And so it begins…
THE CLOCK IS TICKING
Static covers the screen as a Play ► symbol appears in the bottom right-hand corner.
We’re stood in the Slaughterhouse, backstage, The Butcher and Flavo surrounded by the various members of the roster. Everyone has questions. Everyone is demanding answers.
They’ve tried the exits; they’ve tried calling out – but whatever they do, they can’t contact anyone and they can’t leave.
Amongst the chitter chatter and conversation, Flavo interrupts.
“There’s a bomb located somewhere in The Slaughterhouse,” he says to gasps from the crowd. “I’ve brought you to Inanis, the empty, so that we can try and stop it from detonating.”
The Butcher looks at him with a furrowed brow, absolutely furious that he’d dare tell his people this kind of news in such a terrible way.
“Look, this isn’t ideal,” he understands, taking over. The Butcher steps in front of Flavo and continues. “This place is a prison; it’s where reality stops. But we will find the bomb whilst you do what you do best.”
Freight Train Ferguson – never one to keep his opinions to himself, has a little something to say about that.
“What in the fuck do you mean, you fat pig belly cracker?” He bellows. “I will skull fuck you to death before I die in this shithole.”
Everyone suddenly turns their attention to him.
SeeSaw didn’t like it.
“Excuse me, Mister, I think you ought to watch your language,” SeeSaw reminds him. “There’s children watching.”
“The fuck you say, Gary Glitter?” Ferguson barks. “Look Ronald, didn’t you hear this dumb cunt? We’re in the fucking empty, wherever the fuck that is. Reality has stopped.”
“Enough!” The Butcher interrupts. “We have twelve hours to find a bomb that if denotated, will undoubtably kill us all. You people have jobs to do; fight or die. Choose one.”
Freight Train Ferguson suddenly swings for SeeSaw, clobbering him in the mouth with a right hook. That immediately erupts a brawl that see’s right and left hands flying amongst talent.
Flavo looks at Butcher, clearly intrigued.
“They need to keep themselves busy,” The Butcher reminds him. “Now, I know who we should speak to first. Let’s go, the clock is ticking.”
“No, you’ll have to this alone,” Flavo says unsatisfied. “Maintaining Inanis swallows a lot of my power. If I’m active too long within it, it’ll fall apart. Once you find the bomb, summon me using this.”
He hads The Butcher a small device, a button.
“And I’ll come.”
The Butcher nods.
DICE VS. KAZAKU
How will Dice fare against the Okami Warrior? With a roll of the dice, his fate against Kazaku can swing either way!
Kazaku charges at Dice, hoping to catch him by surprise, but Dice plants her with a bodyslam instead! With the Okami Warrior down, Dice pulls out a set of dice, giving them a roll…DICE OF THE STORM GIANT! Thunder courses through Dice’s body as he takes a dive at Kazaku!
Kazaku narrowly avoids disaster, the thunder quickly dissipating as the Yakuza Juvenile catches him with a dropkick that brings Dice back down hard, before taking to the nearest turnbuckle and launching herself off the top rope! SHI NO WA! THE WIND’S KNOCKED OUT OF DICE WITH THAT SHOOTING STAR PRESS!
Kazaku’s hurting almost as bad though, and she can’t capitalize with a pin as she rolls away. Dice slowly gets to his feet, pulling out another pair of dice in order to determine his fate…DIFFUSION THUNDERBIRD! KAZAKU JUST GOT TOSSED INTO THE CORNER BY THE ELEMENTAL BEING SUMMONED BY DICE!
The momentum is purely behind Dice as he hoists the Okami Warrior up high…DICE TOWER! KAZAKU SLAMMED DOWN HARD WITH THAT SUPLEX SIDE SLAM! Not content, Dice picks her back up once more…NAT 20! AND WHAT A TWIST OF FATE THAT WAS, AS DICE GETS THE COVER! ONE! TWO! THREE!
Fate has determined Dice the victor tonight, as the ref raises his arm in victory!
LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE
In the backstage area, Jessie Williams is sat on a bench flipping through an old photobook of he and his dad.
There’re memories here that he cherishes.
You can see that in his eyes.
When the door opens and Matthew Cories walks in, his expression immediately changes from that of pain to that of joy.
“Uncle Matty, you came,” Jessie says, giving him a big hug. “I didn’t know if you’d make it.”
“I didn’t realize I’d be walking into this, kid,” he replies, hugging back. “What the heck is going on? Did I hear right? There’s a bomb?”
“That’s just one of the many reasons I left, kiddo. I heard you started wrestling with Reloaded – what brought that on?”
Williams walks away sheepishly, turning his back on Cories.
“I’m looking for my dad,” he admits, his head lowered in shame. “No-one has seen him in well over a year. He went on a hunting trip and-”
“I get it,” Matty interrupts. “But this isn’t the place for you. Your daddy, he trained you; he had to. I know that. But he would’ve never wanted you here.”
Williams turns around, shaking his head.
“I have to find him, Unc. He could be in danger or worse. I asked you back here because I thought you might help me. I got us a match and everything.”
That disappoints Cories who sighs.
“Look, I’ll fight with you tonight because we’re family and that’s what families do but I’m not sticking around Jessie,” Cories says bluntly. “And neither should you. Wherever your pa is, he’s doing what does best, that much I know in my heart. You need to leave well enough alone, kiddo. No good will come of either of us being here.”
“I wish that was enough for me, Uncle Matt.”
Jessie and Matty embrace one more time.
They’ll fight alongside each other tonight, Uncle and Nephew, but Cories isn’t sticking around to help him figure this out.
THE AUTOMATON VS. CAEL GABLE
DREAM THEATRE TAKE OVER
ETHAN ROSE VS. FEAR
Some say the only thing you should fear is Fear itself…but will Ethan Rose have to heed that warning himself?
Fear charges at Ethan Rose, looking to take the Phoenix down early on…but Rose manages to dodge the attack, taking Fear down with a drop toe hold in the process! Rose uses the momentum to stay on the attack, showing he’s not afraid of anything…EXCEPT AN ELBOW TO THE FACE!
Rose is rocked by that elbow as Fear gets back to his feet, playing up to the power game over the Phoenix as he picks him up…FACE YOUR FEAR! ROSE DRIVEN DOWN HARD TO THE CANVAS WITH THAT CRASH THUNDER DRIVER, AND FEAR IS IN FULL CONTROL OF THE SITUATION!
Rose looks completely out of it as Fear continues the assault, firmly confident that this match is his for the taking as he picks Rose back up…BUT ROSE CATCHES HIM OFF GUARD WITH A QUESTION MARK KICK! Fear staggers back, clearly off balance as ROSE LANDS ANOTHER QUESTION MARK KICK!
Rose has a chance to secure the win here, and by the focus in his eyes it seems he’s ready for it as he unloads a flurry of fast offense on Fear…BUT FEAR DROPS HIM WITH THE FEAR FACTOR! ROSE CRASHES DOWN AS FEAR GETS THE COVER! ONE! TWO! THREE!
Fear has overtaken Ethan Rose tonight, as the ref raises his arm in victory!
The Red Death lurks backstage, his eyes focused on the locker room door of Luke Storm. He knows that if there was ever an opportunity to destroy the man he believes killed his family, it would be tonight.
What he doesn’t expect is for the familiar face of Sharkman to appear before him, stood between him and his wanted destination.
“Bill?” He asks, tilting his head to try and get a reaction. Death stares straight through him. “Bill!?”
The raise in voice snaps The Red Death out of it.
“My name is Axel, you may not know me but I’ve come to see you,” he says honestly. “Some people call me The Sharkman.”
“Of The Watchmen?” Death asks inquisitively.
“That’s right. I’ve been watching Old School Wrestling from afar and I thought you could use my help.”
That perturbs Kirby, who sneers.
“You can’t help me,” he growls. “We’re nothing alike.”
“That’s true,” Sharkman responds as Death barges past him. “I’m a hero.”
The Red Death stops abruptly in his tracks.
He turns to face The Shark, who folds his arms.
“You used to be a hero, but that changed. Something happened, or a switch flicked in your mind and you went crazy. I want to help you, Bill. I want to save you from yourself, but if I can’t…”
There’s a pause as Death steps towards him.
“I will stop you,” Sharman continues. “I will take that mask from your head and end this façade.”
Now nose to nose, The Red Death is snarling.
“The only way this mask comes off my head is over my dead body,” he bellows. “I’ll see you in the ring if you want to try it, old timer.”
Kirby turns around and walks away, leaving The Sharkman with a clear idea of what he must do next.
CAPTAIN ZAPPA VS. NIGHTSTICK
DREAM THEATRE TAKE OVER
THE PLAGUE RAT VS. HEX
Two superstars debut here tonight in OSW, will the songstress weave her magic or is this pandemic too much for one soul to handle?
The camera fades in as we see Hex slowly enter the boiler room, slowly peering around for her opponent when from out of the corner, through the mist, the Plague Rat leaps forward, swinging a thick steel chair that Hex just manages to duck under as it embeds itself into the wall. TPR tries to pull it out as Hex capitalises, drilling TPR with a stiff kick to the back of the head that staggers him away before she rushes forward.
THUNDERSTRUCK! The knee to the back of the head knocks TPR for a loop as Hex rears back, trying to end this quickly but clearly Plague Rat gets paid by the hour as he ducks under the Discus Elbow, drilling Hex with a snap headbutt before leaping up and nearly taking her damn head off with DELIRIUM! Hex staggers up to her feet as she’s grabbed by the hair and thrown head first into the wall, just ducking under a massive right hand that breaks apart some of the brick as TPR screams in pain.
WITCHING HOUR! The Discus Elbow hits flush as TPR slams face first into the brickwall. Hex shakes her head, heading to walk out of the room but she’s stopped by a hand on her shoulder, before BLOOD IS SPAT IN HER EYES! The Plague Rat grins, blood dripping down a smile with what looks like half a dozen shattered teeth as he picks a blinded Hex up into the air BEFORE GIVING HER A FEVER SIT DOWN BRAINBUSTER!
Hex is dazed on the floor as TPR doesn’t even look towards the door, instead pulling her up by her hair as he delivers another sickening headbutt before finally grabbing the chair out of the wall. He lifts it high, blocking a kick with a bone crunching chair shot before driving the steel down onto Hex over and over again. Finally it and Hex are a crumpled mess but The Plague Rat isn’t done as he lifts up the limp Hex high in the air in a crucifix position before throwing her into the steel boiler! Steam explodes throughout the room as The Plague Rat finally exits the Boiler Room, a sadistic bloodied smile upon his face.
The Plague Rat wins his debut match in sickening fashion as this may well be the last time we see Hex in the Slaughterhouse and for the safety of everyone else, hopefully the Pandemic begins and ends tonight as well.
BLOWING AWAY PARTY
Junkrat and Marvolo II seem to be having a whole host of fun.
They’re backstage, laughing and joking, having a good time in the isolation and lock down of The Slaughterhouse.
It seems they’re having a ‘blowing away party’.
Unfortunately for them, they’re the first port of call for a certain Butcher.
“Just the guys I was looking for,” Colin says, approaching with caution. “Though I didn’t expect to find such festivities.”
The Junkrat, as crazy as ever, tosses confetti made of paper into the air, over the Chairman.
“Welcome to our blowing away party, boss,” Junkrat says, excitedly. “If we’re going BOOM, we’re going in style!”
“Actually, I was hoping you could help me prevent that.”
“Prevent it?” Marvolo II quizzes. “Why would we do that?”
“We love explosions, Butch. Didn’t you know? They tickle our pickle. They make our cake moist. I’m at half mast just thinking about it.”
The Butcher awkwardly looks down.
“I can see that,” he says with a shake of the head. “But I want to know where the bomb is and there’s no better suspects than you two.”
The Butcher nods and suddenly, in walks a crew of men to attack. They beat down The Grenades, ripping down their paper made party banners and snatching away their self-made party hats.
With Junkrat’s face firmly under the boot of a henchmen, The Butcher starts again.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” He enquires. “Where’s the bomb?”
“We don’t know, you stupid bastard,” Junkrat says from under foot. “We don’t have anything to do with it!”
Marvolo II chimes in from an equally awkward position.
“This is stereotyping!” He bellows. “If we ever get out of this, Marvolo II has the best lawyer in all of Molvanîa!”
Colin nods at his goons, allowing them back to their feet.
“I believe you,” he sneers. “But if it turns out you had anything to do with it, I’ll be back.”
The Chairman storms off with his henchmen, leaving Marvolo II and Junkrat to sort themselves out.
“That guy is a prick!” Marvolo whispers. “Who does he think he is? The Butchinator?”
“Is it me or does he smell meaty?”
MAJOR THOM VS. BANZAN
An American hero debuts on a very special night but can he pick up a massive upset over a multiple time world champion or will Banzan be the mountain he cannot climb?
The bell sounds as Thom rushes in, picking Banzan up low and manhandling him down to the mat with a double leg-takedown. Thom begins raining down lefts and rights, Banzan only able to cover up from the onslaught before a massive headbutt from the Mountain gives him some breathing room. Banzan struggles to his feet as he walks right into a huge Bicycle Kick
SABOTAGE! The kick doesn’t put Banzan down but he’s out on his feet as a second Sabotage sends him crashing into the turnbuckles. Thom backs up a few paces before rushing forward but the attempted Avalanche hits only steel as Banzan manages to roll away. Thom staggers out right into…
DUKKA! The Saito Suplex drops Thom on his head as the Saboteur staggers up right into a flurry of lefts and rights from the mountain before a hard roundhouse leaves him out on his feet. Banzan backs up before rushing forward and locking in the SAMUDAYA SHINING TRIANGLE!
Thom is struggling on the mat as Banzan has the Triangle Choke locked in tight. It looks like he’s about to tap out before a massive roar comes from the American Hero who rises to his feet with Banzan clutching tightly and drops down with a massive Powerbomb. Thom just seals his fate however as the Powerbomb sinks the hold in tighter and he’s forced to tap out!
Banzan gets the clean victory here tonight but not without a massive war from the newcomer Major Thom who proved his worth in the Slaughterhouse ring.
CALYPSO VS. MOTHER
DREAM THEATRE TAKE OVER
MY BROTHER DAVE
The Plague Rat may be new to Old School Wrestling but knows exactly where he’s going tonight.
The locker room of Enigma.
He doesn’t knock and has no time for pleasantries as he barges in, looking for the man in charge.
“Where the fuck is Newton?” He growls, spitting as he speaks.
Helstrom, Sigil and Death immediately stand up to greet him, but Edward calms them down.
“Relax, gentlemen; I believe he wants to speak with me,” The Riddler says, pushing his way through Enigma to be at the forefront. “And how may I help you?”
“I’m lookin’ for my brother and the last I heard, you were here when he was.”
That perplexes Newton, who takes off his glasses and begins wiping them with his tie.
“You might know him as Dave or Don’t Trust Reason,” The Plague Rat continues.
Edward’s eyes widen in surprise. He hasn’t heard that name in a very long time.
“DTR is your brother?” Newton mumbles in a lower registry. “And you have no idea what happened to him? You have no idea what he did?”
“He nigh on ended the world. Your brother led a group called The Family with Lux Bellator to the birth of Lucifer on Earth,” Edward continues, looking angrier as he speaks. “He killed hundreds, if not more.”
That brings a smile to Rat’s face.
“And now?” He asks. “Where is he?”
“Dead!” Newton growls. “Your brother is dead.”
The Plague Rat nods with approval and a telling smile.
“Good riddance,” he says cheerfully. “It looks like I have a yard stick to measure up to after all.”
That intrigues Edward.
“Welcome to Old School Wrestling, Plague Rat.”
Enigma back off to their seats as Rat turns around, happily exiting the room with the information he came for.
His brother is dead.
#1 GRENADES VS. FREIGHT TRAIN FERGUSON
TWO V ONE MATCH
Freight Train Ferguson returns to the ring for the first time in two years to take on the ambiguously homoerotic duo of Marvolo II and Junkrat, #1 Grenades!
The bell rings, and Junkrat charges Freight Train Ferguson! BIG BOOT! “Take that, Bin Rabbit!” Marvolo immediately charges as well, but stops well short of a second big boot! As Ferguson’s leg is fully extended, Marvolo dips and uppercuts him right in his Little Engine That Could!
Ferguson haunches over, the wind taken right out of his sails! Marvolo tries to scoop Ferguson up for a body slam! But he can’t lift him! Damn it Marvolo, you delusional bitch! Ferguson palms Marvolo’s face and lifts him up into the air! ANOTHER LOWBLOW, THIS TIME FROM JUNKRAT!!! FTF GOES DOWN!!!
Marvolo and Junkrat team up and start stomping on Freight Train’s nuts, over and over again! Marvolo points Junkrat to the top rope, and splits Ferguson’s legs apart! Junkrat climbs to the top turnbuckle! THE RIP TIRE!!! THE CANNONBALL 450, RIGHT ONTO FREIGHT TRAIN’S LUMPS OF COAL!!! JESUS GOD!!!
But the #1 Grenades aren’t done! They both pull Freight Train up to his feet, and double Irish whip him into the ropes! DUAL LARIATS BY FTF!!! BUT BOTH #1 GRENADES DUCK! They both simultaneously dropkick him in the back of the knees! INVERTED DDT BY JUNKRAT!!! BIG SPLASH BY MARVOLO II! HE HOOKS THE LEGS!!! ONE, TWO, THREEEEEEE!!!
The Nutty Duo of #1 Grenades showed impressive, if not groin-focused teamwork tonight! They’ve certainly probably had plenty of practice! Their arms are raised high in victory!
In the locker room of Imperium, the group sits around a makeshift table, arranging plans that we can’t quite see.
Whatever they’re up to, it can’t be good.
When The Butcher walks in unannounced, everything stops.
“Gentlemen, I need your help,” he announces without hesitation. “As you may have heard, there’s a bomb in this building and I need to find it.”
Green smirks, looking at his crew.
“If you need something from us, that means you’re desperate,” he concludes.
Whitlock steps in, his arms folded.
“And if your desperate, our help comes at an affordable price.”
“Are you really going to play with your lives?” The Butcher asks, absolutely bemused. “If I don’t stop this bomb from going off, we all die.”
“That’s your problem, Colin,” Gouldern interrupts. “You look at this and see a problem; we look at it and see an opportunity.”
The Butcher grimaces, folding his arms.
“I have a bit of tech here that’ll help you locate your bomb,” Mark continues, rifling through his bag. “But we want something in return. At Grave Consequences, myself and Berkshire want a match.”
The Chairman doesn’t look best pleased, but he’s listening.
Green takes over.
“We want Newton and Storm in a Tag Team Buried Alive Match at Grave Consequences.”
“Done,” Colin says without hesitation. “It’s your funeral. Now give me the device.”
Gouldern smiles, handing over a small rectangular device. The Butcher looks at it, pressing the button.
Then it beeps.
“The boiler rooms?” The Butcher muses. “What the fuck?”
THOSE NOUGHTY’S GUYS VS. SCRIMSHAW & PICKPOCKET
TAG TEAM MATCH
Tonight, we have a tag team exhibition match! We have the team of Scrimshaw and Pickpocket facing the new yet familiar team of Those Noughtie’s Guys! It is Matthew Cories teaming up with his old partner’s son Jessie Williams! Will they find the same kind of success Those 90s guys did? We find out next!
DING! DING! It is Pickpocket and Cories starting the match! They tie up! Cories kicks Pickpocket in the gut and hits him with a right hook! Cories grabs Pickpocket’s arm and twists! He has that arm twisted! Pickpocket grabs a rope and backflips out of it! He dropkicks Cories in the back of the head!
Pickpocket tags in Scrimshaw! Both men are in and they are waiting for Cories to get up! He is pulling himself up! WHAT’S YOURS IS OURS! They hit a double cutter on Cories! It is a blatant rip-off of the dragon dagger and Scrimshaw covers! One…Two…No! Kickout by Cories!
The match is still going but Scrimshaw grabs Corie’s head and is bashing it on the mat! He flips over Cories and locks in the CAPTAIN’S HOOK! He is choking him out and it looks like he’s about to tap! He lifts his hand! CALL OF THE CHOSEN! Jessie breaks it up with a Swanton bomb!
Jessie drags Cories to their corner and tags himself in! He covers Scrimshaw! One…Two…No! Scrimshaw gets the shoulder up! Jessie climbs the turnbuckle again! He is going for the Swanton! He jumps! Scrimshaw rolls out of the way! Scrimshaw is crawling for the tag! Cories slides into the ring! Scrimshaw jumps for the tag! DRAGON DAGGER! Mid-air cutter during the jump! Cories kicks Pickpocket off the apron and Jessie covers Scrimshaw! One! Two! Three!
What a match!
THE END OF THE NINETIES
After that incredible match, the fans are on their feet in celebration as Jessie Williams and Matthew Cories receive a standing ovation in the middle of the ring.
They’re hugging, soaking in the applause from the crowd.
Suddenly, we’re thrust into darkness.
There’s a commotion. We can hear the ring bouncing back and forth but we can’t see anything happening inside it.
Just then, a single red light appears to illuminate a section in the middle of the ring.
Jessie Williams is laid out unconscious within it.
Matthew Cories has been brought to his knees beside him.
Black tendrils sweep up from within the canvas, latching onto Cories.
The voice laughs as the tendrils cover him entirely, leaving only the whites of his eyes visible.
“You’re just flesh and bone, mortal,” the voice grumbles angrily. “A worthless piece of shit that he worships. We have plans for him.”
Suddenly, Matty starts screaming. The tendrils begin tearing at his skin, forcibly ripping it from his bones.
Memories flash before his eyes. The Scarecrow from the first ever time he stepped foot inside an OSW ring.
His best friend, Ash Williams and their epic Championship title run.
But nothing can stop what comes next.
His blood curdling screams echo throughout a silenced Slaughterhouse as the red-light flickers in the ring.
“You should’ve never come back here. This place would always be the death of you, Matthew Cories.”
Finally, the screams stop.
The lights flicker back on and the tendrils vanish.
Jessie Williams slowly wakes up, groggy and in a haze. We focus on him, as Cories remains knelt in front of him.
He turns him around to check on him.
Only his face is gone. The skin has been pulled from it.
Williams screams, scampering backwards as Matty falls face first to the canvas.
Tears immediately begin streaming down the face of the young Jessie Williams, who can barely comprehend that his Uncle, his fathers’ best friend, has just been murdered.
LEE CROWLEY VS. ORDELL TERMINUS
DREAM THEATRE TAKE OVER
ALTON WHITLOCK © VS. X
VHS CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
We have a huge VHS Championship match tonight as Imperium trade blows. Can Whitlock retain his title or will X gain his second championship gold?
The bell starts as neither comrade gives an inch, both rushing out and dealing heavy blows in an exchange that the stronger X gets the better of with a stiff punch to the midsection. A wild right sends Alton back into the ropes before a massive Lariat on the rebound nearly takes his head off. X quickly drops down for the cover.
ONE…TWO…Alton gets the shoulder up. Whitlock tries to get to his feet but X is on him, mounting the champion before laying into him with huge elbows to the jaw. A desperation poke to the eye stuns X, allowing Whitlock to get to his feet while rocking X with a stiff kick to the jaw as he rises. Whitlock quickly wraps his knee around the prone X’s neck, PARTY POLITICS!
Alton scrambles down for a cover, ONE…TWO…X gets the shoulder up! Alton is annoyed but he hoists X up, stunning him with another kick to the jaw before trying to lift him up onto his shoulders for a Snap Election but X slips out the back. Alton turns around right into his own EXECUTION! The Bionic Arm Superman Punch hits flush but Alton stumbles out of the ropes to the floor below! X quickly rolls out of the ring, throwing Alton back into the ring as he hooks both legs for the cover.
ONE…TWO…THRE…ALTON JUST GETS THE SHOULDER UP! Whitlock saved himself by rolling out of the ring as X backs up, looking for another Execution. Alton slowly rises up to his feet as X rushes forward, EXECU…ALTON DUCKS UNDER! Kick to the gut as X turns around before hoisting X up onto his shoulders, BETTER WORLD! The Vertebreaker hits hard as Alton hooks both legs for the cover, ONE…TWO…THREE!!!
Whitlock does it here tonight, putting down a tough challenge in X but you’d have to assume he was very lucky to retain here tonight.
A VISION OF BAGHDAD
The sound of gunfire echoes loudly in the middle of an open warzone, accompanied by the sounds of men shouting and screaming.
Major Thom is running through the smoke, sliding into cover behind a broken brick wall. He reloads his gun, peering over the top to see what’s happening.
Only it isn’t what you’d expect.
Stood amongst the carnage is Gabriel Drake.
The Vampire slices at the throat of a comrade with his razor-sharp claws, murdering him there and then on the floor.
He moves onto the next, pulling him to his feet and sinking his teeth into him.
The soldier bellows in agony but is easily tossed aside.
Thom leaps into action, diving over the wall and running towards Drake but with a wisp of the cape, he’s gone.
The Major cradles his dying soldier, holding him as blood spews onto the battlefield.
Everything begins to shake.
Thom suddenly snaps out of what was a vivid nightmare, sweating profusely. He’s drenched and being shook by Malice – a friend.
“What was that?” Malice enquires, looking at his friend with concern. “Another flashback?”
“I’m not sure,” Thom replies, grabbing a towel from the side to mop his brow. “It was Baghdad. We fought a bloody battle there. Something happened, something none of us could explain. Something was on the battlefield that day – feasting.”
“That sounds classified,” Malice interrupts. “And he’s here?”
“I saw him, yeah.”
“Then you know what you have to do, Major.”
SEESAW VS. AESOP
Double Feature Champion meets one half of Fable, the Tag Team Champs tonight. Which belt is going to be raised high once this is all said and done? This one is for the pride of the gold!
The bell sounds and it is SeeSaw who goes on the offensive first. An Irish Whip sends Aesop into the ropes. SEESAW IS WAITING WITH A BACK BODY DROP! SeeSaw goes straight to wrap Aesop up into a SLEEPER HOLD! AESOP IS FADING ALREADY!
An Elbow to the ribs frees Aesop from the hold and he retaliates with a DOUBLE LEG TAKEDOWN! Aesop drops an Elbow on SeeSaw before manoeuvring himself for THE SERPENT! HE’S GOT THE COBRA CLUTCH LOCKED IN BUT NOT THE LEGS! SeeSaw howls in both pain and laughter but manages to knee Aesop in the family jewels for good measure. Aesop breaks the hold!
Both men scramble to their feet and lock horns. SeeSaw looks for a Snap DDT, but Aesop has it scouted. JUDO THROW TAKES DOWN SEESAW! SeeSaw rises but is met with a vicious Knife Edged Chop that backs him into the corner.
SeeSaw fights out, with a series of right hands that hit their mark. Enough to get him some breathing room. But Aesop picks him up… BUCKLE BOMB SILENCES SEESAW! Aesop scoops up his foe, into a Crucifix position! THE GIFT! THE GIFT INTO THE TURNBUCKLE! SeeSaw flops to a heap and Aesop covers for the pin. One! Two! Three!
Aesop is the Champion that stands tall tonight. One half of the newly crowned Tag Champs, Fable, he raises his belt high and continues to ride the momentum!
BERENGER VS. RAIN
DREAM THEATRE TAKE OVER
A TOY FOR EVERY OCCASION
“Welcome to Tranquillity Lane.”
Theme music sounds as a SeeSaw’s toybox logo appears on screen.
We shortly transition into the backstage area, where SeeSaw appears to be tinkering with something out of camera view.
“In times like these, isolated and alone, it can tough for all my kiddos out there,” SeeSaw says with an extenuated sad face. “But don’t worry, kids, SeeSaw has a way to brighten up your day!”
He smiles so wide; his pearly whites almost blind us.
“When all your toys are boring and sad, you can do what I do and create your own. You’ve all seen the Freeman Blaster, right?” He asks with his eyebrows risen. “Well, take a look at my latest creation!”
The camera lowers down to see the head of Freight Train Ferguson.
It’s detached from his fucking body.
His afro hair has been precisely cut into a square shape and is bald in the centre, almost like a wrestling ring. SeeSaw grabs two tiny robots and places them inside the square.
He starts thrashing the head around, watching and laughing with glee as the robots bounce around each other, springing off the nappy hair.
“I call it the Freight Training Centre!” SeeSaw says with such a happy smile, you’d believe he just bought it. “So kids, if you’re looking for a new toy to make this Easter Holiday; something to cure the boredom and make things better…”
SeeSaw pauses, his face scrunching up as the camera zooms in.
He looks furious.
“Rip the head off your parents and give this a try.”
MATTER OF FACT
In the locker room belonging to Enigma, Edward Newton and Sigil sit on opposite sides of the room ahead of what will be an hellacious bout between them later tonight.
You’d think there was tension or an atmosphere.
But there isn’t.
In fact, they have other matters to discuss.
“Do you have a plan for Bill?” Newton asks, looking Sigil dead in the eyes.
The Collector nods.
“Are you sure you want to go down this road?” He asks, concerned. “You may be a master of the long game but I’m certain this one will backfire.”
“Have you seen that in the future?” Newton replies, with a knowing smirk.
“No, I haven’t. Call it intuition.”
Edward stands up with a shrug of his shoulders, walking towards a table with a pitcher of water and pouring himself a glass.
“I expect this to backfire, as a matter of fact,” Edward admits, taking a sip. Sigil looks surprised and walks over to meet him. “At Grave Consequences, he needs to see our truth. By the time Ring of Dreams rolls around, everything will be in order.”
“What is your plan, Newton?” Sigil wants to know, folding his arms. “I’d feel better looped in than out.”
“It ends with me on top of the mountain once again, but more than that, it ends with Luke Storm crawling back into that hole of a town he came from.”
“And Kirby?” Sigil enquires.
“Merely a tool; a means to make life difficult. There will come a time when he and I stand opposite each other in battle, but it’ll be the right time.”
The sinister smile of Edward Newton unnerves even Sigil, who says nothing as we cut.
THE CRYPTKEEPER VS. MARK GOULDERN
Can smart technology foresee future events which have already been written about? Find out next!
The Cryptkeeper nearly beheads Gouldern with a big boot out of the gate, but Mark ducks it and pushes him into the corner. He subdues The Storyteller with TeleGauntlet-powered blows, then sends him packing into the opposite turnbuckle. He charges in after him and leaps into the air with the TeleBoots – MASSIVE CORNER SPLASH! ONE… TWO… Kickout!
The Herald of The Future pulls ‘Keeper up into a DDT… PLANNED OBSOLESCENCE – BUT HE FINDS HIMSELF IN A BEDTIME STORY! The Cryptkeeper has the bear hug locked in, using those bony arms to squeeze the life out of the founder of Telegon! Mark struggles in the punishing hold – BUT THE TELEBOOTS CARRY HIM OVER TO THE ROPES, DRAGGING ‘KEEPER WITH HIM!
Tired of Gouldern’s mechanical advantage, ‘Keeper swats his glasses away and RAKES his eyes! He whips him across the ring – BIG BOOT! That tale had A BEGINNING, MIDDLE & END! ONE… TWO… Shoulder up! The Cursed bides his time… CURSE OF THE—RUTHLESS INSPIRATION! Mark interrupts the European uppercut with a decapitating dropkick! ONE… TWO… Two-point-nine!
Both competitors lean on each other as they climb to their feet. Gouldern goes for THE DISRUPTION – but ‘Keeper side-steps it! THE CURSE OF THE CRYPTKEEPER!? Mark’s hi-tec kicks propel him out of harm’s way! THE DISRUPTION misses its mark again! THE CURSE doesn’t find its victim! Whoever lands their knockout strike first—THE DISRUPTION CONNECTS! ONE… TWO… THREE!
Did The Cryptkeeper know how his own tale would end tonight? Gouldern’s AI, Telaris, may have predicted it either way.
SCARECROW VS. TOMMY HAWK
DREAM THEATRE TAKE OVER
THE YARD STICK
Dice and Kazaku are backstage, talking amongst themselves. It’s not the first time they’ve met and after their match, there seems to be a spark of interest between them – a brewing friendship, perhaps?
Suddenly and abruptly, Kazaku is walloped from behind by a large bamboo stick, knocking her into Dice before toppling her to the floor.
Dice meanwhile stumbles but is no match for the speed of which another strike comes, landing across his head and busting him wide open.
He falls to the floor in a heap, unconscious.
The Plague Rat.
He aggressively swings the stick back and forth, slamming it down across the bodies of Dice and Kazaku.
“It seems my brother was quite the fuckin’ big deal around here,” he says between lashings.
Another brutal eye watering shot lands on Kazaku.
“And this right here is my measuring stick.”
One more shot to Dice breaks the stick in half.
“Shit, I guess I fuckin’ broke it, huh?” TPR groans, before laughing. He tosses the stick down and drops to his knees, mounting Dice. “We’re all new here kid and some of us need to make a name for ourselves.”
Before he can land an intended punch, he’s almost rugby tackled off of Dice and onto the floor.
Rat looks up.
“You forgot about me,” Malice says. “I’ve dealt with terrorists like you in the past, Rat-boy.”
TPR gets back to his feet, grunting.
“You’re not the only one who needs to make a name for himself,” Malice continues. “I’ll see you next week.”
THE SHARKMAN VS. THE RED DEATH
Can The Red Death survive a shark attack, or will there be blood in the water!?
The Crimson Scourge comes out swinging at The Sharkman, but the maneater weaves behind him. He kicks out his leg, then plants him with a bulldog! Death recovers, only to be pulled back under by a German suplex. He rolls onto all fours, but Sharkman strikes with a running dropkick! ONE… TWO… Red kicks out!
Sharkman points to the ropes and heads up top. He’s going for the SHARK DIVE – BUT DEATH THROWS A REDBLADE AT HIM! The shuriken misses—avoiding a DQ—but Sharkman loses his balance and topples to the mat! He crawls back to his feet, but Red traps him in a double-underhook… RETURN TO ARKHAM DDT! ONE… TWO… Shoulder up!
Death pounds the mat. He wants to make another hero fall, just like he did! He takes it on himself to start pulling at Sharkman’s mask – but The Finned Avenger grabs his arm and traps him in the SHARKMAN SPECIAL! Death screams and reaches for the ropes with his free hand, but they’re too far away! He rolls, pulling Sharkman into a schoolboy pin! ONE… TWO… THREE!? NOT QUITE!
Sharkman pauses to fix his mask – just long enough for Death to sneak in with the KILLING JOKE turnbuckle bulldog! Death backs up, savouring this moment: the desperation of the fans; their loss of hope in their hero. Just like with him. Sharkman comes to… DARKNESS FALLS – but Sharkman heads off the curb stomp with a SUSHI KICK shining wizard! ONE… TWO… THREE!
The Sharkman fin-ishes The Red Death!
THE MASK II
This is surreal.
The Sharkman stands in the middle of the ring having prevailed over The Red Death.
And what comes next is as promised.
The Shark turns Death over, mounting him. He lands a right hand for good measure, making sure that the former hero doesn’t fight him.
Then he pulls it from his head – The Red Death cowl, removed.
It’s Bill Kirby who remains.
Only Bill isn’t as we remember. He’s bald and there’s a sticky black substance leeching onto his head that pulls violently away with the mask.
Suddenly, Kirby’s eyes open wide.
He uppercuts Sharkman off him, knocking him to the canvas in a heap and spilling the mask away. The volatile Bill Kirby pulls himself back to his feet scarily, looming over the man that just beat him.
It’s his turn.
Kirby leaps into the air with a vile Curbstomp to The Sharkman, smashing his head into the canvas.
He doesn’t stop there.
Stomp after stomp, he violently and brutally slams his foot down on the head of the Shark until blood starts seeping from the mask onto the canvas.
Suddenly, he regales, holding his head with a tense scream.
He scrambles across the ring towards his mask, picking it up and putting it back on his head. His eyes glaze over as he falls backwards into the corner, slumping down.
Something isn’t right.
Across from him, The Sharkman hasn’t moved.
Not even an inch.
He pulls himself back to his feet and walks over to the body of his once opponent, nudging him gently with his boot, seeing no signs of life.
“May Death be a mercy.”
Smiling, The Red Death exits the ring, leaving Shark as a reminder that this man, whoever he is or was, is now a threat so dangerous that he may not be stopped.
BEG © VS. GABRIEL DRAKE
The Rewind Championship hangs above the ring as Gabriel Drake and BEG make their entrances. The debuting Drake has the opportunity of a hundred lifetimes if he is able to put down BEG. Can BEG stop the Vampire in his tracks?
BEG approaches Dracula with caution, sizing him up. However, the Lord of Darkness has different plans and comes soaring at BEG, catching him with a straight right fist that sends the Rewind Champion staggering. THROAT THRUST follows the strike and BEG is backed into the corner. BLOOD DRIVE! BEG IS BLEEDING FROM THE NAIL SWIPES TO HIS CHEST!
Gabriel launches at him, aiming for the throat but BEG grabs him by the wrist and wraps him up into a KOJI CLUTCH! Drake howls in pain, but soon manages to get control of the situation, standing himself to his feet with BEG on his back!
Drake’s superhuman strength is on display as he pulls BEG around onto his shoulders. SAMOAN DROP! BEG IS PLANTED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING! Drake exits the ring, retrieves a ladder and sets it up underneath the Rewind Championship. Determinedly, he begins to climb!
Drake is almost at the top of the ladder when BEG staggers to his feet. BEG climbs after him and the pair exchange blows on the ladder top. THE FALL! FALLING CHOKESLAM FROM THE TOP OF THE LADDER! BEG has his skull nearly driven through the mat and Gabriel Drake begins to climb again. Reaching the top, he unhooks the belt uncontested! We have a new Rewind Champion!
What a debut from Gabriel Drake! One of the fastest rises to the Champion’s circle that we have ever seen. The Lord of Darkness has risen indeed!
The OSW Champion is gearing up for a huge title defence here tonight against The Judge. He’s warming up inside his locker room when the door knocks.
Not expecting visitors, he opens it cautiously, revealing Sigil.
The Collector doesn’t hesitate and walks in, leaving Luke somewhat surprised at the door. He carefully closes it behind him and heads back to his bench, where the OSW Championship sits comfortably.
“Did he send you?” Luke asks, grabbing the belt and putting it over his shoulder.
Sigil shakes his head.
“I’m not here for Newton, I’m here for me,” Sigil says with a sinister tone. “And I’m here for that.”
The Collector points at the title.
“I’ve come to let you know that at Pandemonium, it’ll be me and you for The Championship – that’s if you make it past The Judge tonight.”
“Oh, I’ll make it past The Judge, you don’t have to worry about that,” he arrogantly proclaims, taking off his glasses. “But you have to make it to Pandemonium first and any alliance with Edward Newton is automatically shaky ground.”
“Do you think you can get in my head, Storm? That Championship will become the centrepiece of my collection,” he says, stepping closer, almost face to face. “There’s nothing you can say to stop me.”
The Champion chuckles, shrugging his shoulders.
“We’ll see,” he says, walking towards the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m heading to my match but believe me, I’ll see you at Pandemonium – one way or another.”
Luke exits the locker room with a smile, heading towards the ring.
Sigil though quickly begins searching the room, tossing bits and pieces all over the place until he finds something. We can’t quite make out what it is. He places it in his pocket and leaves hastily.
FAMILY VS. BELLATORUM
DREAM THEATRE TAKE OVER
LUKE STORM © VS. THE JUDGE
It all comes down to this! The choice is made, and Luke Storm defends his OSW Championship against The Judge here tonight!
The Judge uses his size advantage early on, clearly overpowering the champ with a heavy offense culminating in a bodyslam that drives Storm down hard to the canvas. The champ slowly gets back to his feet, showing his resiliency as he unloads a flurry of hard kicks on The Judge!
The champ is hitting his stride here, but The Judge stops him in his tracks with a hard right hand to the jaw that sends Storm reeling back…THE VERDICT! Judge drops the champ down hard with that Sparta Kick, and the momentum is clearly in his favor at the moment!
Judge looks to the cage, knowing what needs to be done to obtain the OSW Championship as he approaches. He climbs the cage, but Storm is already right there beside him, connecting some punches on The Judge before managing to pull him off…sending both men down hard to the canvas!
Judge is the first to get back to his feet, picking the champ up in the hopes of putting an end to him for good. Judge looking to lay Storm out with the Restoration…BUT STORM CATCHES HIM BY SURPRISE, CONNECTING WITH THE DOWNPOUR! Judge goes down hard after that Codebreaker!
Storm focuses his attention on the cage, looking to retain his title tonight as he approaches it. He is able to get halfway up before Judge can even get to his feet, and despite Judge’s best efforts to catch up, the champ makes it up over the top of the cage, dropping down to the floor below!
Luke Storm has done it here tonight, overcoming the challenge of The Judge to retain the OSW Championship!
It’s a race against time.
The Butcher has been searching the boiler rooms for hours with no such luck. The device pinged it to this area, but it wasn’t specific.
He rounds a corner, certain that he’s going in circles, when he bumps into the glowing scythe of The Judge.
“Have you considered that such folly is unwise?” The Judge questions, blocking his path. The Butcher steps back, unsure. “If fate has decided, why do you intervene?”
Colin thinks about it.
“Who’s to say that fate has decided?” He replies confidently. “What if this isn’t folly, but the plan?”
“One way or another, we shall find out; but I warn you that all must be judged.”
“Not tonight,” Colin interrupts. “I don’t know who planted this bomb or why but what I do know is that I’m going to stop it, hell or highwater, I’m going to stop it.”
The Chairman pushes past The Judge and continues on his mission, only they’re not finished.
“There is no stopping the inevitable, Colin. Whether now or later, The Slaughterhouse will meet its grizzly end. Why don’t you understand that? Old School Wrestling is a vehicle for death; it always has been.”
That stops The Butcher in his tracks, who turns his head.
“Why do you think I resurrected it?” He sneers. “Death is my business, son.”
The Judge says nothing.
“I’ve devoted everything, every resource, every day, every ounce of sweat, blood and tears to get one step closer to…. Nevermind.”
Casually, he continues into the darkness, leaving The Judge behind.
“One step closer to the edge,” The Judge replies softly.
EDWARD NEWTON VS. SIGIL
STEEL CELL MATCH
12 Hours in Hell… IN A CELL!
Sigil and Newton at first avoid eye contact, instead opting to truly breathe in their claustrophobic surroundings.
The Collector must surely be eyeing this 20-feet-tall cage with perverse greed. Such a twisted, diabolical structure would be a prized item at the Citadel. A monument to Man’s inhumanity to Man.
The Mastermind is, as always, a harder read. The cogs are whirring furiously behind that honed poker-face. You’d have to imagine, however, that a victory inside these barbaric confines would rank as highly as any—perhaps moreso—in his legendary 75 win-streak.
Both men finally lock eyes, and the burning intensity behind that stare is enough to melt the steel which surrounds them.
The bell rings, and they step forwards.
HELL IN A CELL – social distancing be damned!
Sigil takes the fight right to Newton. He jacks him in the mouth with a forearm, then clatters his jaw with a European uppercut! Edward is sent reeling into the ropes. Sigil rips Edward’s emerald vest and black shirt open, then lights him up with blistering chops to the chest! Newton grimaces as he nurses his raw pectorals. Sigil whips him into the opposing ropes, then floors him with a back elbow which sends his trilby flying! It’s early going, but Sigil has seized control thus far.
Newton climbs to his feet, but a kick to the hamstring forces him down to one knee. He pulls himself up using the ropes – only to have the back of his knee taken out! Sigil tees off on a kneeling Newton, leathering his welted chest with stinging kicks! He steps back, sizing up Edward… SUPERKICK—
THE RIDDLER GRABS HIS LEG!
Sigil hops up and down. Thinking on his feet—literally—he spins round with an ENZUIGIRI – but Newton DUCKS it! Always two steps ahead!
Edward stands over a prone Sigil, still holding his leg. He pulls up as hard as he can, lifting Sigil up and slamming his kneecap into the canvas! Muffled moans escape Sigil’s metallic mask. He tries to crawl away, but Edward cracks his kneecap off the mat again! Sigil roars in pain, but a merciless Newton tries to shatter his kneecap for the third straight time!
He rolls him over for the cover, making sure to hook the leg as viciously as possible.
Sigil certainly doesn’t want to kick out right now. He drags himself away, but Edward stalks him like a hyena. He stands on the ankle of his injured leg, regarding his prey with the same curiosity as a scientist observing a lab rat. Newton STOMPS Sigil’s knee, then pulls him over to the ropes. Draping his leg over the middle rope, he straddles the same rope himself, jumping down with ALL his weight on Sigil’s extremity! Sigil tries to unhook himself from the ropes, but the pain proves debilitating as Newton drops the entirety of his 180-pound frame twice more on his afflicted limb.
The tables have turned here, as Newton reminds everybody how he came to be undefeated for 75 straight matches: evaluate; isolate; decimate!
Newton drags Sigil back into the middle of the ring, with little resistance. He grabs hold of both legs and looks up.
“This is for YOU, Luke!” He yells.
He turns Sigil over into THE RIDDLE BOX, his own patented lion tamer hold!
BUT SIGIL SPINS OUT OF IT!
NEWTON CARTWHEELS THROUGH THE AIR, landing back-first on the mat!
Sigil desperately claws his way to the ropes and heaves himself up, having damn-near ripped his own knee to shreds just to escape The Riddle Box.
Edward quickly recovers and charges at his hobbled opponent—
BACK BODY DROP OVER THE TOP ROPE!
NEWTON SPILLS TO THE FLOOR, THE CELL WALL RATTLING AS HE ROLLS INTO IT!
Sigil immediately collapses, but he’s bought himself valuable time. If there’s anyone who appreciates the value of a second, it’s Sigil.
He slaps his knee and flexes his leg, trying to encourage circulation. Once again, he uses the ropes to pull himself up—
BUT NEWTON TRIPS HIM UP FROM OUTSIDE!
Sigil hits the mat face-first, though his metal mask saves him from being knocked unconscious. Edward pulls him out of the ring under the bottom rope…
ONLY TO BE ROCKED BY A BACKWARDS HEADBUTT!
Sigil isn’t going down without a fight!
He RAMS himself backwards, CRUSHING Newton against the cage wall!
Edward is stuck between a rock and a hard place! Sigil spins round and UNLOADS on his tormentor! He hits him with such speed and ferocity that he threatens to mince him THROUGH the steel mesh!
A shot to the gut doubles Newton over, as he coughs and splutters. Sigil grabs him by the head and BASHES the back of his skull off the cage, trying to crack it open like a coconut! Not yet satisfied with his handiwork, he RAKES Edward’s face against the chicken-wire!
Newton screams as his flesh is GRATED away, his purple eye-mask the only saving grace…
MULE KICK BY THE ENIGMA!
The blind low-blow strikes true, felling Sigil.
Edward turns around, now wearing a CRIMSON MASK!
At this critical juncture, something changes in the leader of Ǝnigma. Something primal. Perhaps feeling the same endangerment that he did when he first tasted defeat, his self-preservation kicks into overdrive.
He steps over Sigil and tears the ring apron back. He tosses various weapons over his shoulder—trash can, baking tray, STOP sign—as he rifles through the inventory. He finally emerges, brandishing an EMERALD-GREEN STEEL CHAIR!
He walks back over to the wounded Sigil, who looks up into his bloodied face. Edward checks his wristwatch.
“You’re out of time, my friend.”
He winds back and SWINGS the chair as hard as he possibly can, SMACKING Sigil across the back! The Realm Walker must wish he were anywhere else right now, as Newton WRAPS the chair round his shoulders once more. Sigil writhes in agony, but Edward continues in his onslaught. CRACK! SMACK! CRACK! SMACK! The chairshots ring out like GUNSHOTS in the Slaughterhouse, punctuated by Sigil’s stifled screams. CRACK! SMACK! The deformed chair is left with an imprint of Sigil’s spinal chord!
Sigil rolls onto his back, his body wracked with pain. The Slaughterhouse lights blind him… but Newton looms over him, like an apocalyptic eclipse. He raises the mangled chair over his head, primed to deliver the killing blow…
SIGIL GRABS THE STOP SIGN AND DEFLECTS THE CHAIRSHOT!
Edward immediately drops the twisted seat, groaning as his wrists are nearly reduced to dust. Sigil, meanwhile, looks to do a spot of baking –
BAKING TRAY TO THE HEAD!
Newton stumbles backwards, seeing stars.
Sigil soldiers through the pain and gets to his feet unsteadily. He scoops up the nearby trash can and turns it upside-down. He dumps it over Edward Newton’s head, pinning his arms inside! He disappears under the ring to rummage for something… A baseball bat!
Time for a little payback!
Sigil goes HAM on Newton, swinging for the fences and denting the aluminium can with every blow – to say nothing of Edward’s bones and organs! CRUNCH! THUD! CRUNCH! THUD! Sigil’s batsmanship, moulding the bin to Newton’s contours, is strangely reminiscent of a marble sculptor creating his next work of art.
A forwards thrust with the bat sends Edward back blindly into the cell wall. Sigil tosses the bat aside and eyeballs the distance between himself and his adversary. Only the steel ring stairs come between them.
Sigil slaps his knee. He’s managed to fight a more grounded match, but he needs to take this shot…
He CHARGES towards Newton, bad knee and all—
SIGIL VAULTS OFF OF THE RING STEPS—
HE HITS HIM WITH A DROPKICK SO HARD THAT THEY BOTH GO THROUGH THE FUCKING CELL WALL!
The trash can DISINTEGRATES on impact. Sigil lands on top of Newton, both of them lying at a 45-degree angle, as the fence panel under them is propped up on the neighbouring ring barricade. Two panels remain standing on this side, as does the Cell itself.
Both their chests rise and fall rapidly, sweat—and, in Edward’s case, blood—pouring off of them.
Sigil recovers first. He gingerly places his weight on his leg as he balances on the steep steel platform underfoot. He picks Newton up by the head and forces him backwards over his good knee. It looks like it’s going to be a LONG ROAD AHEAD for Edward—
BUT THE RIDDLER BLOCKS THE ELBOW TO THE FACE!
HE WEAVES ROUND TO SIGIL’S BAD LEG—
RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP ONTO THE CELL PANEL!
The IMPACT and combined weight of both men causes the mesh to sag and fail at several points! Newton escapes unscathed, but Sigil is TRAPPED between the metal panel edge and the barb-like exposed tips!
Of all the screams, moans, and groans in this helacious encounter, perhaps the most painful and relatable sound thus far is the long, tired sigh which leaves the mouthpiece of Sigil’s mask. Like his soul fighting to vacate its tortured, broken vessel. He’s simply had enough, as he looks up to the rafters…
“Like I said: time waits for no man.”
The bloodied Edward Newton taunts Sigil as he re-enters the frame – SCALING THE CELL WALL!
Sigil digs deep. One last push. One final stand.
Edward beckons him, and he FORCES himself up – SCRAPING HIS OWN FLESH OFF AS HE FREES HIMSELF FROM THE TORN-UP PANEL!
Sigil grips the mesh of the remaining panels with slack hands, his strength sapped. Running on fumes, he HOISTS himself up. Blood oozes from his puncture wounds, dribbling down his arms and dripping from his elbows to the floor below – five feet, ten feet…
He goes dizzy, his vision vignetting.
If he falls now, he could lose much more than this match…
Sigil shakes off the cobwebs and pushes on, the summit of the Cell stretching off into the horizon in his distorted vision.
He huffs himself onto the summit of the Cell, resting on all fours.
“There are some things you just can’t change.”
NEWTON KICKS SIGIL UPSIDE THE HEAD!
THE COLLECTOR TOPPLES OVER THE EDGE – BUT HE NARROWLY HOLDS ON!
CLINGING ON FOR DEAR LIFE, SIGIL SWINGS HIS LEGS UP AND SAVES HIMSELF!
Edward gives him no respite, however, as he pulls him to his feet in a front facelock. He drags him to the middle of the Cell and wraps his arm round his neck – SNAP SUPLEX ON TOP OF THE CELL!
THE CENTRE PANEL CREAKS AND GROANS UNDER THE IMPACT!
Newton clucks his tongue as he gets to his feet and pulls Sigil up again. He traps him in a waistlock…
A GERMAN SUPLEX SHAKES THE ENTIRE CELL!
THERE’S AN AUDIBLE CRACK, BUT THINGS HOLD STEADY – FOR NOW!
Edward sits up and cracks his own back. He tuts at the unexpected rigidity of the structure.
Scooping The Realm Walker up, he lifts him ONTO HIS SHOULDERS!
NO FUCKING WAY!
HE’S GOING FOR IT—
THE ENIGMA THEOREM!
DEATH VALLEY DRIVER!
THE CELL PANEL GIVES WAY!
THEY PLUMMET TWENTY FEET TO THE RING BELOW—
WHAT THE FUCK!?
BOTH MEN DISAPPEAR—
SIGIL HAS TAKEN NEWTON WITH HIM TO ANOTHER REALM!
THEY REAPPEAR – IN MID-FUCKING AIR!
SIGIL IS GOING FOR THE GERMAN SUPLEX TO END ALL SUPLEXES—
THEY LAND IN A SICKENING FUCKING HEAP!
THE RING SHIFTS TWO INCHES FROM THE SHEER IMPACT!
BUT DID SIGIL EXECUTE IT OR NOT!?
They seemed to fall in slow motion, yet it was over in the blink of an eye!
It remains unclear as to whether Sigil actually hit the Journey’s End, as both men lay in a crumpled pile, their bodies spent. Edward Newton, however, has landed on top of him – very much worse for wear!
There’s nothing else to be done. There’s only one way this match ends.
Sigil fought valiantly – a true warrior. He may have survived Hell in a Cell—though even that is up in the air—but Edward Newton has thrived in these inhumane conditions, emerging the victor!
MIKE LANE VS. BRENT KERSH
DREAM THEATRE TAKE OVER
With the countdown nearly at zero, The Butcher rounds a corner towards the deepest and darkest recess of what feels like a never-ending boiler room. It’s so dark, we can barely see him.
And there it is, the bomb.
But it isn’t alone.
Stood over it is a darkened figure that we can barely see. The Butcher though, he’s close enough that he see’s everything.
“You?” He queries with equal parts shock and horror. “What are you doing here?”
The person stays hidden shrouded in darkness.
“The bomb is a fake,” The faintly recognisable voice laments. “A trap, if I had ever seen one.”
“What the fuck do you mean?” Colin demands to know. “What’s going on?”
“He set this up. Flavo. Didn’t you find it curious that he’d bring you and The Slaughterhouse to Inanis?”
The Butcher doesn’t understand.
“He did it to protect us,” he replies.
“If you die in the real world, you die here, Butcher – there is no protection,” the person angrily retorts. “Don’t you see? He brought you here and planted this bomb because he knew I’d have to break my cover to thwart it. I wouldn’t have my disguise or a way to get it. This was an elaborate scheme to reveal my identity.”
Colin steps backwards, slowly beginning to understand what’s happening.
“Time has stopped here,” he muses. “That means he can’t traverse it and neither can you.”
“And you understand what that means, don’t you?” The figure asks, menacingly.
“It means that either Flavo shows up, or I’m dead.”
As quick as you can imagine, The Butcher reaches inside his pocket for the button given to him earlier by Flavo.
Only the person at the bomb is quicker. He thrusts something sharp through his chest, piercing him violently.
The Butcher immediately drops the button, falling carefully to his knees.
Blood begins spewing from his mouth.
He coughs and splutters.
“I’m sorry Colin,” the voice says, watching as the Chairman of Old School Wrestling slowly dies before him. “I wish it hadn’t come to this, but I can’t have my identity revealed; not yet. There’s too much at stake.”
The Butcher falls flat to his back, holding the wound in his chest. His eyes roll back into his head as blood seeps out all over the floor.
The final thing we see is that of blood pooling on the floor of the boiler room.
The Butcher, murdered.