna cut it anymore. The world is the way it is because of people…because of mankind’s actions as a whole…because of mankind’s weakness. We look to our leaders to solve the problems for us, The President…the Government…we look to them and demand that they fix the problems, the only problem with that is that politics is all about money…the entire system has become so twisted and corrupted that it just isn’t working anymore. And I’m not just talking about America, I’m talking Worldwide. Everyone is so caught up…so focused on making money that nobody is noticing that the world is falling apart around us. It is the work of the Devil and it must be stopped.
He pauses for a few seconds.
David Black: I can’t fix everything in one fell swoop, I wish I could, but I can’t. There is no quick fix to this, no easy way out of it. So when I said that I intend to solve the problem one sinner at the time….I meant it!
He pauses for a few seconds again.
David Black: Interview’s over, thank you.
David gets up and walks away as the pre-taped interview comes to an end and the screen goes dark again as we back live and to the backstage area..
The door to Lee Best’s office opens, revealing a smirking Kelly Flawless as he emerges from the sacred quarters. He lets the door click softly behind him, looking to his right and his left as he begins a cool stride down the hallway. Her phallus detecting powers securely intact, Missy Andrews appears– as some fag announcer from some other company on that fisher price USA network would say, FROM OUT OF NOWHERE!!!– with a microphone in hand. She steps in front of Flawless, who looks at her like she just gave up halfway into a blowjob.
Missy: Kelly, do you think you could–
Kelly crinkles his nose, as if she had just farted.
KFlaw: Kelly? The fuck–? You think we’re on a first name basis? I don’t even know who the fuck ya are, bitch.
Missy: Oh– I, uh. My name is Missy Andrews, I perform–
KFlaw: Oral sex, from the sounds of things. Mikey Plow told me about you, you’re the chick who scraps his papa’s taint like his pubes cure cancer.
Missy turns a deep crimson, lowering her head at the degradation. There is a slight twinge in KFlaw’s pants, as if watching her look ashamed was actually giving him an erection.
KFlaw: Make it fast, honey. Start talking or start sucking, KFlaw’s got priorities and watching you flap that goo trap isn’t one of them.
Missy: Uhm– I, uh. Shit.
KFlaw: TALK, bitch! It asks the questions or it gets the Flawless! Fuckin’ Christ, every piece of tail in this joint is either retarded or retarded and whorish.
Missy clears her throat, trying to focus.
Missy: You don’t have to talk to me like that. I just want to know exactly what just happened, and what Lee Best had to say while you were in his office.
KFlaw: Did I bring a camera in there with me?
Missy: Uh– no.
KFlaw: Did Lee Best ask a cameraman to join us in there?
Missy lowers her gaze, looking toward the floor.
KFlaw: Eyes up here with me, cunt. The schnauzzberries taste like schnauzzberries but I don’t have any fuckin’ golden tickets left for a cawk gawker, got me? I want you to listen close– if I didn’t bring a fucking camera, then it’s none of your fucking business? That clear?
Missy: Well… is there anything you can tell me about the meeting? I’m sorry, I’m just– I’m just trying to do my job.
Missy begins to look sad, believe it or not. Apparently, even hose bags have feelings occasionally.
KFlaw: Yeah, there is. But if you want a real interview, maybe you come find me next week– then you can interview Kelly Flawless, new HOFC Champion.
Missy: You’ve already been granted and HOFC title match? What on earth did you say to Lee that–
KFlaw: Didn’t I just say it was none of your taint tickling business, you fucking cunt? The fuck does it matter, anyway? Christopher America oughta know by now that the second you walk into the HOW, they hand you a fuckin’ Members Only jacket and a contract to bounce his weird shaped head off some concrete. He’ll have plenty of time to bide in a Chicago hospital, at least…
Flawless gives her a half mocking salute, followed by a quick double tug at his junk as he turns and walks away from her without another word. Missy shrugs.
Missy: Kelly Flawless versus Christopher America, on next week’s Turmoil, for the HOFC Championship. I guess there’s literally nothing more to report than that. Back to ringside with you guys, Joe and Benny.
The camera cuts back to the arena, as the next match gets set to begin.
Ethan Cavanaugh vs. Mario Maurako
Joe Hoffman: Welcome back to Thursday Night Turmoil, folks, where – moving right along – we’re ready for the anticipated affair between former World champion Mario Maurako and Ethan Cavanaugh.
Benny Newell: Hasn’t Mario had enough affairs lately?
Joe Hoffman: No, not that kind of affair! I’m talking about our next match, which is geared to start any second now if you were paying any attention coming out from commercial break.
Benny Newell: Fuck! We went to commercial? That means I missed my shit break!
As Benny removes his headset and scurries up the entrance ramp, referee Joel Hortega calls for the bell having been thorough in his pre-match weapons check of Cavanaugh and Maurako. After removing several items from the trunks of both wrestlers, Hortega watches as the two stare each other down in the center of the ring; neither man budging in their stance as the crowd begins to grow restless, tossing trash inside the ring. Suddenly, everyone’s attention is diverted to the stage as ‘Circus’ by Britney Spears cues up; the crowd exploding for the beloved “Queen of Epicness”.
Joe Hoffman: That’s Bobbinette Carey-Maurako’s theme music!
Much to the chagrin of the fans, Bobbinette fails to appear on the stage, but proves successful in the distraction of her husband, Mario Maurako.
Joe Hoffman: Pele Kick from Cavanaugh! Mario is down!
Chuckling at his opponent’s misfortune, Cavanaugh sneers as he watches Mario struggle to his feet. Dusting off the cobwebs, Mario swings wildly, only to get caught in Ethan’s new combination finisher.
Joe Hoffman: He calls it the ‘Via Victis’, folks! Just imagine the amount pressure that he’s applying on Mario’s neck, back, and lungs!
Screaming in agony, Mario holds on as long as possible but is left with no other choice but to tap out to Ethan’s submission.
Bryan McVay: Here is your winner by way of submission in 1:14… ETHAN CAVANAUGH!!!
Joe Hoffman: Hold it! What now? Is that? Yes! That’s Christopher America!
With literally no time to celebrate his quick, decisive victory over Mario Maurako, Cavanaugh is blind-sided by his “slave”, Christopher America, who flat-out destroys him out of nowhere with his trademark American steel chair!
Joe Hoffman: We’ve seen that same steel chair used before against the likes of Bobbinette Carey’s forehead and Ryan Faze’s knee… and tonight, America is using it again to exact some revenge on Ethan Cavanaugh!
Drenched in sweat from his match with Marcus Reinhardt, America clenches the chair tightly and hammers away at Cavanaugh, beating him absolutely senseless until he opens up a considerable gash on Ethan’s forehead. As Cavanaugh’s blood spills onto the canvas, Mario begins coming to his senses, but not before a mob of High Octane security guards storm down the entrance ramp to separate Christopher America from his ‘master’. Soon, Mario is restrained as well before it becomes 2-on-1 against Cavanaugh and the guards escort them separately to the stage, both of them signing the ‘A-o-A’ and ‘4-Life’ signs to each other upon breaking free from the guards’ grasp.
Joe Hoffman: Could it be?!? Are the Argonauts of Awesome reuniting here on Turmoil?!?!?
Nodding and smirking to each other, the former HOW Stable champions exit the stage, disappearing behind the curtain to the delight and dismay of the crowd, who are really unsure of how they should react. Back at ringside, medics help Cavanaugh out of the ring as Benny returns to the announcer’s booth, clearly out-of-breath as Joe tries to figure out where he appeared from.
Benny Newell (breathing heavily): What’d… what’d I miss?
Joe Hoffman: Nothing, Benny… nothing. Let’s just head backstage …
Benny Newell: You mean I didn’t wipe for NOTHING? Fuckin’-A, Joe!
A Costly ICONIC moment?
The camera cuts backstage, just outside a smallish janitor’s closet near the boiler room of the Kallisten Coliseum. Though it’s on the polar opposite end of the arena from the locker room area, there is piece of paper taped to the door of the closet. On a plain sheet of wide ruled notebook paper, a star is drawn in black marker, along with the name “James Ranger”.
In the distance, the sounds of the boiler room practically drown out any other noises in the area. Thus, when the door opens and out steps HOW probationary wrestling James ‘Black Mamba’ Ranger, there isn’t a sound to be heard when he slams it behind him. He looks less than pleased. With a turn of his head, Ranger stares over at the rest of the hallway leading to the boiler room, contemplating something potentially unwise, until he is suddenly bumped into by a strange looking man who scurries into the camera’s view. Ranger simply stares down at the man, realizing something is amiss yet familiar about his appearance.
Strange Man: Oh deary me, Mr. Ranger, I do deeply apologize for running into you like that. I ought to watch where I’m going. I am quite glad I ran into you, however– I do believe I’m suppose to conduct a face to face dissertation with you tonight.
The man speaks in a deep south, old gentlemanly voice. Even more strange, he’s wearing an entire crisp white suit, complete with ruffles. A gray wig sits upon his head, along with a pair of wire frame glasses and a big gray false mustache. To summarize, really– he looks like Colonel Sanders and Albert Einstein may have conceived a child. In one hand, he carries a cane, and in the other an official HOW microphone. To the less-than-trained eye, it is immediately obvious that it is ICON Champion ChristPlow, dressed as an old southern gentlemen– Ranger seems to immediately pick up on this as well.
Ranger tries his best not to laugh, supressing a sneer and getting very serious. He smiles respectfully before extending his hand.
Ranger: Well then, you must be a new HOW interviewer? Hired by that despicable HOW Owner Lee Best, I imagine. Man, is he a real bastard. A real, horrible bastard. And that kid of his? What a shit head. Hope you never have to interview him. A pleasure to meet you.
A scowl comes over the face of the ill-disguised ChristPlow. He quickly swallows the irritation, trying to remain professional.
ChristPlow: Well now I wouldn’t go sayin’ such terrible things about a man like Mistah Best. I do solemnly believe that he is a savior to the business of professional wrastlin’. And I’m afraid I haven’t met his son yet, but I hear he’s quite the handsome devil. All that aside, I do believe I have been rude, Mistah Ranger. You have introduced yourself to me, while I have not afforded you that same common courtesy. The name is Thomas. Thomas Jefferson.
Ranger smirks, humoring the ‘strange man’ in front of him.
Ranger: Thomas Jefferson? Like, the third President of the United States?
ChristPlow: …uh, of course not. That would just be silly, wouldn’t it now Mistah Ranger? My full name is– uhm– George Thomas Washington Jefferson. The second. However, I did not wish to abuse my father’s lineage to enhance my own rise to fame in the world of professional interviewing, and so I have adopted a stage name, if you will. Do you have a few moments to answer some queries, Mistah Ranger?
Ranger smirks becomes a full fledged grin, as approaches the ‘interviewer’.
Ranger: I believe I can spare the time for you Mister….what should i call you again?
ChristPlow: I say, son, my name is George Thomas Washington Jefferson. You can call me Thomas, if you like. Or George. Or just Jefferson. In truth, Mistah Ranger, it does not make a difference to me what you choose to call me, as long as I can have a few moments of your time. I undahstand you are a very busy man here in the HOW, and your time is very, very vaulable. What are some of your responsibilities here within the company, as of current?
Ranger: Well then, “Mistah Jefferson”, you could say I am the ‘enhancement talent’ of HOW. I help up-and-comers along with their careers, and try to give a challenge to the new boys in the back who want to make a name for themselves. Occasionally, I also like to listen in to Lee Best and his bitch boy retard kid talk about how they rule the wrestling business, yada yada– but that’s only a small, very boring part of my average HOW day.
ChristPlow once again scowls, his lower lip beginning to quiver as a snarl builds in the back of his throat. He takes a deep breath, clearing his throat and giving himself a moment to calm down.
ChristPlow: Interesting that you qualify yourself as an employed wrestler, Mistah Ranger. It seems the general opinion in the offices and behind the scenes within the HOW would suggest that you’re essentially an office assistant. Is there any truth to the rumor that a large, strapping young man like yourself is more likely to be seen with a clipboard in his hands, wrestling with paper cuts and copy machines than inside an actual wrestling ring?
Ranger sneers, putting his hands in his pockets while looking the ‘interviewer’ up and down. He clears his throat, regains his composure before flashing a toothy smile.
Ranger: What the offices and the backstage hands say about me is not important. Any ‘large, strapping young man’ like myself would be seen in the wrestling ring, dreaming to make it big in the business. Whoever told you I would spend my time looking for a First Aid Kit and filing papers?
Ranger leans in closer towards ChristPlow, eyeing the him directly.
Ranger: What REALLY bothers me is that you presume to think that I would be working behind the scenes instead of breaking a sweat in the ring.
The costumed ChristPlow smirks, still not realizing he’s already been figured out.
ChristPlow: I beg a thousand pardons, Mistah Ranger. I am simply the messenger, I would plead with you not to fire upon me. It’s just that in preparation for this interview, I found that most people in HOW have simply nevah heard of you. An insignificant spec on the radar of such a large, overwhelming company. And then when I discovered that your domicile was in a janitor’s closet? Well, you can see where an old man like myself could become confused. After all, I don’t believe I’ve seen you in a ring in quite some time– and when exactly is the last time you won a match here in High Octane Wrestling?
Ranger smiles fades to a frown, as he quickly takes a moment to ponder this, pretending to be unsure.
Ranger: Well… uhm… just before my tag team was fired from the company. Against Extreme Kaos. I’m sure you heard of them right? Creepy fellows they were. Just as creepy as Lee Best’s insatiable urge to have a girl on her knees every hour on the hour… and as disgusting as the self-proclaimed ChristPlow that reeks of filth and lies.
The ICON Champion doesn’t even pretend to hide the look of displeasure on his face this time.
ChristPlow: I say, boy, didn’t anyone evah tell you it’s disrespectful to speak ill of folks who aren’t present to defend themselves? Or that you sound like a book of walking wrestling cliches? Those are rhetorical questions, of course– no need to answer them. Instead, I’ll pose you the question everyone wants to know the answer to. Next week, the ICON Champion, Mistah Michael Plow, has afforded you an opportunity to compete for his championship live on Turmoil. Of course, you have wagered against him half of your HOW bank account. What makes you so sure that you can defeat an athlete so strong, so charismatic, and so damn impressive in the ring? Are you not simply awaiting another embarrassment at the hands of the Best family?
Ranger starts to quietly laugh, only increasing the anger in ChristPlow’s face.
Ranger: My my… what a big mouth you have there ‘Mistah Jefferson’. If I didn’t know any better… and I SO do know better, I’d say that I am speaking to one pathetic, one sleazy, one goddamn ugly ICON Champion… Michael… Motherfucking… Plow-Best.
He takes a menacing half step toward Plow, who quickly looks around for someone– anyone– to help him. He gulps, hard.
ChristPlow: I assure you, my good suh, that nothing could be furthah from the truth. I am not this– ICON Champion– to whom you refer. Even in my youngah days, growing up on the farm with my fathah and his mistress, I do not believe I could have passed for that handsome, talented man of which you speak. He may very well be the greatest wrastlin’ sensation in the history of the HOW, and maybe even the world. Me? I’m just a tired old southern man, trying to make a living. I should be going, though, Mistah Ranger, as I do believe I have more interviews to conduct this evening. Thank you for your time.
With haste, ChristPlow begins to shuffle away, using the cane as if he needs it. However, with a sinister grin, Ranger quickly approaches the ill-deguised ICON Champion. He spins him around, slapping him across the face in the same fashion MPlow slapped him the week before. ChristPlow, caught off guard, is taken completely off his feet and he lands flat on his ass. His mustache falls off, and he quickly attempts to collect it as he runs off down the hallway, yelling behind him.
ChristPlow: I’ll have your ass for this, Ranger. Your ass and half your fucking bank account! I’m gonna fucking murder you!
He disappears around a corner, leaving Ranger shaking his head in disbelief.
Ranger: What a bitch.
He shakes his head, walking off camera and down the hallway as the camera cuts to commercial.
Next week on Turmoil..
ICON Title Match
Black Mamba vs. Mike Best©
HOFC Title Match
Kelly Flawless vs. Christopher America©
Pre Match Interview
The show once again returns to the always-eventful backstage area of the Kallisten Coliseum where a solitary arm reaches up from out of view, revealing itself to be holding a small bottle of soda labelled as Dr. Thunder. Although to whom the arm actually belongs remains unknown. The hidden figure holds the bottle to their unseen lips and takes a long sip.
‘Ahh…there’s nothing more refreshing than a cool glass – or bottle – of Dr. Thunder!’
The label remains in view for a moment and then vanishes once again out of view from the camera. Those in the know immediately recognise the voice as that of former World and ICON champion, Shane Reynolds. Those not in the knew–well, they continue looking on towards the HOV screen baffled, as before the camera can complete it’s turn to get Shane in shot, he holds his hand up to stop them.
Shane Reynolds: Whoa there, sparky. It’s not quite time for the huge reveal just yet. Keep the focus on the Madame over there.
The camera does just that, panning back enough to pull the image of Missy Andrews into clear view of the shot
Missy Andrews: I–I….
Her words stutter as she stares towards Shane, clearly let in on whatever he’s hiding from public view.
Shane Reynolds: I know, I know. My presence is overwhelming, especially in the knowledge of my new destiny and current attire. But relax. Have some of my—
Shane once again thrusts the bottle up in front of the camera lens, label directed outwards.
Shane Reynolds: –Dr. Thunder. Like Dr. Pepper but British…and cheaper. I got it on export while trying to arrange sponsorship. Go on, it’ll help! I’d even offer to wipe the end, but let’s face it….You’ve wrapped your lips around far worse.
An unseen look of disgust appears on Shane’s unseen face, immediately spilling into his tone of voice.
Shane Reynolds: On seconds thoughts, I think it’ll be safer and healthier for me if I keep it for myself.
Missy Andrews: Can we just get this interview over with?
She says, finding the words now that sheer annoyance has overridden her surprise over what Shane is currently dressed like.
Shane Reynolds: At your ready.
Missy Andrews: Last week, you succeeded in a triple threat first-blood match, defeating, at the time, two of your War Games teammates: J****n *D****t and Aceldama….
She begins, the name J****n D****t bleeped out as though they are words as disgusting to sensitive ears as cunt and dried-in cumstain – which, ironically, are considered acceptable.
Missy Andrews: How will this effect the moral and unity of the team heading forward?
Shane contemplates silently for a few moments.
Shane Reynolds: Frankly, it can’t be good. Last week before the show, Aceldama approached in my locker-room and he said, “Shane, old buddy….please can you let me win tonight. I’ll let you make J****n D****t bleed, but please let me get you and win the match. I need the momentum before my world championship match. Pleeeeeeeeaaaasssseeee!’
Missy stares at Shane, completely disbelieving as Shane draws out the word please to sound as whiny and pleading as that from a young child desperately needing the latest fad of a toy.
Missy Andrews: Somehow I can’t see that being tru–
Shane then cuts her off mid-sentence.
Shane Reynolds: I’m not finished. Then he got on his knees and started begging, saying how he would cry again if he didn’t win and that he would cut himself and all sorts of things. It was really quite tragic.
Shane pauses to take another sip from his bottle.
Shane Reynolds: And, remembering the incedent when he stood on the balcony of that building when he lost the title to Issac Slade, I knew he was serious. But what could I do? I was on the beginnings of a major winning streak and a win over the world champion…over Aceldama….is what I’ve been after for months. And let’s face it, if I’d lost – even through little him win – I might have ended up e-lapsing again.
Missy Andrews: You mean relapsing?
Shane Reynolds: No, do I look like a retard?–
Her eyebrows raised in answer, once again measuring up Shane’s current appearance.
Shane Reynolds: –I know what I meant. E-lapsing….as in Emo-lapsing. I couldn’t let that happen, so whatever the consequences, I had to do what I had to do: make that son of a bitch bleed and continue my roll.
Missy Andrews: And do you think you’ll be able to keep up your roll tonight?
Shane Reynolds: If it was a handicap match, I’d be saying, “Does Bobbinette Carey suffer Maurako Island crabs”, which is to say most definitely. But….I have Scottywood for a partner….a man still probably butt-hurt by what Lee Best did that he has trouble even sitting down to pee now. But that’s not the question you should even be asking.
Missy Andrews: Well, what is then?
Shane Reynolds: While my streak proved more important than helping Aceldama maintain his momentum, is it more important than allowing Simon Sparrow the momentum to break him down even further and take that championship from him.
Missy Andrews: Is it?
Shane Reynolds: I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.
Shane offers one unseen smile, before turning away from Missy Andrews and heading back off down a hidden-from-view stretch of corridor, with an odd and surprisingly familiar clip-clop sound.
“About us” By T.A.T.U. plays. Bobbinette Carey-Maurako walks out with a smirk as she swaggers down to the ring. She walks down to the ring with a mixed reaction of the crowd. She narrows her eyebrows putting her hands on her hips at the bottom of the ramp. She looks around the arena then heads up the steps getting into the ring. She gets handed a mic as she waits for her theme music to finally end.
Bobbinette: Last time you all saw me I was choking out my bitch ass husband Mario.
The crowd has a mixed reaction for the attack Bobbinette gave to Mario Maruako.
Bobbinette: I asked that fool for a divorce he did a bitch move knocked me out shoved me on a boat. But my Idiot of a husband did point out that I’d need to go through the king. AND I went to my.. father in law Matteo… I had to talk with the king and… use some “Female persuasions”
She says licking her lips
Bobbinette: To get him to see my side of things… Let’s see what Pappa in law had to say.
“Hunt You Down” By Saliva hits as King Matteo comes out and waves to the subjects in the arena. The fans are unsure of how to react toward the patriarch of the Maruako family as he gets down to the ring. Bobbinette holds the ropes open for the older man as he gets in. Bobbinette plants a big one on him grabbing his butt. The crowd seems in shock at Bobbinette’s sexuality with her father in law.
Matteo: Yes you did persuade me to see your side of things… I’m not proud of what my son did… But you two have been doing things back and forth to one and other… I hate to see lovers quarrel.
Bobbinette puts her hands on her hips looking at him with narrowed eyebrows.
Matteo: But I think the best way to settle this between you two, and as king of the island I will decree… A ladder match at Wargames.
Bobbinette’s jaw drops as she looks at Matteo screaming “WHAT?!” Matteo puts his hands up to try and calm her down.
Matteo: There will be a briefcase hanging high above the ring with signed, but unwritten divorce papers. Bobbinette if you win you will win the rights to Maurako Island. But if Mario wins, he will win all the money in your bank account.
Bobbinette yanks the mic from Matteo’s hands.
Bobbinette: I fucked your wrinkled ass for a match? YOU said that You would give me my divorce.
Matteo: AND you said you were a virgin! See we both lied!
Bobbinette turns away from Matteo and looks at the crowd. She turns around and forearms him into the corner. Matteo is shocked and stumbles backwards. Matteo slowly comes out of the corner and is hit with a bulldog (Bobbuster). Bobbinette flips over Matteo and puts him in the cross face (Royal lock). She seems adamant about hurting Matteo. Suddenly the crowd begins to cheer as Mario comes sprinting down the isle. Bobbinette sees Mario coming and releases the hold and then she slides out of the ring as Mario slides and checks on his father. Mario glares at Bobbinette as she slowly backs up the ramp with an evil grin on her face.
As we take our final commercial break before the Main Event.
WAR GAMES MATCH
Aceldama©, David Black , Shane Reynolds, Scottywood, Crow and Marcus Reinhardt vs. Simon Sparrow, Max Kael, Mark O’Neal, ChristPlow© and Ryan Faze©
HOFC TITLE MATCH
Ethan Cavanaugh vs. Christopher America©
A MARVELOUS EPIC LADDER MATCH
Mario Maurako vs. Bobbinette Carey
SEX N VIOLENCE MATCH
Carmen Jennings vs. Static
Ringside in the Kallisten Arena. The lights dim and “Everybody Wants You” by Billy Squier blares throughout the venue. The crowd cheers as Simon Sparrow emerges from the curtain wearing his ring gear including a black “SCAT” baseball jersey with gold lettering. The back reads “SPARROW” over “1”. Sparrow stops and Bethany emerges wearing a black V neck blouse and jeans. They interlock arms and walk down the ramp towards the ring.
Hoffmann: Simon Sparrow and his entourage, if you will, are heading towards the ring and rumor has it Benny, he has a major announcement concerning next week’s championship match against Aceldama!
Newell: Fuck that, Joe!
Hoffmann: It’s a huge match, Benny!
Newell: No, I’m talking about Bethany Sparrow’s ass!!!
Hoffmann: I would watch myself, Benny. I heard Simon Sparrow is none too happy with your comments about his wife last week.
Newell: Freedom of press, Joe! Silencing me would be an act of terrorism! So Simon Sparrow would have to kick his own ass!!!
Simon Sparrow walks up the ring steps and enters the ring. He pulls up the bottom rope to allow his lovely wife access to the ring as ring announcer Brian McVey slides a microphone into the ring. Bethany bends down….
Hoffmann: Benny what’s that on….ARE YOU DROOLING???
Newell: Who me? No fucking way!
….and picks up the microphone as the music fades.
Bethany: Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to announce to you….the next HOW Champion….and the man who will….
Simon Sparrow leans in and begins whispering into Bethany’s ear.
Bethany (reciting): …smite the walking dead known as Shane Reynolds so that he can never again feast on the brains of…
Bethany turns towards Sparrow with a confused look on her face. Sparrow, in turn, pushes her to continue.
Bethany: ….retarded one armed monkeys. And finally show the world that he can defeat that transgender, hockey stick wielding vagina, Scottywood…..SIMON SPARROW!!!
The crowd cheers as Bethany hands the microphone to her husband, who turns and faces his fans.
Simon Sparrow: You know, it makes sense, in a way. Wolfgang Bruggemann coming out last week, dejected and disheartened at the fact that he will never, EVER be inducted in the HOW Hall of Fame. He looks at me and sees everything that he has coveted in his putrid existence but has always eluded him. A beautiful wife, Bethany. I have a beautiful baby boy…well, I guess he’s a technically a toddler. Well, I have a terrific toddler boy. That sounds stupid…I think I’ll stick with baby boy….Infant?
Simon Sparrow turns to his wife.
Simon Sparrow: Is infant better?
Bethany just waves him on to get moving.
Simon Sparrow: In any case, I have a wife, a son, friends. He resents that and he resents that unlike his obsolete “Uprising“, “SCAT” has been successful! The “Uprising” did not die in a blaze or glory, it died with a whimper.
And after last week’s pathetic display, the HOW Champion made another revelation! Another reason why he harbors such resentment towards me: The fact that I am in the Hall of Fame and he’s not! And guess what? As long I’m alive, he will never, EVER be inducted into the HOW Hall of—-
Suddenly Aceldama’s music comes onto the PA system as the fans are about to see the World Champion interrupting his opponent for said title next week on Turmoil. He walks out onto the ramp and is holding something. Simon Sparrow has a malicious look on his face in response to Aceldama’s insolent disruption of his ring time. Immediately, Bethany screams and tries to charge out of the ring. Everybody within the arena is in a state of shock and is frankly horrified at what they see.
Aceldama is standing at the ramp, dressed in a fine suit, smiling down to the ring………with Anakin Sparrow in his arms! Simon Sparrow holds his wife back, who is struggling to break free.
Aceldama: Easy Bethany, nothing is going to happen to Anakin I promise, not unless your husband agrees to these terms. A bargaining chip if you will. You see, I simply cannot come down here and try and get what I am about to propose….without having something. So—-
Simon Sparrow: YOU LET GO OF MY—
Aceldama: YOU are no longer in any situation to be calling the shots Simon, so you are simply going to stand there and listen….because my arm is getting tired and I wouldn’t want to drop—-
Simon Sparrow: OKAY!!! OKAY!!!
Bethany is literally in tears on her knees, holding onto Sparrows leg as he looks on at Aceldama, the smiling and blissfully unaware Anakin in the arms of Aceldama. Simon Sparrow is shaking with anger.
Aceldama: As you are very much aware by now I have purchased a lumberjack stipulation for our world title match next week. Your team, or should I say….Lees team, will be at ringside, as will mine. But I did not come out here to tell you something you already know, that would be foolish of me. It has come to my attention…….that you, or sorry, my bad again, Lee, is trying to BUY your way to the title. What’s that Simon, you don’t believe me? Have a look for yourself…..
The HOV screen rolls as it is a still shot of the door of Lee Best, a few seconds passes without anything happening, then the door opens and someone is seen coming out, not before turning around and talking…we catch the audio feed as it is projected throughout the arena….
???: In all my years working here Lee I have never thrown a match, I cannot believe you would ask me to do such a thing!
The person turns and we see it is none other than Matt Boettcher who seems upset and irate that he has been asked to do such a thing, he closes the door and walks away.
Aceldama: Oh but wait…..it gets better.
The same door is seen and again it opens and the person turns, just like Boettcher and speaks to the inside. It is obvious from the accent who this person is, it is Joel Hortega*
Hortega: Si senor, you make me very happy. This money I send back to family, papa is very poorly. Muchos Gracias senor.
Hortega turns around and closes the door, smiling away to himself as the HOV screen ends as Aceldama stands smiling, masking the child’s in his arms.
Aceldama: Every man has his price it seems. This I cannot allow. And I know deep down, this is not the way you want to win the belt, so something must be done, a replacement. So my terms are, I name the referee for this match, someone who I am sure will call this down the middle and give us the match we both know we want. I get what I want, Anakin goes back to his loving parents. You refuse…..oh dear god Sparrow you do not want to know what I will do.
Simon Sparrow: I DO NOT NEGOTIATE WITH TERRORISTS!!!!
Aceldama: You know what I am capable of, don’t try my patience please.
Simon Sparrow: I DO NOT—
Aceldama: I see you need more convincing. Would you like to see what happened to your “little” friend???
The HOV comes to life again this time showing the boiler room of the Kallisten Arena. There is a small pool of blood on the concrete floor. The camera pans upward and a moaning and bleeding Louis the Little Person hanging by his feet approximately four feet from the floor in his Hanes tighty-whities. His face has been badly beaten. His left eye has been swollen shut, his nose broken. The transmission ends.
Bethany is a crying mess on the mat and a disgusted Sparrow looks over at his child who is in Aceldama’s arms then slowly moves the microphone to his mouth. He looks down at his wife and closes his eyes.
Simon Sparrow: I’m listening. But I assure you…if one hair on my child gets touched I swear to Buddha, God, Allah, Vishnu, Zeus, Lee Best….I will kill—
Aceldama: Enough of the dramatics, Simon. It’s time to talk business, but before I do, a quick question. Do you love your wife Simon?
Simon Sparrow, his eyes red, a tear running down his left cheek, looks down at his wife. He manages a small smile.
Simon Sparrow: Love is not a big enough word for what I feel about Bethany.
Aceldama: I always dreamed of a life like yours, the loving wife, the beautiful son, but then I thought…..who could ever love me? What child would want to grow up to become….me? You see Simon, even though I dream of such a life, and I see it thrown in my face in black and white does not mean I deserve it. Just like you do not deserve this chance at the world title, but you got your little piece of paper, and I guess I will humour you just this once. Let you dream of such things you cannot achieve. Now…..let’s get back to business, Anakin misses his mummy, let’s not deprive the child. I have noticed in the past few weeks your wife has been here quite often, every week it seems.
Simon Sparrow: Very good, Captain Observant. I believe in family. I believe that with the support of my family I can accomplish anything!
Aceldama: I thought you might say something like that. It is so heartwarming to know that you wish to share with your life this wonderful, but also dangerous world we live in. I am sure you were aware of the danger she is in being in such a high risk place, so many….lunatics around here and such. You like having her close? You like to have your wife sharing in your work life? Fine….I have decided on the referee. Next week……the special referee for the world title match will be none other than………BETHANY SPARROW!!!!
Joe Hoffmann: What!?!? He cannot do that!
Benny Newell: Bethany Sparrow tapping the canvas and asking two men if they submit? Sounds kinky to me.
Simon Sparrow stands watching Aceldama as his wife is now standing up and facing him shaking her head, adamant for him not to agree to these terms. He puts his hand on her shoulder and pushes her softly out of the way, attracting his attention back to Aceldama*
Simon Sparrow: Fine…..have it your way. The better man will be standing at the end, the world champion.
Aceldama: Indeed Simon. Now, you have verbally agreed to this so your side of the bargain is done. Now I will stick to mine…..
Aceldama softly sets Anakin down on the ramp and kneels down in front of him, smiling as he looks towards the horrified parents.
Aceldama: You say as long as you are alive I will never be in the Hall of Fame? Careful what you wish for Simon. Oh….and Simon? Just in case you think you are going to run to your foster daddy Lee and try and have this rescinded, just a little token of how serious you should take my threats.
Aceldama puts two fingers on the forehead of Anakin who seems confused as to what is happening. In between the thumb and finger he grabs a single hair folicle and plucks it from the child’s head and he immediately begins to cry. Aceldama stands up waving the hair at Sparrow stares at Aceldama for a moment. Expressionless, he brings his thumb across his neck and shrugs as he says….
Simon Sparrow: You’re dead. Next week….I’m going to kill you.
Aceldama: Like you promised? I‘d like to see you try. Bye Bye Simon, until next week…….
As Anakin begins to awkwardly walk down the ramp towards the ring, Bethany runs out of the ring, meeting his mother halfway. She picks him up and hugs him like she’ll never let go.
Simon Sparrow: Before you leave, Walrus McPoopypants….
Aceldama smiles and laughs to himself as he turns around.
Simon Sparrow: There is one thing I think you should know….
Aceldama looks at Sparrow clearly disinterested in what he has to say, but is humoring him nonetheless.
Simon Sparrow: The name on that contract next week isn’t Simon Sparrow…..It’s JATT STARR!
Newell: YES!!! JATT STARR IS BACK, BITCHES!!!!!
Hoffmann: The disgusting display we have just seen, you’re happy???
Newell: Didn’t you hear me??? JATT STARR IS BACK, BITCHES!!!!
Aceldama narrows his eyes a bit, but his face is still expressionless. A slight smirk crosses his face and he leaves the ringside area as Bethany brings Anakin back towards the ring. Sparrow exit’s the ring and tends to his wife and son. His shoves him and begins screaming at him as………
The lights in the Kallisten Coliseum begin to dim, as suddently a powerful choir can be heard blasting over the speakers.
Choir: HAAAALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HALLEEEEEEELUUUUUJAH!
Newell: HALLELUJAH INDEED!!! JATT FUCKING STARR, BITCHES!!!
The choir music trails on longer than is typically normal, whilst the small tide of fog is notably absent from around the entrance. None of which seems to hinder Benny’s increasing excitement over the imminent arrival of the son of Lee Best as Simon Sparrow has a “What now?” look on his face.
Joe Hoffmann: I think Mike Plow is too little too late to help Simon.
Benny Newell: This is getting better! Here he comes! The Lord and Saviour of all….
Hoffman sighs, his eyes simultaneously rolling as Simon Sparrow pulls his wife and child back towards the announce booth.
Joe Hoffman: Does nobody think this is getting tiresome now?
Benny Newell: Hush your blasphemous mouth before he flexes his christian curse mojo.
Joe Hoffman: A curse?
Benny Newell: Yes, a curse. Ya know, like when you fuck an ugly woman and accidentally smother her while trying to block out her face and her gypsy family come around in revenge.
Joe Hoffman: You copied that from the Stephen King book….inaccurately.
Benny Newell: ….Umm, yeah. Copied! Maybe he can use his voodoo powers and heal that midget of Jatt Starr’s!!! Speaking of fucking miracles….
He pulls out a fresh bottle of Jack and unscrews the cap, mumbling on as he does.
Benny Newell: Turn me into…make me into an alcoholic. Pfft. Yeah right.
He takes a long sip from it, as Hoffman rolls his eyes yet again, and the spotlight finally makes its traditional appearance. Rather than point to area at the top of the ramp, however, it’s pointed straight up to the rafters where a figure can already be seen – draped in a white robe. And as the figure nears the ring, a halo held above there head on a halo.
Benny Newell: That’s not–that’s not him!
He yells, so emphatically it’s any wonder the bottle of jack in his hand didn’t break as his arm swung wildly down towards the announcer’s table.
Joe Hoffman: How can you even tell that from here?
Benny Newell: Because I’ve been touched by that man–
Joe Hoffman: Maybe you should report that to the pope.
Hoffman cuts in, but it goes completely unnoticed by his tirading co-announcer.
Benny Newell: —After last week’s show, I was blind and thought I would see nothing but darkness ever again. Then he laid his touch upon me, healed me and guided me home.
Joe Hoffman: No. I was there. You blacked out backstage….and it wasn’t the touch of Christ that helped you – it was the Chicago PD.
Benny Newell: Well, that’s what non-believer would say.
The enrobed figure lowers fully into the right now, a microphone already in one hand whilst the other warmly acknowledges the fans. The fans responding with a mixed reaction to the–surprising-fact that Benny Newell was right: the man standing in the ring isn’t Mike Plow….
….but Shane Reynolds.
Benny Newell: How fucking dare he? The emo bastard. The blaspheming prick. The….the…..dirty fucking BLASPHEMO!!!!
Joe Hoffman: That doesn’t even make any sense!
Benny Newell: KICK HIS HEATHEN ASS, JATT STARR!!!
No more responses come from the announcer’s table. Whilst in the ring, Shane Reynolds smiles from beneath the fake beard he also wears and raises the microphone to his mouth.
Shane Reynolds: Ladies, gentleman, and children of all ages….you can now rest peacefully in your seats, because I am here at last. I know certain people have tried to steal my quest, my bestowed purpose, but as I said before if anybody is the true lord and saviour and will show the people of HOW the way, it’s me.
Shane pauses for reaction, which remains mixed as Simon Sparrow continues to console his family in the corner, fighting his zombie smiting instincts knowing that his family is more important than the deluded ravings of a brain eater.
Shane Reynolds: I was buried alive, after all, damn it…and still able to return to bless with with my arrival from above. But if that isn’t enough. And if the fact I proved my skill and power two weeks ago against Mike Plow wasn’t enough. Well, I’m just gonna have to prove it again tonight. So bring it on the blasphemers.
Shane tosses the microphone away into the crowd and begins stripping off the robe – although leaving the fake-beard on as though real – revealing his wrestling attire beneath, as the crowd await the arrival of his tag-team partner and opponents for the night.
Hoffmann: Ladies and gentlemen, we have just received word that Lee Best has issued a security escort for Bethany and Anakin Sparrow. Also, Louis the Little Person has been found and taken to the infirmary and—
Newell: Who gives a shit about that midget? We’re about to have a fucking match and Jatt Starr is gonna go fucking Rambo on some motherfuckers!!!
Hoffmann: Simon Sparrow—
Newell: He’s Jatt Fucking Starr!!!
Simon Sparrow sends his wife and child over the barricade where the eight armed security personnel ordered to protect Bethany and Anakin have just arrived, six of which have their hands on their tasers, dying to use them should some fan hop the barrier and interrupt the match. Six of the guards surround Bethany as Simon Sparrow looks towards the ring, clenching his fists tightly, gritting his teeth, awaiting his partner.
Shane Reynolds & Scottywood vs. Simon Sparrow & Mike Best
Tag Team Match
OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH! You gotta’ keep ‘em separated…
Suddenly, the tune of “Stricken” by Disturbed hits the speakers, producing “The Hardcore Artist” Scottywood from the back. Accompanied by his longtime cohort and adopted son, Frankie the Cameraman, Scotty carries his barbed-wire hockey stick to the ring, sliding inside to join his tag team partner, Shane Reynolds.
Benny Newell: This should be good. I can’t wait to watch the Traitor and the She-mo get destroyed by Team Best!
Joe Hoffman: You don’t think that Aceldama’s announcement regarding next week’s World Title match will serve to distract one, Simon Sparrow?
Benny Newell: Like that is going to matter! Come on, Joe… we’re talking about Jatt fucking Starr and the almighty power of ChristPlow! Shane and Scotty don’t stand a chance!
Joe Hoffman: Well, we’ll see about that as Shane Reynolds and Scottywood present a tough combined challenge; both of whom are two of the most decorated, accomplished superstars on our roster.
As Scotty and Shane discuss their game plan, Simon Sparrow awaits the arrival of his tag team partner as DC Talk’s “Jesus Freak” kicks in. Accompanied by his Best Image Consultants – Darren and Sidney – ChristPlow emerges to tremendous heat from the crowd, possibly the biggest heat of the night, save for maybe his father and God of HOW, Lee Best. After a long, almighty stroll down the entrance ramp, ChristPlow – dressed in his robe, loose tie and sans beard – greets Sparrow near the bottom of the entrance ramp. With their backs turned to the ring, they discuss strategy, only to turn around to find Scottywood Gorilla Press Shane Reynolds and toss him over the top rope.
Joe Hoffman: Whoa! Scottywood just tossed his own tag team partner onto Simon Sparrow and ChristPlow!
Benny Newell: Fuck! Wake up out there, you idiots!
With both Team Best members laid out, the crowd responds with a roar of cheers as Shane Reynolds tosses ChristPlow into the ring at Scottywood’s request. Deeming Scottywood and ChristPlow as the legal men, Referee Matt Boettcher starts this match with a call for the bell as Reynolds brawls with Sparrow on the outside.
Joe Hoffman: Scottywood with an STD on MPlow! The “Hardcore Artist” is stomping away at Plow’s throat!
Quickly, Boettcher intervenes and orders Scottywood from any further illegal moves and after some initial hesitation and argument, Scotty obliges. Coughing and gagging from the assault, ChristPlow is able to roll out of the ring where Simon Sparrow has gained the upper-hand on Shane Reynolds, positioning his body over the steel barricade. Taking a several strides back for a running start, Sparrow charges with a splash of his own, only for Shane to move and evade the attack!
Joe Hoffman: Nobody home for Simon Sparrow!
Clenching his mid-section, Sparrow staggers away from the steel barricade, only for Shane to leap on top of it and then off again, catching his fellow Hall of Famer with a Springboard Hurracanrana!
Joe Hoffman: Reynolds is putting on a clinic with his aerial assault!
With MPlow still favoring his throat nearby, Reynolds bashes his head against the ring apron as Scottywood hits a baseball slide for a perfect one-two combination. With ChristPlow down on the outside and Reynolds working on Sparrow, Scottywood drops to his knee and searches under the ring, pulling a large wooden structure out from under it.
Joe Hoffman: Is that…?
Benny Newell: It is! That fucker hid a crucifix under the ring! Get up, ChristPlow! Save him, Jatt!
Grinning sadistically at the crucifix, Scottywood makes his intentions known by grabbing ChristPlow by his head, pulling him up to his feet where ChristPlow quickly raises a knee into Scottywood’s privates, doubling him over in pain!
Benny Newell: Ha ha! Yes! ChristPlow just kicked Scottywood in the vagina!
Meanwhile, Shane Reynolds has taken to the ring apron, where he measures the distance between himself and a staggering Simon Sparrow. Not satisfied with the height of his intended jump, the former ICON and World champion climbs up to the top rope, where he leaps down with his Diablo’s Inferno finisher that ends up missing Simon Sparrow.
Benny Newell: The King of Grapple from the Big Apple is back, baby! That’s vintage Jatt for you right there, Joe! Feigning weakness so that Reynolds would miss his finisher…
Joe Hoffman: Benny, he had no idea what Reynolds was up to. See? He’s still trying to figure out where he’s at!
With Shane Reynolds down and in considerable pain, Matt Boettcher finally restores some order to this match by instructing ChristPlow and Scottywood back to the ring and Sparrow to his team’s corner. Eventually, Reynolds makes it back to his as well, but not before ChristPlow gains a considerable advantage over his tag team partner with a series of suplexes and submissions that flattens the “Hardcore Artist”. Looking for his ‘Christ Effect’ finisher, Plow gets a little too close to his corner where Sparrow slaps him on the back for a blind tag.
Clearly in shock and visibly not happy by this, Plow regretfully heads back to his corner by the order of Matt Boettcher while Sparrow seems happy to finish up what ChristPlow started. Whipping Scottywood into the ropes, Simon flies off the opposite side, connecting with a Spinning Heel Kick on the “Hardcore Artist”. With both men down, Sparrow nips back up to his feet to a mixed reaction from the crowd, stalking and measuring up Scottywood as he staggers to his own.
Benny Newell: FALLING STAR!
Joe Hoffman: The cover! One! Two!! Broken up… by ChristPlow?!?!?!?!?
Tossing Sparrow out of the ring, ChristPlow quickly knocks Shane Reynolds from the ring apron with a charging Dropkick and gathers Scottywood for his own finishing maneuver, the Christ Effect. 3 seconds later, he earns the victory for members of Team SCAT/Best as the entire Kallisten Coliseum is left confused at the conclusion of this Main Event.
Bryan McVay: Here are your winners by way of pin fall in 13:33… CHRISTPLOW… and SIMON SPARROW!!!
Joe Hoffman: Well, I’m just about as confused as every one of you watching at home. Let’s take a look at the replay… ah, yes… right there, Benny. Boettcher sees the re-tag from ChristPlow as Sparrow comes off the ropes. Is Plow’s ego really that huge that he needed to insert himself back into this match? And where was Reynolds during all of this? Clearly, he was the dominant force in this match, only to leave his tag team partner hanging like that? If I didn’t know any better, I’d sense a bit of dissention in BOTH War Games teams after this tag team match.
Benny Newell: Quiet, Joe! Let us celebrate yet another victory by members of Team Best here on Turmoil. DRINK!!
As “Jesus Freak” starts back up throughout the speakers, Reynolds leaves Scottywood in the ring by heading to the back as Sparrow approaches ChristPlow with a ‘what the fuck was that’ type look, only to be restrained by Plow’s gigantic bodyguards.
Joe Hoffman: Look at ChristPlow celebrate! That ego-maniac is ignoring his own tag team partner!
ChristPlow appears to call off his bodyguards, getting ready for a confrontation with the captain of Team Best, but both men are cut off as “Undead” by Hollywood Undead blasts over the speakers of the Kallisten Coliseum.
Joe Hoffman: Uh oh, looks like Lee Best has something to add to this chaos.
Immediately, Sparrow and MPlow straighten up like two children who have been caught misbehaving, as Lee Best steps through the entrance way with a microphone in hand. He’s wearing an especially evil sneer across his face as he steps onto the ramp, holding behind him what looks like a long, chain dog leash.
Lee Best: Good work, boys. Good work indeed. Now STOP FUCKING AROUND AND WORK TOGETHER, GODAMNIT!
Inside the ring, Simon and Mike both nod their heads quickly, looking slightly ashamed in the presence of their figurative (or in this case, MPlow’s literal) father figure. Shane Reynolds, still seething from the loss, slaps Scottywood in the back of the head as they make their departure from ringside, heading up the ramp and off to the wings.
Lee Best: I don’t have time for amateur fucking mistakes just cause you two wanna play Who’s Balls Are Bigger, you got me? But that’s not why I’m out here tonight– I could have yelled at the two of you from my fucking office. I have a surprise… consider it a little victory treat for making me so FUCKING HAPPY tonight and showing Aceldama that his team fucking SUCKS.
He grins like a madman, as he tugs on the leash. Bound and gagged, Justin Decent rolls onto the ramp beside him on a small, flat cart, attached to the other end of the chain. He’s struggling against his restraints, including the now-becoming-customary ball gag, this time with the world “GEOCITIES” printed on the front in white ink. Best tugs again, pulling the former LSD Champion with him down the ramp, stepping out of the way and releasing the leash as the cart speeds ahead of him down the decline, crashing into the ring with a loud ass thump.
Joe Hoffman: Ladies and gentlemen, if you have children watching at home, now might be a good time to send them to bed.
Benny Newell: I’ve said the word fuck at least twenty times tonight, what kind of parents are still letting their kids watch this anyway?
Lee Best: Well don’t just stand there, kids– get him into the ring.
ChristPlow hands the referee his ICON title for a moment, dropping down and sliding out of the ring. Apprehensively, Sparrow joins him. They hoist him off the small cart, rolling him into the ring as Lee Best steps up the stairs, ducking under the ropes and getting into the ring.
Lee Best: Simon, I know you’re a little sensitive, and ya got family here– you might not wanna see this.
Lee reaches into his pocket, producing MPlow’s brand new ball point pen, it’s tip only slightly dingy from last week’s episode. Simon looks at Lee, at the pen, and then at ChristPlow. Shaking his head, he turns and walks away, ducking under the ropes and making a classy exit from an otherwise horrific situation. Simon Sparrow joins his family at ringside, bringing them together to shield their eyes.
Lee Best: Let’s not hit him in the fucking forehead this time?
ChristPlow chuckles, patting his father on the back as he takes the pen. Plow stands around for a moment, watching his father as he waits– and waits.
ChristPlow: No speech?
Lee Best: Fuck, kid! You’re a Best now, learn to fire a motherfucker already!
He laughs, but the look on the owner’s face is both stern and serious. Mike nods, clicking the pen to bring out the inky tip and raising it over his head.
ChristPlow: Justin Decent. You come into the HOW, you ride the LSD Championship as far as it’ll take you, and then what? You wanna shut yourself away from the entire fucking company and then bitch that no one wants to be your friend? You wanna disparage the newest member of our Hall of Fame? And then you wanna go behind the scenes and think that Lee Best is going to let you walk out of here gracefully? Tonight you lost the LSD Championship, Decent, but you’re about to lose a whole hell of a lot more than that– FUCK YOU, JUSTIN DECENT! YOU’RE FUCKING FIRED, MOTHERFUCKER!
ChristPlow swings the pen forward, toward the face of the terrified looking Justin Decent. He hits his mark this time, stabbing the pen directly into the now non-functioning eye socket of the former LSD Champion. Decent begins to writhe in pain, rolling as much as he can in his restraints, as a laughing Lee Best pats his son on the back, telling him he’s done a good job.
Joe Hoffman: How disgusting. Justin Decent was fired, but he didn’t need to be permanently injured.
Benny Newell: For once, I agree Joe. I think they should have just fucking murdered him.
Potentially just in the moment, however, Plow doesn’t stop– he comes down with the pen one more time, stabbing Decent in the other eye socket, making direct contact a second time. The pen sticks, a gooey mess now covering the inside of the ring as Plow quickly puts a boot onto the face of the victim, pushing on his head for leverage as he grabs the pen firmly, pulling it out to a shudder inducing slurp. Even Lee Best looks slightly nauseated, as the ICON Champion looks at the suffering former champion with a sinister happiness in his eyes.
Joe Hoffman: I apologize, ladies and gentlemen. Sometimes, even the HOW takes things a little too far. That’s all we have for tonight, and– well, I’m just sorry again. We hope you’ll tune in next week, for more Thursday Night Turmoil. I’m Joe Hoffman…
Benny Newell: And I’m Benny “Don’t Listen To Joe, He’s A Pussy And That Was AWESOME GO CHRISTPLOW!” Newell. Goodnight, folks!
The camera fades out on Turmoil with EMTs and security in the ring, placing a sheet over Decent’s body.
END OF LIVE PART OF SHOW
The feed goes black where it sits for a good five seconds before there is a jolt of static imagery the sparks across the darkness. Somewhere in the clash of sound there is a distant voice that is clearly male but still unable to be heard. The sound dies out for a moment before it sparks once again with another wave of static imagery..
“..N.t.week..w- r… – n.. ”
The darkness falls once again continuing to confuse the viewers as another voice joins the disjointed and difficult to understand words.
“..ke- lter safe..”
“Make them all pay..”
There is another flash as of light as a wide, bloodshot eye stares back at the viewer. The eye blinks quickly before the image flashes away into the darkness once again. The two warped voices slowly blend themselves back together into something that is far more familiar.
“Next week we return. Keep Sutler Safe. Make them all Pay.”
The End is the Beginning is the End by the Smashing Pumpkins sounds up as the silhouette of a man in a black suit can be seen walking toward an open door. Both the sound of someone laughing and crying can be heard as the silhouette slowly walks toward the door, a tangle of messy black hair seen atop the slender man’s face though all other features remain painted in shadow.
“Send a heartbeat to
The void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
For now we stand alone
The world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate
With no more to hate.”
As the man reaches the door the scene flashes to a flashback with Bobbinette Carey, bloodied and beaten in the middle of the War Games cage being supported by Shane Reynolds. Laying on the ground nearby is the broken form of Maximillian Kael bleeding from the head and twitching slowly. The scene stops and jumbles up showing Bobbinette Carey broken on the ground with Maximillian Kael standing over her holding the HOW World Title above his head with a sinister and gleeful look on his face..
“Is it bright where you are
And have the people changed
Does it make you happy you’re so strange
And in your darkest hour
My old secrets laid
We can watch the world devoured in its pain.”
The scene burns away as Crow can be seen grabbing Max by the back of the head, driving him down to the concrete during the Rumble at the Rock World Title Match. Max’s body goes prone as Crow slithers over top of him gaining the pinfall by Kostoff. A small pool of blood starts to form under Max’s head as the camera seems to spiral into it before it reveals Kostoff bleeding in the center of the ring while Max stands over him with a particularly wicked sneer on his face. Looking up toward the crowd the scene jumps up into the rafters where a white light absorbs it.
“Delivered from the blast
The last of a line of lasts
The pale princess of a palace cracked
And now the kingdom comes
Crashing down undone
And I am a master of a nothing place
Of recoil and grace”
As the light melts away the face of Graystone, twisted and broken, can be seen marching forward toward the HOW ring followed by Maximillian Kael looking on with a fatherly appraisal. Another flash of light and the body of Shane Reynolds can be seen getting buried under dirt and rocks by Graystone and Maximilian Kael. The World Title is handed to Graystone as Max’s eyes turn toward the man he had helped with greedy eyes.. The camera zooms in on Max’s greedy eyes before zooming back out rapidly as Max is seen falling to the ground as Graystone pins him in the middle of the HOW ring to retain his HOW World Title.
“Is it bright where you are
And have the people changed
Does it make you happy you’re so strange
And in your darkest hour
I hold secrets flame
We can watch the world devoured in its pain”
Darkness washes over the scene before a contract for the Ownership of HOW fills the screen. Panning back slowly Maximillian Kael can be seen smiling at Lee who seems to be yelling profanities. As the camera spins around behind the back of Lee’s head the scene transitions to a returned Shane Reynolds being branded in the center of the ring by Max with a gleeful expression on his face. There is a distant exploding noise as the scene flashes over to Max being pinned, once again, in the center of the War Games ring by Shane Reynolds with the assistance Aceldama. As he lays broken in the ring it slowly zooms in on Max’s face as bandages suddenly begin to wrap around him. “Time has stopped before us
The sky cannot ignore us
No one can separate us
For we are all that is left
The echo bounces off me
The shadow lost beside me
There’s no more need to pretend
Cause now I can begin again” Blood splatters across the scene as it washes it away in red before it pans back to see a blood stained Max Kael drifting down the river in DC while Shane Reynolds can be seen on the edge of the dock holding the ICON title. As he flows down the river the water rush over the scene as dirt seems to fall from the sky. The scene once again reverses itself as Shane Reynolds is once again being covered in dirt while Max Kael is seen standing over the grave shoveling viciously…
“Is it bright where you are
And have the people changed
Does it make you happy you’re so strange
And in your darkest hour
my old secrets laid
We can watch the world devoured in its hate
The dirt blacks out the scene once again to see Max Kael being led out of the arena by Elenore Kael several weeks back. He walks into the night when a flash of light blasts out over the screen.. As it flashes back to the beginning of the silhouetted figure walking toward the door. As the light shines on him the leering face of Maximillian Kael can be seen. It focuses on him for a few seconds as he smiles a toothy, sharking grin at the screen before fading away into black.
..Max Kael Returns..