We open to inside The Best Arena in Las Vegas, Nevada and the crowd is going nuts as we cuts down to the Hall of Fame announce crew Joe Hoffman and Benny Newell.

Joe Hoffman: Happy New Year fans and welcome back to HOW action here in Vegas as we start 2012 off big with the start of the…

Benny Newell: America-Best Invitational!

Joe Hoffman: Twenty-four men will start a journey tonight for the HOW World title… and when we are done, one of them may very well win it…

Benny Newell: Or one of them will retain it!  Jace has been unbeatable here in HOW and he will undoubtedly retain his World title.

Joe Hoffman: Well he’s not unbeatable Benny… he did lose too….

Benny Newell: Don’t you mention it!  Don’t you say his name!

OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH, You Gotta Keep ‘em Separated!

Joe Hoffman: His name?

Benny Newell: What the fuck!  He isn’t even scheduled tonight!

Scottywood makes his way out onto the stage, TV title on shoulder as he walks down the ramp and to the announce table..

Joe Hoffman: Well it looks like HOW’s newest Hall of Famer Scottywood is going to be joining us for this opening match which is a part of his ABI group.

Scottywood: Of course I am Joe, I need to scout the men in my group of death.

Benny Newell: You’re full of shit Scottywood and you know it.  Just admit you picked an easy fucking group!

Scottywood: Says the drunken announcer who probably can’t tell me who is in the group.

Benny Newell: Kostoff! And… and that guy.... and that other… you picked fuckin nobodies!  Of course I can’t name them!

Scottywood: try Hall of Famer Ryan Faze, the unknown Frank Dylan James and a man a battled tooth and nail at a PPV, James Ranger.

Benny Newell: You walked over him and then stabbed him in the eye.

Scottywood: Fine, I battled tooth and eye with him.

Joe Hoffman: Well as James Ranger and Frank Dylan James make their entrances to the ring, let me ask you Scottywood.  Other than yourself, who is biggest threat in this ABI tournament.  I mean is it the World champion Ja….

Scottywood: Woah… no, were not speaking his name tonight.  He might mistake it for me wanting to fuck him or something sick along those lines.  And no, he is no threat, I beat him before and I can do it again.  No to me the biggest threat is the mysterious Frank Dylan James… which is why I picked him for my group.  That was I can ensure to eliminate him early and then beat easier people in the March 2 Glory tournament like Mike Best, Silent Witness and like Shane Reynolds.

Benny Newell: There is not enough Jack to deal with this shit…

Joe Hoffman: Well we are now ready for our opening HOFC bout with Rick Steven officiating.  We’re back to old school HOFC rules and we will see three five minutes rounds.  Win my TKO or submission as Stevens calls for the bell.

Scottywood: Settle down here folks as this is going to be a nail biter!

Ranger and James come out of their corners as James throws a couple jabs that Ranger dodges and Ranger connects with a kick to the ribs.  He throws a left that misses but connects with a right.  Ranger then throws a left kick but James catches it and Ranger swings around with a right and connects with the enziguri.

Joe Hoffman: And down goes James!

Scottywood: Very nice shot by the one eyed James Ranger… tough to take James down.

Ranger goes for his signature figure four ankle lock, but James battles out of it and pops up right into a Ranger European uppercut which dazes him enough for Ranger to hit a leaping Gamenknee which drops James again as Ranger goes in with a fury of rights to the defenseless James as Stevens jumps in and calls the fight right there.

Joe Hoffman: It’s over!  First round knockout by James Ranger!  Can you believe it!

Scottywood: What the upset!  Ranger beats the second toughest man in the tournament!

Bryan McVay: The winner of this match in 1 minute and 2 seconds of the first round by TKO…. James Ranger!!!!

Spaz by Neptunes hits as Stevens raises Ranger’s arm in victory as Scottywood stands up and softly applauds Ranger.  The two lock eyes as Scotty smiles and pulls out his NGW pen from his pocket… the very one that Scotty used to stab Ranger in the eye months ago.  Stevens pushes Ranger out of the ring to avoid a conflict between the two men as Scottywood leaves the announce position.

Joe Hoffman: Well James Ranger scores the first points of the ABI… and if you can believe it, now leads the entire tournament…. If only until our next match.

Benny Newell: In just over a minute… I didn’t think I’d see anyone suck more then Ranger… or lose to him….

Joe Hoffman: Don’t discredit Ranger… he is full of anger and looking for retribution here in HOW… that is a dangerous combination… as we just saw.

Sliding into the ring with a microphone Scottywood starts to stalk the knocked out Frank Dylan James.

Scottywood: You were supposed to be the best!  One of the toughest men ever!  You were supposed to challenge me like no one else in HOW!  And you go and lose to James Ranger!  You’re making this group look like a cake walk other than the group of death it is supposed to be!

Reaching into his pockets he pulls out a set of brass knuckles and puts one on each fist.  He stares down at the back of Frank Dylan James and drives the brass knuckles into his back.  But they are not any ordinary brass knuckles as he pulls them up and we all see something cut into the back of Frank Dyaln James….

#PlanetScottywood

Scottywood: This might be the HOW ABI… but it is happening inside of Planet Scottywood and only The Hardcore Artist is going to win it!

Joe Hoffman: When we return, the ABI continues and we have Mose Maurako vs. Daddy mack…. Plus the very anticipated Evan Ward vs. Tara Michaels!

There is an explosion in the entrance way as the camera cuts back toward the ring area, and immediately there is a raucous outcry of booing as “The Best Around” by Joe Esposito begins to blast over the sound system of The Best Arena.

One of the namesakes of the arena, Mike Best, bursts through the curtain dressed to the nines. His sleek black suit and #970000 red tie show that he’s not here tonight to wrestle, but to speak. The crowd is quite vocal in their distaste for the Gypsy Giant Killer as he tugs at his tie, making his way briskly toward the ring with a cruel sneer plastered across his face. Best climbs the ring steps and ducks into the ring, snatching the microphone away from ring announcer Bryan McVay as he feigns slapping the easily intimidated employee.

After a slow, deliberate lap around the ring, Best waits for the booing to stop before beginning slowly, and quietly.

Mike Best: I have sacrificed a great many things to become the man I am today.

He looks out at the crowd, and then back at the canvas as he scratches his head and thinks his words over carefully.

Mike Best: As the door slammed shut behind me at Madison Square Garden, I could feel my footsteps weighing heavy in front of me, each step harder to take than the last. The date was December 14th, 2009, and the stage was ICONIC, the grandest show of them all. It wasn’t that I was nervous-- it wasn’t the first time I’d packed everything I’d owned into the back of my car and headed for greener pastures. And it certainly wasn’t apprehension for the act I was about to commit-- I was about to make my High Octane debut in the most impactful way imaginable, taking out the HOW World Champion on a live pay-per-view telecast.

He nods his head thoughtfully.

Mike Best: So what was it, then, that carried so much weight in my legs, turning them into Jello beneath me? What made my cheesy Santa Clause outfit and present back shake like an earthquake as I prepared to burst into the room and take out the man I would eventually force to retire? I’m sure you’re getting tired of rhetorical questions, so I’ll just tell you: It was the stark realization that from that moment forward, nothing I had ever done in my life would matter, ever again.

He lets out a small sigh, pausing for a moment before collecting his thoughts once again and continuing.

Mike Best: I walked into this company with a World Title that belonged to another company. I walked in with a legacy-- with a marked and celebrated career. I had up until that moment believed I had done and seen everything there was to do or see, and yet the second I walked in from the parking lot, security made me check it at the door. It takes a hell of a lot of merit to make it to the big leagues, and then once you get there, it DOESN’T MATTER ANYMORE.

He shouts these last three words, not in anger, but as an exclaimed statement.

Mike Best: I gave up a six figure contract and guaranteed main events for a guest appearance on an HOW pay-per-view and a bottom seed spot in the Lee Best Invitational, and let me tell you that it was an absolute no-brainer. It was like asking starving African children if they’d like a bite of your submarine sandwich. It would be lunacy to want to be anywhere else. I sacrificed everything I’d ever done for a chance to do it all over again on a grander stage, and though my legs were shaking as I made my way down that hallway, I have NEVER looked back and I have never regretted my decision.

He begins to pace the ring once more, looking out at a captivated crowd-- a captivated crowd who are really hoping he gets to the point sometime today.

Mike Best: I catch a lot of flack around here for being the bastard child. Everyone likes to throw around the fact that I get everything handed to me on a silver platter because Lee Best is my father, and all things considered I think I’ve handled it pretty well for a man of my temperament. The squeaky wheel gets the oil, and I’ve been a squeaky wheel since the day I showed up in High Octane Wrestling.  I get title shots because I ask for them, and when I get my opportunities I don’t waste them. I know how to draw money. That’s not nepotism, it’s business sense, and the only unfair advantage I have is that I may have inherited the genes from my father that made me as successful as I am today. Before I was Michael Best, before I ever knew I was the product of my father’s loins, I was just another guy climbing the ladder here in HOW. I was the guy who ended Max Kael’s unbelievable reign with the ICON Championship. I was the guy who took Christopher America to his limits and made an HOFC Title match the main event of one of the biggest pay-per-views in High Octane Wrestling. And before I was any of that, I proved I was worthy to step foot inside this hallowed ring by busting my ass on the road and paying my dues across the world.

He looks proud, but there is almost a sadness in his voice as he continues.

Mike Best: And yet somedays, it’s a Tale of Two Cities in this company. Some days, the wool is pulled just a bit too far over the eyes of the sheep for them to see the wolves at the gates. While I came up through the independent circuit, working my tail off and fighting every day to make it this far, Rhys Townsend walked into the door with no such pedigree. Rhys Townsend still owes a hefty bill for his dues. While I spilled seven years worth of blood over seven different continents, Rhys Townsend brings with him to the table a different merit. He studied under Trip Eisen.

The former HOW World Champion pretends to shudder, as if starstruck and amazed.

Mike Best: Man, I get the chills just saying it. Almost gives me goosebumps. Rhys Townsend studied under Trip Eisen, what a pedigree! Is that Trip Eisen, HOW Hall of Famer? Trip Eisen, former HOW World Champion? I don’t remember hearing either of those phrases used to describe King Trip. I’ve heard “Flake Job” used to describe him. I’ve heard “Aging Hack”. But I’ve never heard “legend”, that’s for sure. So why is it that Rhys Townsend gets a free pass into HOW, wrestling his first match on live television? Why is it that he doesn’t have to prove himself? And most importantly, one year later, why is it that he is STILL held to a different standard?

He holds his finger up, pointing toward the back as he over-enunciates his words. He’s making it clear that he’s not impressed.

Mike Best: If I sound bitter, ladies and gentlemen, it’s because I am. I’m sure I sound like a grumpy old man right now, telling the kids to get off my lawn-- but please understand that I gave the kid a real fighting chance. I was rooting for him. I took young Rhys under my wing from the second he was hired. I found a place for him in the Best Alliance, and I handed him HOW Hall of Fame inductee Embosser to watch over him in his beginning weeks. I practically spoon fed the poor thing, green and alone in the most competitive company in the world. And you know what? I’ll be damned if Rhys didn’t live up to my expectations. I’ll be damned if he didn’t follow in my footsteps, skipping the ladder to success and just taking the fucking express elevator. And in the end, when Rhys Townsend finally earned the attention of my father and a legitimate shot at my HOW World Championship, he was the first man to ever make me submit. That’s no easy task. I gave him an even match and he pushed me to my limit. You could have flipped a coin to pick a winner, and you’d have probably been wrong.

He shakes his head, disappointment in his voice.

Mike Best: I could have cheated. I could have gotten myself disqualified. I could have protected myself-- Lord knows I’ve never been one to play by the rules. But I respected Rhys Townsend and the progress he’d made, and I gave him a fair shake. And so the following week, when I cashed in for what would surely be an epic rematch, of course Rhys Townsend afforded me that same courtesy, right? Of course Rhys Townsend showed me the same respect I showed him, and honored his mentor with a fair fight, right? Or maybe Rhys Townsend brought Max Kael and company to the ring with him, took the easy way out, and spit on my gesture by taking a spot in the Best Alliance and stealing away my opportunity. Maybe Rhys Townsend wasn’t such a classy guy after all.

He shrugs his shoulders, and once again the crowd seems to be listening intently.

Mike Best: A lot of people were surprised that Rhys Townsend shanked me in the kidney at Rumble At The Rock and took me out of commission for the rest of 2011, but let me tell you that I was not once of those people. I’ve looked into the eyes of angels and I’ve looked into the eyes of devils, but when I look into the eyes of Rhys Townsend I see nothing. I don’t see good, or evil. I don’t see right or wrong. I see NOTHING.

He makes a ‘tsk’ noise with his tongue in the back of his throat, shaking his head.

Mike Best: Rhys Townsend was my salvation. He was the angel on my shoulder, telling me that being Mike Best wasn’t the eventuality all young talents would realize. I took him under my wing, and I tried to make him fight me with dignity because I wanted him to be something greater than the sum of my parts. People say I’m evil, ladies and gents, but the fact is that where my soul belongs there is a void. A hole. A nothingness. I claimed the HOW World Championship and Wrestler of the Year in 2010, but I did at the cost of my soul. And here we are, at the beginning of 2012, and it seems Rhys Townsend has made himself the same deal with the devil that leaves me standing here today.

He spits, pausing his story as the crowd begins to boo. It’s hard to say why they’re booing, it could be any number of things-- but Mike Best is in the ring, and it’s to be expected.

Mike Best: I’m sure it looks like I’m calling the kettle black, coming down on Townsend for the same demons that have brought me down. I’m sure you’ll call me a hypocrite. But I’m not bitter that Townsend beat me. I’m not even bitter that he took a blade to my flesh, and cut me up like some kind of animal. I’m not bitter than Townsend ended my run for Wrestler of the Year and my hopes for the main event at ICONIC. But make no mistake about it, Townsend-- I AM bitter. I’m bitter that I worked my ass off for years on the road for the right to take shortcuts now, and that you get to become me without putting in the work.  I’m bitter that I had one ounce of hope left in this world, and that it was you. I’m bitter that snuffed out my last bit of faith in this business and proved to me that my outlook on life isn’t an aberration, it’s just a fucking EVENTUALITY. I gave you a million opportunities to keep from becoming ME, Townsend, and you brushed them aside like superstitions. When you and your boys jumped me last year, I forgave you. I knew you could learn from your mistakes. But after RATR? Well, fool me once...

He chuckles, closing his eyes for a moment.

Mike Best: You ran a knife through my gut and cost me the HOW World Championship-- I teed off on your unprotected skull and cost you the ICON Title at ICONIC. From a rational perspective, Townsend, we should be even. But you know me, Rhys-- you know that I’m anything but rational. I’m a lot of other things, though... I’m cold. I’m calculating. I’m unrelenting. And it’s those characteristics that are going to make a very big, very painful impact on your life and career from this point forward.

He stares at the entrance way, practically daring Rhys Townsend to make an entrance, not knowing whether or not he’s even in the building.

Mike Best: It’s fate that we’re seeded in the same group, Townsend, because I began my HOW career in the Invitational and in 2012, it’s where I’ll end yours. For two years, my obsession was bringing home or holding onto the gold, on winning the championship at March To Glory. On winning the Invitational. But this year, my obsession will be with returning to you the unending pain you’ve wrought over me for the last year and change. The pain of a knife cutting flesh. The pain of broken bones and ambush attacks. The pain of a hypocrisy, from a pure wrestler stooping so low as to stab a man in the middle of a dirty, stinking cell block. But most of all, Townsend, the pain of watching your last hope for salvation in this world be snuffed out like a candle losing oxygen. Winning the Invitational is just bonus points-- gravy on my mashed potatoes. This year, Townsend? This year you’re the main course. This year, the number one seed will not grow or blossom, it will be cut down and wither in it’s prime. I don’t know what will happen in December, ladies and gentlemen, but this year?

He laughs, but this time it’s not sad, or apprehensive. It’s determined.

Mike Best: This year, Rhys Townsend, will be the end of YOUR world.

Best drops the microphone in disgust, dropping to his back and rolling out of the ring as the crowd watches on quietly. They don’t know what to make of his speech, and they don’t get a chance to pass judgment as he makes his way back up the ramp and to the backstage.
 

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back as we quickly roll along in this action packed Monday Night Mayhem with Mose Maurako and Daddy Mack!

`Benny Newell: Who the fuck let a Maurako back in HOW?  He’s gonna suck just like his daddy did.

Joe Hoffman: Well he has a chance to prove you wrong, it is the great part about the ABI, everyone is on equal ground and has a chance to win big.

The bell sounds and Maurako and Mack lock up and it is the young Maurako who takes advantage with a knee to the gut of Mack and fires away with a couple kicks to the stomach before he springboards off the ropes and nails a bulldog on Mack.  Mack pops up and Maurako connects with a hurricaranna as Maurako goes for the first cover.

Uno….

Dos……

Mack kicks out as they both pop up and Maurako goes for a kick to Mack’s head but Mack ducks and counters with a belly to belly suplex.  Maurako gets back to his feet and Mack whips Maurako into the corner and charges in and drives the shoulder into Maurako’s gut.  He drives it in there again and again as Maurako stumbles out of the corner.

Joe Hoffman: Criminal Intentions by Mack… though in HOW you might need to do more then that to garner police attention.

`Benny Newell: Like be a Maurako…. That should be a fuckin crime!

Mack nails Maurako with a clothesline as he grabs Maurako’s ankle and locks in a ankle lock submission.  Maurako yells in pain as he reaches for the ropes.  He claws at the canvas and inches closer but Mack pulls Maurako back to the center of the ring.  Maurako fights the urge to tap as he tries to get back to the ropes but he can’t.  So he manages to roll through the move and send Mack shoulder first into the corner post.

Joe Hoffman: Great reversal as Mack eats the post.

Maurako pulls himself up to his feet, favoring his right ankle as Mack is slow to return to his feet, but as he does Maurako grabs Mack’s neck and connects with a backstabber that connects.

Joe Hoffman: Bloodline by Maurako!  This one looks over!

`Benny Newell: Fuck me….

Uno…..

Dos…….

Tres…..

`Benny Newell: Mack kicks out!

Joe Hoffman: Yes he does!  Hortega is signaling Dos!

Maurako can’t believe it as he pounds the mat and pulls Mack to his feet, but gets caught with an upper cut and a knee to the gut he lifts Maurako up onto his shoulder and signals for his reverse death valley driver.

Joe Hoffman: Mack is looking for the Mackia Assault!

Mack goes to connect but Maurako slips off his shoulders and as Mack turns around he catches a kick right to the side of the head as Maurako throws Mack’s arm over his shoulder and backflips and nails a rock bottom on Mack.

Joe Hoffman: Code of Honor by Maurako!  This has to be the end!

`Benny Newell: Fucker thought that before too.

Uno……

Dos………

Tres…………

DING DING DING

Joe Hoffman: And this time it is over!

Bryan McVay: The winner of this match in 5:43….. Mose Maurako!!!

Welcome To The Family by Avenged Sevenfold plays as Hortega raises Maurako’s hand in victory.

Joe Hoffman: Maurako gains three points and takes the lead of the Thomas Jefferson Group and Mack will lose two points and fall to the bottom of it.  Huge upset here as the one seed loses to the five seed.

`Benny Newell: Shows anything can happen in the ABI… as we are two matches in and two five seeds have victories… fuckin’ nuts… DRINK!

Joe Hoffman: The ABI continues after a commercial break with William Bateman facing Carmen Jennings in the George Washington Group.

Back from commercial break, the heavy opening riffs of “Home Again” by This Fires Embrace are heard as the following logo is displayed on the HOV.
 

After a few moments, the logo disappears and we’re taken backstage where a wooden desk is set up before a picturesque backdrop of the Cleveland, Ohio skyline.  Cleveland is a far cry from “Sin City,” but its home to HOW Hall of Famer “Phenomenal” Ryan Faze, who emerges suddenly onto the scene wearing a gray Armani suit and his trademark silver mirrored shades.  Faze is all business tonight as he takes a seat at the desk in a plush black leather chair and waits for the music to drown out.  When that occurs, he removes the sunglasses from his face and begins addressing the HOW viewing audience.

Faze:  Welcome back to Mayhem, ladies and gentlemen, where yours truly – “Phenomenal” Ryan Faze – has just woken up from a nap.

There’s a hint of sarcasm in Ryan’s voice as he proceeds to blatantly clear his throat and rub his eyes as if he was, in fact, just sleeping.

Faze:  Forgive me, but after watching James Ranger and Frank Dylan James play slap hands with each other to open the show, I couldn’t help but doze off.  Fortunately, I woke up just in time to host this PHENOMENAL little segment that I like to call… Faze Forward.

The crowd explodes for the return of Faze Forward as the previously seen logo pops up again in the left hand corner of the HOV.  Faze grins widely as this is the first-ever LIVE edition of what used to be a written column.

Faze:  Now I’m sure all of you are watching this wondering what happened to the “Phenomenal One” at ICONIC?  Even I’ll admit… I went out there in front of 100,000 die-hard HOW fans in Dallas, Texas and stunk up the joint against Christopher America.  It was hardly the Main Event performance that I so desperately wanted to give everyone, but I promise to compensate for that in 2012 with a convincing showing in the America’s Best Invitational tournament.  And what does that mean? 

Faze pauses briefly to allow the Frank Dylan Jameses of the world a moment to catch up.

Faze:  That means showing those two worthless jobbers that quote-unquote “wrestled” an HOFC match earlier what a real fight is supposed to look like.  That means beating Chris Kostoff and Scottywood at their own game.  That means beating the piss out of four men HOFC-style for an opportunity to become HOW World champion at March 2 Glory. 

Faze’s tone is serious and confident as he takes one final look into the camera.

Faze:  No doubt the “Phenomenal One” has a lot to prove in 2012 and the ABI is my proving ground.  For the next eight weeks, HOFC is my life.  It’s time to put up or shut up.  Scottywood, Kostoff, FDJ, and Ranger sure like to run their mouths, but will they back it up in the ring?  I suppose we’ll all find out soon enough…

Mayhem quickly cuts back to Joe and Benny at ringside.

Returning backstage, the camera moves swiftly along the bustling corridor towards the open door of a locker-room. Peering in through the gap left, a figure can be seen standing in front of a set of monitors. The light from their screens is the only source of illumination in the room. The man's face flickers eerie in and out of view as he stares avidly.  Now painted up in black and white, there's no mistaking that it's the LSD champion.

Shane Reynolds: Are you sure he's gone?

He enquires, turning his attention away from the screens now and glancing to somebody out of sight and across the room. With the shift in standing, the camera can see that the various monitors, rather than showing live footage from ringside, display security footage from all over the arena, inside and out.

Shane Reynolds: There can be no mistake! Especially with my match about to start! It took a lot of time and effort for Mr. Best to make me....fun little indiscretions disappear, and I don't want David Black coming within a thousand feet of ruining what I promised to deliver in return---no matter how badly he wants revenge and thinks it's up to him to bring me to justice.

Voice: He's gone! The guard's took care of it!

A female voice answers.

Shane Reynolds: Good!

He says, turning back to the monitors, checking with his own eyes as though to be sure.

Shane Reynolds: And what about the other one? Any sign?

Voice: Who?

Shane Reynolds: You know who I mean!

Shane turns back and scowls, as he still gets no response.

Shane Reynolds: Silent Witness?

Voice: Nope, as far as I can tell so far, he hasn't made an appearance.

Shane tuts to himself and shakes his head.

Shane Reynolds: That's a shame.

Voice: Why?

Shane Reynolds: Never you mind!

Shane says, as he takes a few steps across the room and leans down over a table that stands against the wall.

Shane Reynolds: Now get back to the entrance, I want you to keep an eye on things and make sure personally and directly. Tonight is crucial...

Shane commands, as he reaches down and pulls up knife---the same hunting knife he used to carve up Scottywood's face a few months ago. He holds it before his eyes, as it shines in the flickering light, staring at it with admired longing.

Shane Reynolds: ...Even if my opponent is feeble, the match will be boring, and I can't have any real fun.

Voice: Yes, sir!

He places the knife back down with a remorseful sigh. Behind him and from beyond the line of vision, a chair is heard scrapping along the floor. The camera pulls back as the door opens....revealing a tall, raven-haired woman. It hangs down to around her shoulders and accentuates her pale-skinned features as much as her black, Gothic style corset dress accentuates her features.

She turns and heads off down the corridor without acknowledging the camera. It turns back and gets one last shot of Shane, instead of any last minute preparations, returns to the monitors, keeping an ever cautious and vigilant eye on the security footage as the show cuts to commercial...

Back from commercial break, we focus in on Bryan McVay who is ready to introduce the next match.

Bryan McVay:  This America’s Best Invitational match is scheduled for ONE FALL!  Introducing first… from Chicago, Illinois… weighing in at 175 pounds… X!!!

Neon green lights fill The Best Arena as Xander Hayes emerges from behind the curtain holding a headless teddy bear.  The HOW fans aren’t really sure what to think of X as he slides into the ring and brings Teddy close to his ear for what appears to be a pep talk before his big High Octane debut.

Joe Hoffman:  Welcome back to Mayhem ladies and gentlemen, where you see Xander Hayes loosening up in the ring with that… headless teddy bear, Benny?

Benny Newell:  The fuck?  Is that his manager or something?

Joe Hoffman:  I’m not quite sure, Buff. What I do know is that X is going to have his hands full tonight, because he’s about to go one-on-one with a High Octane Hall of Famer…

As if on cue, “Use Your Fist and Not Your Mouth” by Marilyn Manson hits the speakers.

Bryan McVay:  And his opponent… from Boston, Massachusetts… weighing in at 220 pounds… he is the HOW LSD champion… SHANE REYNOLDS!!!

The crowd boos heavily as Shane Reynolds appears on the stage, the HOW LSD championship belt strapped firmly around his waist after a successful title defense at ICONIC in a House of Mirrors match against David Black.  Shane enters the ring and smirks at X as referee Matt Boettcher proceeds to check both men for weapons.  Once he finds that both men are clean, he calls for the bell.

DING * DING * DING

X and Reynolds start out by circling each other before they lock up in a collar-and-elbow tie up.  After a brief standstill, Shane gets the upper hand with a knee to the midsection, which doubles X over in pain and allows Reynolds to execute a quick Snap Suplex.  X favors his back as Shane stands to his feet and begins relentlessly stomping away at the newcomer.  Boettcher eventually intervenes once it becomes clear that Shane is not going to let up.

Benny Newell:  Oh come on, ref!  Shane didn’t do anything wrong!

Joe Hoffman:  It’s amazing to me, Benny, how you can go from making fun of Shane Reynolds one week to coming to his defense the next week, all because he aligned himself with Lee and the Best Alliance.

Benny Newell:  I’ll cheer for whoever I fuckin’ want to, Joe.  Everyone knows that Shane joining the B.A. was the smartest career decision he’s ever made.  He never should have left in the group in the first place!

After a brief argument with the referee, Shane turns his attention back to X, who surprises the LSD champion with a barrage of right hand punches.  Shane swings at his opponent wildly in defense, but X ducks the blow and nearly decapitates Reynolds with a Clothesline.  X applies a quick cover.

Joe Hoffman:  One!  NO!  Shane easily gets the shoulder up.

X attempts to keep the LSD champion grounded by applying a Figure Four, but Shane counters the submission by simply grabbing the bottom rope.  X isn’t pleased when Boettcher administers a five count and orders him to release his opponent.  When he does, Shane quickly rolls out of the ring which prompts X to do the same and give chase to the former War Games winner.  After a few moments, Reynolds slides back into the ring and when X follows in behind, he’s met with a stiff Elbow Drop to the spine.

Benny Newell: That right there is why Shane Reynolds will go far in the ABI.  He just outsmarted Xavier… err… Zander… err…
 
Joe Hoffman:  His name is Xander… with emphasis on the X, I believe.

Benny Newell:  Whatever.  He’s a douchebag regardless.

Shane maintains the upper hand until both men are back on their feet and X fires back with a Swinging Neckbreaker.  X calls for his Rolling X finisher, but the announcers and crowd aren’t sure what the specifics of the maneuver are.  As X is doing this, Reynolds slips under him and executes a Small Package.

Joe Hoffman:  One!  Two!!  Thr- NO!  X barely kicks out!

Benny Newell:  Shane was robbed!

Both men scramble to their feet, where X catches a kick attempt from Reynolds.  Shane counters with an Enziguri, however, and X finds himself reeling as he staggers back to his feet.  Shane takes full advantage of this and moves in for his Spinning Unprettier finisher.

Joe Hoffman:  ORIGINAL SIN!

Reynolds covers.

Joe Hoffman:  One!  Two!!  Three!!!

DING * DING * DING

Bryan McVay:  Here is your winner by way of pinfall in 4:24… SHANE REYNOLDS!!!

Reynolds is met with jeers and boos from the Las Vegas crowd as he stands to his feet and has his arm raised by referee Matt Boettcher.

Joe Hoffman:  A convincing win by Shane Reynolds who picks up 3 points in the Abraham Lincoln Group whereas Xander Hayes, despite a solid effort against the LSD champion, falls to last place in the group with -1 point.  Now let’s head backstage where we have Evan Ward standing by.
 

Who will head to March to Glory to try and claim the World Title?

The camera sparks back up in the same lockerroom that the three members of Ground Zero were stood in before the commercial break, only this time, it’s the HOW ICON Champion, Rhys Townsend, stood alone.

Rhys Townsend: So...you saw that whole nice, “wrestling first” approach before the commercial break from Ward, right? You lot listened in well, listened close and appreciated it, figured “Yeah, that dude’s got the right idea”, yeah?

The whole morals and doing things the right way, a good way, some way that, when you wake up in the morning, you can look at yourself in the mirror and not feel a twinge of guilt at doing any of the things you’ve done to get yourself the Italian marble beneath your feet, that hand crafted, specifically designed sink in front of you all while you’re stood in your overpriced Manhattan loft apartment, right?

That’s what Ground Zero is all about, right? That stable, that movement I formed in the middle of last year, that stable that’s as much associated with me as anything else I’ve done in my career.

Townsend sighs, as his hands idly drop down to the ICON Championship that’s sat around his waist.

Rhys Townsend: Only, the problem is....that’s not me anymore. I might want it to be, I might wish it was me...but it’s not.

No, see, I’m the guy who stabbed Mike Best in his kidney. The guy that would have done anything to have retained that World Championship at Rumble at the Rock, the same guy who would have done anything to have taken the belt back at ICONIC...the guy that will still do anything for that belt. That will do anything to make his mark on the history of this illustrious sport.

Townsend stops and smirks at the camera.

Rhys Townsend: Mike Best...right? The same guy who was stood out in that ring promising to end my career because, unlike him, unlike ninety five percent of the people in this federation, I wasn’t some idiot who spent year after year after year toiling away in some shitty fisher price federation winning some plastic championships in front of a bunch of drunks who’d rather be anywhere but at the wrestling show that night. Because unlike most of the wrestlers in this fed, his father, my boss, Lee Best, saw something in me that marked me out as special.

It wasn’t Eisen that got me my contract here in HOW. It wasn’t Eisen that took me to the main event of ICONIC, that gave me two World Championships, that made me into the man that became Wrestler of the Year....that was me. Not you, giving me an easy start in the business, not Eisen, deciding he wanted some glory by association, but this man, stood in front of you right now, staring down this camera lens and delivering a monologue, week after week.

Me. Rhys Townsend.

The smirk returns, as the ICON Champion is obviously brimming with confidence.

Rhys Townsend: See, people like me, people who have the talent I have, the charisma I possess...we’re special. And, let's face it - there's not very many of us. I didn’t need to spend years suffering in nothing federations, because, well....we both know it - I’m too good for that. Your father saw it - the man everyone around here calls the God of HOW, he saw it. The fans, out in those arenas, every single week...guess what? They see it. They know it. Hell, you fucking see it too. And, let's be honest here - you shouldn’t be pissed that I’ve never wrestled in another fed, you should appreciate it...because I am what every federation should strive to have - a bona-fide home grown superstar.

And, well, as for your whole little speech about trying to turn me into everything you’re not, into some shining white light savior for professional wrestling who does everything the right way, doesn’t stab people, doesn’t beat the crap out of anyone...well, newsflash, dickhead. The year is 2012, not 1982. We don’t live in some world where everything is black and white, where what’s right and wrong is clear. We live in a world that is made up of shades of gray, where one person’s good is another person’s bad...and let’s face it. That’s what YOU wanted from me. What you hoped I could be, so when I got there, when I was prancing around like some real world version of Captain America, or Superman or whatever, you could sit there, proclaiming that you helped me all the way, you pushed me into being something that, well, it’s fucking impossible to be.

The smirk disappears, replaced by an intense stare, the young Welshman’s words growing in intensity as he carries on.

Rhys Townsend: And yeah, you’re right to compare me to you. You are. There’s no way around that comparison...but here’s the thing, Mike - When your vaunted fate brings us together on March 23rd, I sincerely hope you know what will be across the ring from you. I mean, the way you talk about me, you should already know, right? You should already know that I’m stepping into that ring with the sole intention of finishing off the job I started in April last year...but, then, I expect that’s something you know.

See...I am you. Just better. More talented, more charismatic. Fuck, if you’re Lee Best’s son? Then I’m the son he wishes he had.

The smirk returns to the ICON Champion’s face, as he brushes past the camera as we fade to a ringside.

The lights in the arena dim to black. The crowd's roar ceases to a low murmur as everyone's attention is focused on the High Octane Vision.

A light smoke comes across the screen. The words "The return is near." fade through. A shadow can be seen walking behind the smoke, a silhouette of a man. "He isn't a Best..." fades up, followed by "but he is THE best..."

The silhouette steps forward closer, a blue tint of spandex can be made out. On the chest, some red wording can be seen as he comes closer. "The man without fear..." The screen goes complete dark. "The Living..." As the screen lights back up, the silhouette is right there. On the chest of the singlet the word "LEGEND" appears.

Unable to see his face, the crowd already knows who it is. Johnny Legend is returning to High Octane Wrestling.