[Wrr.]

[Click.]

[Static covers the screen as a Play ► symbol appears in the bottom right-hand corner.]

[Static.]

[The event opens with a cold open, and static blooms across the darkness like a storm of ghosts. Through the haze, a lavish hall slowly emerges — its gilded walls muted by shadow, its marble floor swallowed by silence. Around a great oak table sit figures draped in red cloaks. Their faces remain unseen, hidden deep within their hoods, as though identity itself has been erased.]

[Only the candles tremble.]

[At the head of the table, a man lifts a gavel. The sound of its strike rings out — sharp, commanding, final — and the echoes coil through the vaulted chamber.]

Unknown Leader: “A heinous act has been committed against us,” [he declares, his voice measured but burning beneath restraint.] “We must do something about it immediately.”

Across the table, a cloaked figure shifts, his voice calm yet hesitant. “We should wait and see what happens,” [he says.] “We shouldn’t act so hastily.”

[Another speaks, uncertain, almost bewildered.]

Unknown Subordinate:“It is all for one and one for all. I don’t understand why we’re meeting.”

[Their words unravel into discord. Voices rise, cloaks rustle, and the hall fills with restless argument. The unseen faces tilt toward one another, tension thickening the air, every syllable striking like flint against stone.]

[The gavel falls again — harder, unyielding.]

Unknown Leader: “Order!” [The cloaked leader commands, and the noise collapses into silence.]

[For a long moment, nothing moves but the wavering flames.]

[Then his voice returns, low and resolute, echoing with promise and threat in equal measure.]

Unknown Leader: “In due time,” [he says,] “He will return from hiatus. And when He does, He will make the decision.”

[The gavel lowers to the table.]

[The hall grows still.]

[And the static sweeps back in, swallowing everything.]

[Cut.]

[The Temple glows in electric blues and neon magentas, its towering balconies thrumming with anticipation. Fireworks bloom overhead in sharp, glittering bursts, and the opening chords of “Pixelated Glory” crash through the rafters like thunder. The crowd rises as one — a living sea of silhouettes — and the chant rolls through the arena in a tidal roar:]

“OSDUB! OSDUB! OSDUB!”

[Our camera floats through the charged air, circling the ring at the heart of it all — ropes humming like wires of fate — before drifting toward the announce table, where two figures sit beneath the flickering banners of masked icons. The noise softens, but the energy never fades.]

[Signal leans forward, translating the heartbeat of The Temple itself through the signals spiking on his mask. Beside him, Black Scar rests in shadow, still and dangerous, like a blade waiting to be drawn.]

Signal: “Welcome… welcome to The Temple — and welcome to Wrestle Heroes. Tonight, everything you see will unfold inside that ring. One long match, one relentless story… and you can bet it’ll be interrupted by more than a few shenanigans along the way. OSW has changed the frequency of professional wrestling for years — and tonight… tonight, it happens again.”

[A low chuckle slips from Scar, dragging across the moment like gravel.]

Black Scar: “Someone walks out of here the OSW World Champion… but they’re not walking out clean. They’re going to crawl through glass, through blood, through hell to get it. And I’ll be right here to enjoy every second.”

[Signal exhales, half-amused, half-appalled — yet undeniably swept up in the gravity of the night.]

Signal: “You always know how to paint a comforting picture, Scar. But you’re right — destiny’s waiting, and The Temple is ready to witness it.”

[Scar tilts his head, voice sinking into a dangerous whisper.]

Black Scar: “Then let the suffering begin.”

[Signal straightens, energy returning to his voice — firm, focused, alive.]

Signal: “And with that… we take you to the top of the temple, where our—” [he pauses, just enough to scoff] “—our supreme leader — his words, not ours — Marvolo… is standing by.”

[We pan into the office of Marvolo, live from the Temple. He sits behind a dark wood desk with a Luchador mask carved in the middle. Naturally, a circled M sits atop the mask. His hands are steepled. It’s pitch black behind him.]

[He’s important. Very important.]

Marvolo: “Welcome one and all to Wrestle Heroes!”

The crowd pop loud enough for him to hear it inside his office, right at the top of the Temple.

Marvolo: “Old School Wrestling has a proud legacy; perhaps a prouder and more incredible legacy than any of you realize. In fact— “ [Raquel suddenly appears from within the shadows and gives him a shove, reminding him of his words before stepping back into the shadows. He clears his throat.] “It’s a legacy built on sweat, pain, bad decisions, contractual loopholes and a lot of heaven and hell.”

He nods solemnly.

Marvolo: “And tonight marks the next stage of that legacy. A new era. A bold era. An era where absolutely nothing will go wrong.”

The crowd chuckles.

Marvolo: “Tonight’s show is one long Wrestle Heroes Match. By the end of the night, we’ll have crowned our Hardcore, Ultraviolent, Gift of the Gods and OSW World Champions.”

Big pop from the crowd.

Marvolo: “However—”

The crowd quieten down, preparing themselves.

Marvolo: “—should there be any funny business, any hijinks, any shenanigans, or heaven forbid… slapstick… the roster will have to answer to my enforcers.”

Awkward pause.

Marvolo: “Gentlemen?”

Two men step into frame behind Marvolo. One is short and fat in a blue suit. The other is very fat in a red suit.

The crowd erupts in laughter and cheers. They immediately recognize them both.

Marvolo: “Allow me to introduce… Marvolo Junior…”

Marvolo Junior waves enthusiastically, nearly tipping over. He puts a box stool down besides Marvolo and stands on it, making himself taller.

Marvolo Jr: “Hi everybody!”

Marvolo: “…and Marvolo the Second.”

Marvolo II cracks his knuckles, then immediately winces.

Marvolo II: “I pulled something,” [he groans.] “I definitely pulled something.”

[Marvolo Junior meanwhile is eager.]

Marvolo Jr: “Do we enforce now?” [He says, looking around excitedly.]

Marvolo: “No.”

[Slight pause.]

Marvolo Jr: “How about now?”

[Marvolo looks at him with disgust.]

Marvolo: “Still no.”

[The crowd laughs again.]

Marvolo: “The point is… order will be maintained, fear will be instilled and dignity will be preserved.”

[All three pause.]

[Marvolo II shrugs.]

Marvolo II: “I’m hungry.”

[The camera zooms out as the crowd cheers and the three men awkwardly chat amongst themselves.]

Signal: “Ladies and Gentlemen of Molvania and the World, welcome to Wrestle Heroes.”

[The arena lights drop to black.]

[A single spotlight snaps on in the centre of the ring.]

Signal: “Hooo boy, we’re about to be underway folks!”

[Propaganda stands alone, masked, motionless, a microphone held calmly at his lips. The crowd noise dulls, uncertain.]

Propaganda: “Every age has a message.”

[He slowly turns, letting the spotlight follow.]

Propaganda: “Some are whispered. Some are sung.”

[A faint smile beneath the mask.]

Propaganda: “Mine is broadcast.”

[Scattered boos. Scattered cheers.]

Propaganda: “You think belief is a choice.”

[He shakes his head.]

Propaganda: “It isn’t. Belief is gravity. You fall whether you want to or not.”

[He raises a finger.]

Propaganda: “Obey. Submit. Believe.”

[Suddenly—]

[The lights stutter.]

[The big screen glitches — pixels tearing, colours warping.]

[8-bit tones chirp through the speakers.]

[PixelShift appears at the top of the ramp in a burst of digital distortion, looking around in confusion.]

Pixelshift: “Uh… okay. This definitely wasn’t the cutscene I queued up.”

[He jogs toward the ring, skidding slightly as if momentum doesn’t quite work right.]

Pixelshift: “You’re talking like the game only has one ending.”

[Propaganda turns slowly to face him.]

Propaganda: “You are corrupted code.”

[PixelShift hops onto the apron.]

Pixelshift: “Funny. In my world, corrupted code gets patched.”

[He points to the ring.]

Pixelshift: “You keep saying everyone has to play your way.”

[A beat.]

Pixelshift: “But players like me? We look for exploits.”

[Propaganda steps closer, voice lowering.]

Propaganda: “You think you’re free because you glitch. Freedom isn’t a viable construct inside a video game; it is fallacy.”

[He taps the microphone.]

Propaganda: “You’re still part of the system.”

[PixelShift shrugs.]

Pixelshift: “Maybe.“

[He grins beneath the mask.]

Pixelshift: “But at least I know the difference between a message… and malware. What you’re broadcasting isn’t freedom, it’s forced conscription.”

[The crowd reacts loudly.]

[Propaganda’s smile almost certainly fades.]

Propaganda: “If you believe that to be true, then this will be a lesson and by the end of it, you will believe.”

[He drops the microphone.]

[PixelShift cracks his neck, bouncing lightly on his feet.]

Pixelshift: “Cool.”

[A pause.]

Pixelshift: “Let’s hit start.“

[The bell rings.]

[The bell sounds and both men begin circling one another. Propaganda raises his hands for a lock up, drawing the smaller man in. Pixelshift naively goes for it but quickly gets a knee to the mid-section for his troubles, doubling him over.]

[A right hand follows.]

“OBEY!” [chant a spattering of believers.]

[Another right hand.]

“SUBMIT!”

[Another right hand!]

[NO! Pixelshift snatches his neck. SWINGING NECKBREAKER! Player One pops back to his feet, storming into the ropes as Propaganda likewise gets back up.]

[SHOULDER BARGE!]

[Down goes Pixelshift! The Voice of Obedience demands that he rise and when he does, scoops him straight into an Atomic Drop. ]

[He stumbles…]

[Powerful Clothesline!] 

[Propaganda drops into the cover…]

[One…]

[Two…]

Signal: “Kick out!” 

Black Scar: “Looks like his message ain’t received just yet, Sig.” 

Signal: “No but you bet your behind the signal is about to get stronger.” 

[Propaganda gets back to his feet, carefully stomping at Pixel. He stops at his arms, his legs and then his torso, carefully pinpointing each strike to maximum effect.]

[The countdown hits zero — and the arena lights flicker to a breezy teal glow.]

[The opening beats of Tropico’s theme plays and out strolls El Trópico de Frío, sunglasses on, arms spread wide like he’s greeting the sun itself. He barely seems in a hurry, casually sliding under the bottom rope while Propaganda grinds his boot into PixelShift’s ribs.]

Signal: “Well I’ll be… looks like vacation just arrived, Scar.” 

Black Scar: “Somebody tell him this ain’t a beach.”

[Propaganda turns, eyes narrowing behind his mask.]

[Tropico?]

[He yawns.]

[Throws a lazy thumbs-up.]

“That’s Tropi-cool!”

[Propaganda storms forward—]

[—BUT TROPICO DROPS LOW!]

[BANANA SPLIT! The split-leg dodge trips Propaganda forward, and Tropico springs up with a looping spinning wheel kick! The Voice of Obedience staggers!]

[PixelShift reboots back to life — visor flickering — and joins in with a flurry of chops!]

[Tropico shrugs…]

[…and rolls him up!]

[One!]

[Two—]

[Propaganda BREAKS IT, rage burning.]

[He yanks Tropico up by the mask—]

[CITRUS SMA—NO!]

[Propaganda pushes him backwards, ducks under, leans casually into the ropes…]

[…walks back…]

[…and PALM STRIKE RIGHT TO THE JAW!] 

[CITRUS SMACK CONNECTS!]

[The crowd pops!]

[PixelShift sprints into the ropes — 8-BIT COMBO lighting up the ring!]

“A! B! DOWN! UP!”

[Tropico reels, but here comes Propaganda and now he’s trapped — trapped between two very different storms.]

[Propaganda points to the corner.]

[Pixel nods.]

[They Irish whip him—]

[Tropico crashes into the turnbuckles—]

[Tropico bounces and stumbles out…]

[Slower…]

[Slower…]

[Stops.]

[Shrugs.]

[Then charges with a sudden burst—]

[A VERSION OF THE PINEAPPLE EXPRESS!]

[Running double knees to the chest of Propaganda, taking him down to the canvas!]

Signal: “The believers felt THAT one.” 

Black Scar: “This chill dude’s got fire when he needs it.”

[Propaganda collapses forward—]

[PixelShift climbs the ropes—]

[The arena buzzes…]

[PixelShift steadies himself on the top rope — visor pulsing — ready to dive—]

[But the arena lights cut out.]

[Ba-dump.]

[Ba-dump.]

[A single, cold heartbeat echoes through the darkness.]

Signal: “…oh no.”

Black Scar: “Business is about to get… clinical.”

[A thin white light slices across the stage. Dr. Eric Vinell emerges, flanked by writhing silhouettes — chimeras pacing at his heels. He adjusts his gloves with slow, surgical precision, lifting his scalpel toward the ring like a priest raising a relic.]

“The Doctor is in.”

[Pixel hesitates on the rope.]

[Wrong choice.]

[Vinell slides under the bottom rope — unseen — and SHOVES Pixel’s leg out from under him! The Neon Player One crashes throat-first across the turnbuckle and tumbles to the mat clutching his neck.]

[The Good Doctor smiles.]

[He turns…]

[…and SCRAPES a charging Tropico’s face across the top rope!]

[Cold. Methodical. Contemptuous.]

[He backs Tropico into the corner—]

[STERILIZATION!]

[Boot scrape.]

[Another.]

[Another — each one sharper, crueler.]

Signal: “He’s not wrestling. He’s… dissecting.”

[Propaganda drags himself upright — fury still burning — but Vinell calmly reaches into his coat—]

[A small vial.]

[He snaps it open.]

[OCULAR ASSAULT!]

[A white chemical spray BLASTS into Propaganda’s eyes!]

[The Voice of Obedience howls, clutching his face, stumbling blindly along the ropes.]

Black Scar: “That ain’t right! That ain’t RIGHT! I LOVE IT!”

[Vinell doesn’t pursue. He simply tilts his head… amused.]

[He turns back to Tropico — hooks the leg — wrenches him—]

[QUANTUM MECHANICS!]

[Stretch muffler locked in deep, Tropico twisted into a horrible angle!]

[The chill showman can’t even play it off — pain ripping through his leg as Vinell leans back with surgical grace.]

Signal: “He’s not trying to win — he’s testing pain thresholds!”

[Vinell begins to laugh…]

[Cold.]

[Clinical.]

[Satisfied with his work…]

[The countdown clock appears again.]

[The next experiment approaches.]

[Tropico claws at the mat — the stretch muffler bending his leg at a terrible angle — Vinell leaning back with cold fascination as Tropico’s hand hovers… trembling…]

[The countdown hits zero.]

[A trumpet blast.]

[Then a record scratch.]

Signal: “…what in the—?”

[Out stumbles Stúpido — mask clearly a repurposed grocery bag, socks hanging outside his boots, one shoelace already untied. He waves proudly to the crowd—]

[—and immediately trips over his own foot halfway down the ramp.]

Black Scar: “Oh lord, someone check the footing.”

[He pops back up — arms wide — as if nothing happened.]

“LUCHA!” [he shouts.]

[Nobody asked.]

[He sprints toward the ring—]

[Slips again.]

[Slides under the bottom rope completely by accident—]

[—and CRASHES SHOULDER-FIRST into Vinell’s planted leg!]

[The impact jolts The Good Doctor off balance — not out of intent — just pure chaotic misfortune. The hold breaks and Tropico spills free, clutching his knee.]

[Vinell rises slowly.]

[His eyes twitch.]

[He adjusts his gloves.]

[Stúpido, oblivious, points proudly to himself.]

[Then points to Vinell.]

[Then… to the top rope.]

Signal: “Oh no. Oh NO.”

[He climbs. Vinell just watches.]

[Wobbles.]

[Nearly falls.]

[He steadies…]

[He LEAPS—]

[THE STUPIDEST MOONSAU—]

[NOPE!]

[ERIC VINELL JUST WALKS AWAY!]

[And Stupido instead falls straight down onto PixelShift by complete accident, landing in a heap across his chest.]

[The referee slides in—]

[One!]

[Two!]

[PixelShift JUST kicks out — survival by instinct alone.]

Black Scar: “Luck’s a weapon tonight, Sig!”

[Stúpido pops up and celebrates like he meant it.]

[Vinell steps in behind him…]

[…and slowly reaches for his jaw—]

[The Doctor has found a new test subject.]

[The countdown clock appears once more.]

[Backstage, the hum of The Temple’s distant crowd seeps through concrete walls like a storm contained behind steel. Two masked figures stand beneath that pale glare — one towering, scarred, and wrapped in the battered armor of a world not yet born; the other lean, twitch-wired, restless — a predator’s curiosity burning behind his mask.]

[Roughkut grips a microphone like a weapon he’s impatient to use. His mask is cracked and jagged, his posture forward, hungry for chaos.]

[He leans toward the brute beside him.]

Roughkut: “Warlord Mars,” [He says, breath sharp with excitement.] “People back here are talking — saying you’re unhinged, saying you’re insane. They’re wondering whether a man from a dead future belongs in a place like The Temple. So tell them… tell the roster watching right now why they should be afraid of you.”

[Mars breathes like a war engine, shoulders rolling beneath his ragged pauldrons. When he speaks, his voice grinds out like metal dragged across stone — bitter, confident, thunderous.]

Warlord Mars: “Afraid?” [he snarls.] “They don’t know fear. Where I come from, the sky burns and the ground bites back. Every sunrise is a funeral. Every breath is a debt. I’ve lived my life besieged by hostile forces — mutants, raiders, traitors… men I once trusted.”

[His masked head tilts, eyes cold — ancient and wounded.]

Warlord Mars: “I am the last survivor of a world that died screaming. I know war the way other men know love. Tonight… in that ring… I’ll be the only soul here who understands what true war is and believe me when I tell ya…”

[His fist tightens.]

Warlord Mars: “This… is… WAAARRR.”

[Silence follows — sharp, brittle. Then, a new presence steps into frame like a shadow slipping through a doorway.]

[Santiago Siniestro moves without sound.]

[His mask is smooth and silent — his stance coiled, dangerous. When he speaks, his voice is soft, measured… lethal.]

Santiago Siniestro: “Cuidado, amigo,” [he murmurs.] “Be careful.”

[He switches, his words echoing in English — each phrase like a knife slipped beneath ribs.]

Santiago Siniestro: “You say you know war… but you think war only lives in fire and noise.”

[He leans closer, almost whispering.]

Santiago Siniestro: “Men like me… we fight where silence feels safe. We kill between heartbeats. We are the war you never see coming.”

[The two warriors step forward.]

[Nose to nose.]

[Breath to breath.]

[No movement.]

[Just promise.]

[Roughkut swallows the tension like smoke and snaps back to professionalism — voice tight, urgent, alive.]

Roughkut: “And with that — we head to the loading bay.”

[The lights near the loading bay flicker. A low, mechanical rumble rolls through the concrete corridors — not loud, but deep enough to be felt in the chest.]

[The sound grows closer.]

[Headlights cut through the haze.]

[Mr. Grimm arrives astride the Pale Rider — a hulking motorcycle of black iron and bone. He is flanked by The Grimm Riders, silent figures riding in perfect formation, engines snarling like beasts restrained.]

[They stop.]

[The engines cut.]

[One by one, the Grimm Riders begin to fade — their shapes breaking apart like smoke in moonlight — until nothing remains but empty air.]

[Mr. Grimm dismounts.]

[He does not look back at the bike. He simply walks forward… and vanishes into shadow.]

[From behind a stack of production crates, The Lost Boy peers out.]

[He watches the now-empty loading bay, eyes fixed on the Pale Rider.]

[After a moment, curiosity wins.]

[He creeps forward, glancing over his shoulder, then swings a leg over the bike and grips the handlebars.]

The Lost Boy: “Vrrrm… vrrrmmm.”

[He rocks side to side, mimicking the throttle, fully committed.]

The Lost Boy: “This could be one heck of a ride on the open road. Maybe I should try and take it for a little spin?”

[A voice speaks beside him. Calm. Flat. Certain.]

Mr Grimm: “You shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you. Now the Pale Rider has the scent of your soul and you should know, dear boy, you can’t outrun the Reaper.”

[The Lost Boy freezes.]

[He slowly turns his masked head.]

[Mr. Grimm is standing right next to him — impossibly close — skull helm inches away.]

Mr Grimm: “Death comes for us all.”

[The Lost Boy lets out a sharp yelp.]

[He scrambles off the bike, trips, catches himself, and bolts down the corridor at full speed.]

[The sound of his footsteps echoes… then fades.]

[Mr. Grimm watches him go.]

[He turns back to the Pale Rider, places one gloved hand on the handlebar, and tilts his skull helm ever so slightly.]

[The engine rumbles back to life.]

Signal: “I don’t blame him. If Death showed up next to me like that, I’d still be running.”

Black Scar: “Running just makes it funnier. The Lost Boy better do a good job at getting lost before the Reaper takes his soul for the long ride.”

[Back in the ring, the chaos has only grown nastier.]

[PixelShift crawls along the mat, still shaken from the mistimed impact earlier. Tropico limps on one leg, clutching his knee after the sustained torture from Vinell. The Good Doctor looms over him, calmly re-tightening his gloves — clinical. Calculated. He reaches down and clamps Tropico’s leg again… twisting… probing for weakness.]

Signal: “He’s going right back to the experiment.” 

Black Scar: “He smelled damage and he ain’t letting go.”

[Across the ring, Stúpido tries to help PixelShift to his feet…]

[…and somehow trips over his own sock.]

[Both men collapse again.]

[Vinell allows himself a faint smile.]

[Then—]

[The lights die.]

[A cold fog rolls across ringside.]

[The distant rev of an engine rattles the walls.]

Signal: “…oh no.” 

Black Scar: “Death just clocked in.”

[“Ride With Mr. Grimm” rips through the arena as a motorcycle pierces the mist. Wisps of spectral vapor trail from the rider’s shoulders as Mr. Grimm circles the ring — silent. Inevitable. He parks beside the steps and ascends, each movement deliberate, like judgment given form.]

[PixelShift rises.]

[Wrong man.]

[SOUL HARVESTER — FROM HELL!]

[A thunderous clothesline nearly turns Pixel inside-out. He folds to the mat in a heap.]

[Vinell releases Tropico and tries to rush away—]

[Grimm’s hand clamps around his throat.]

[TO THE GRAVE!]

[Chokeslam. The mat trembles.]

[Stúpido charges wildly—]

[Grimm does not move.]

[DEATH’S DOOR!]

[A skull-cracking headbutt drops him flat.]

[The Pale Rider kneels behind PixelShift…]

[…and wrenches back into a brutal COLD EMBRACE — camel clutch locked tight, Grimm’s faceless presence looming over him like the end of all things.]

Signal: “You can’t outrun the Reaper…” 

Black Scar: “…and tonight, he’s collecting.”

[The countdown begins again, but will Pixelshift tap?]

[Grimm wrenches back on the Cold Embrace, PixelShift fading in his grasp… Tropico crawls along the mat… Vinell circles with predatory curiosity…]

[And then—]

[The arena is consumed in blinding white light.]

[A holy chorus swells.]

Signal: “The temple… has opened.” 

Black Scar: “And judgment’s coming from a different kind of power.”

[The riff of “Lightkeeper” strikes — golden beams erupting skyward as a figure steps from radiance itself.]

[Lux Bellator II descends from the light like a crusader from beyond time, landing in a three-point prayer stance.]

[He rises.]

[Arms outstretched in crucifix form.]

“Lumen Accipe.”

[The Light Warrior charges the ring — slides under the ropes — and stands tall amid chaos.]

[Grimm slowly releases PixelShift and rises to meet him.]

[The two specters of destiny lock eyes.]

[The Reaper.]

[The Lightbringer.]

[The air hangs heavy.]

[But Bellator does not strike… not yet.]

[Because at his feet lies Stúpido — dazed, wobbling back to his knees after Grimm’s headbutt… unaware of his peril.]

[Bellator gazes down — somber — as if delivering mercy.]

[He hooks Stúpido’s arms—]

[TRIBULATION!]

[Jumping Reverse STO PLANTS him face-first into the mat.]

[Bellator does not hesitate.]

[He drags Stúpido upward again — lifts — charges forward—]

[INTO THE ABYSS!]

[Running Release Crucifix Powerbomb!]

[STRAIGHT INTO A MASSIVE FUCKING MID-AIR BIG BOOT BY MR. GRIMM! THAT ALMOST TOOK HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF!]

[Bellator drops into the pin.]

[ONE!]

[TWO!]

[THREE!]

Signal: “Stúpido’s luck just ran out!” 

Black Scar: “He’s been… absolved from this one.”

Miss Marquee: El Rey Del Stupido has been ELIMINATED!

[The Light Warrior rises, breathing with conviction — arms spreading wide once more beneath the shining beam.]

[Grimm steps closer… the ring trembling under two forces of inevitability.]

[The countdown clock returns… and the war continues.]

[The arena hums with tension — The Pale Rider and The Light Warrior standing inches apart, destiny versus deliverance.]

[PixelShift crawls for sanctuary.]

[Tropico clutches his knee.]

[Vinell now stands on the outside, watching.]

[And then the lights turn molten orange.]

[Flashes burst like artillery fire.]

[The sound of marching brass — heavy, iron, inevitable — shakes the Temple to its core.]

Signal: “What… what is this?” 

Black Scar: “Feels like a war zone out here. That can only mean one man.”

[Dry ice pours across the entranceway like smoke from a crater.]

[Through the haze marches a towering, scarred juggernaut — cape torn, armor-trimmed gear rattling, face etched by a thousand battlefields.]

[WARLORD MARS has arrived.]

[He stops at the top of the ramp… spreads his arms… and bellows to the heavens:]

“THIS… IS… WAAAAAAR!!!”

[He storms to the ring — every step a declaration of doom.]

[PixelShift staggers up—]

[SHORT-ARM CLOTHESLINE! Pixel flips inside-out like shrapnel in a blast zone.]

[Tropico limps toward the ropes—]

[MILITARY PRESS! Mars hoists him overhead with terrifying ease… and THROWS HIM out of the ring onto Dr. Vinell!]

Signal: “Good LORD — he just launched him like a missile!”

[Grimm steps forward — unflinching.[Mars grins beneath the mask — scarred, bitter amusement — and whips him straight into the corner. He runs, heavy footed, thunderous… AND SLAMS into him with a corner splash that rocks the ring.]

[Lux Bellator charges from behind—]

[Mars whirls—]

[WARHEAD!]

[A brutal KO headbutt that echoes like steel on skull.]

[Bellator drops to one knee — stunned — conviction rattled.]

[Mars beats his chest — roaring to the rafters — a one-man apocalypse declaring dominance.]

Black Scar: “He ain’t here to survive…” 

Signal: “…he’s here to conquer.”

[The battlefield shifts.]

[Backstage, the corridors of The Temple hum with uneasy silence — broken only by the faint echo of distant cheers and the hollow rattle of a metal collection plate.]

[A masked figure in Preacher garb moves through the shadows like a Specter. Reverend Blackheart’s gloved hand grips the plate with grim devotion, his head bowed, his voice a dark hymn beneath his breath.]

Reverend Blackheart: “Many are called… few are chosen… I am both.”

[He stops beside a slumped stagehand, too exhausted to stand. The collection plate hovers before him like a threat. Coins clink. A trembling nod follows. Blackheart walks on.]

[He finds another worker. Another offering. No one dares refuse.]

[Then he turns a corner — and freezes.]

[Nigel Powers is leaned against the wall, mask tilted at a rakish angle, surrounded by two beautiful women that aren’t staff, laughing, gesturing grandly, arms spread like he’s narrating his own legend.]

Nigel Powers: “The name is Powers — Nigel Pow—”

[The women scatter the instant Blackheart steps forward, his voice erupting like wrath from a pulpit.]

Reverend Blackheart: “YOU WALK IN SIN! YOU WALK IN TEMPTATION! REPENT, OR BURN IN THE RIVERS OF JUDGMENT!”

[The corridor shakes with his fury. Nigel blinks.]

Nigel Powers: “Whoa, whoa — easy there, padre. Groovy vibes only, yeah? Let’s all just… chill.”

[Blackheart slams him against the wall, forearm across his chest. The collection plate rises beneath Nigel’s chin like a condemned altar.]

Reverend Blackheart: “I will make you… my martyr.”

[Nigel swallows. Very slowly… he empties his pockets into the plate. With that, he’s quickly released. He straightens his jacket and makes a hasty retreat, running away.]

[Blackheart lifts the plate — and stares.]

[Two small blue Viagra tablets.]

[A British fifty-pence coin.]

[A piece of bubble gum.]

[Silence.]

[Then his fist trembles. His shoulders quake. Rage burns like scripture catching fire.]

[At the far end of the hallway, Nigel peeks back around the corner and throws a jaunty salute.]

Nigel Powers: “Keep the change, baby! Oh — behave!”

[He vanishes.]

[Blackheart’s roar follows him like a curse.]

[The lights flicker. The plate rings. The corridor trembles.]

Signal: “Well… that may be the first time a collection plate caused a near-death experience.” 

Black Scar: “If Powers survives tonight, it’ll be a miracle. And miracles,” [long pause] “cost extra.”

[The lights inside The Temple dim to a sickly, crawling glow.]

[A low chant rises from the entranceway — wordless, unified, unsettling.]

[Padre del Le Venganza steps through the curtain, masked and robed, surrounded by cult members moving in lockstep. They spill down the ramp like a tide, hands raised, heads bowed, circling the ring as if consecrating it.]

[Padre ascends the steps and enters the ring. A microphone is placed in his hand by one of the faithful.]

Padre Del La Venganza: “OSW… you feel it, don’t you?”

[The cult hushes at once.]

Padre Del La Venganza: “The Family is here. We do not conquer with armies. We do not rule with crowns.”

[He spreads his arms.]

Padre Del La Venganza: “We consume. Like a virus. Quiet. Patient. Inevitable.”

[Boos rain down from the crowd.]

Padre Del La Venganza: “Do not be afraid. There is freedom in surrender. Freedom from pain. From doubt. From struggle.”

[A slow, pleased nod.]

Padre Del La Venganza: “Take the Father’s hand… and I will welcome you to the Family.“

[Suddenly—]

[Lux Bellator vaults over the top rope into the ring.]

[He rips the microphone from Padre’s hand.]

[The crowd erupts.]

Lux Bellator: “No.”

[The cult recoils slightly, uncertain.]

Lux Bellator: “You talk like you’re something new.”

[He steps closer, chest to chest.]

Lux Bellator: “I’ve seen men like you before. My order has watched them become dangerous. They’ve played their part..”

[Padre tilts his head, amused.]

Lux Bellator: “But I am not my predecessor.”

[A beat.]

Lux Bellator: “And I won’t stand by while you infect this place.”

[He raises the microphone.]

Lux Bellator: “Lumen accipe.“

[The cult attacks.]

[They swarm Lux Bellator from all sides, dragging him down in a mass of grasping hands and robes.]

[Lux fights back wildly — elbows, boots, desperation — but the numbers overwhelm him.]

[Padre del Le Venganza watches calmly, hands folded.]

Padre Del La Venganza: “Every light burns out eventually.”

[The cult stands tall over Lux’s fallen body.]

[They raise their arms as one.]

Padre Del La Venganza: “Welcome to the Family.”

Signal: “This isn’t chaos… this is coordination. Padre is surely about to eliminate Bellator as his followers make a hasty exit.”

Black Scar: “That’s how takeovers start.. with a one… two… three.”

[CLOTHESLINE FROM HELL OVER THE TOP ROPE! PADRE JUST GOT SEND THUNDEROUSLY OVER THE TOP ROPE BY MR. GRIMM!]

[PixelShift meanwhile snaps to his feet — visor flickering — trading sharp, rapid-fire shots with El Trópico de Frío in the center of the ring. Tropico swings lazy… misses… then suddenly bursts forward with a sharp CITRUS SMACK, rocking Player One backward — but PixelShift rebounds off the ropes with a desperate knee strike of his own!]

Signal: “Pixel’s rebooted — he’s running on pure instinct!”

[Tropico staggers—]

[Pixel ducks low—]

[HARD RESET! JUMPING CODEBREAKER! NAILED IT! But Pixelshift can’t capitolise. He’s too hurt.]

[Outside the ring — it’s anything but clumsy.]

[Dr. Vinell claws at Warlord Mars’ arm, wrenching tendons with targeted precision — Quantum-like torque applied in brutal bursts — but Mars powers through, grabbing the Good Doctor by the coat—]

[SIDEWALK SLAM ONTO THE FLOOR!]

Black Scar: “That concrete just became a battlefield!”

[Vinell rolls away… laughing. He sits up slowly… and calmly begins pulling on a fresh pair of gloves.]

[Mars rolls back to his feet angrily. He slaps the barricade enraged and snarls — marching toward him—]

[Then—]

[The Temple lights dim.]

[The chaos in the ring slows — not by choice, but by instinct.]

[Stars ripple across the ceiling, constellations wheeling overhead as a heroic orchestral swell fills the air.]

Signal: “…why do I feel like I’m about to watch a Saturday morning cartoon?”

Black Scar: “Hey — sometimes heroes show up when you least expect ‘em.”

[A column of radiant starlight crashes onto the stage.]

[When the full band begins to play, the doors connecting the backstage area and the arena open, making the crowd part and revealing Ace Starshield and Benny Porter to the crowd. The Galactic Savior remains stoic as he marches toward the ring, while Benny runs around the vicinity, high fiving the fans as his hero makes his way to the ring.]

Ace Starshield: “With the stars as our shield, nothing can stand in our way.”

[Ace charges the ring.]

[He slides under the ropes and rises to his full height, immediately surveying the battlefield.]

[That threat is Padre Del La Venganza.]

[Padre turns slowly, smiling warmly, arms opening in invitation.]

[Ace surges forward.]

[THRUSTERS ENGAGED!]

[The Shoryuken uppercut snaps Padre’s head back, staggering the cult leader into the ropes.]

[Ace presses the advantage.]

[CRASH LANDING!]

[The fireman’s carry thrust spinebuster shakes the canvas.]

[PixelShift crawls toward the ropes, clutching his ribs.]

[El Trópico de Frío limps in, attempting to steal a lazy roll-up.]

[Ace turns.]

[He hooks Tropico.]

[SET MATCH TO VICTORY!]

[The sit-out Last Ride powerbomb drives Tropico flat into the mat.]

[Ace stacks him up.]

Black Scar: “That’s it! Tropico’s been grounded!”

[The referee counts.]

[One!]

[Two!

[Three!]

[ELIMINATION — EL TRÓPICO DE FRÍO]

Miss Marquee: El Tropic De Frio has been eliminated!

[Ace rises, chest heaving, standing tall amid the wreckage.]

[Behind him, Padre Del La Venganza sits up.]

[He laughs softly.]

Black Scar: “Yeah… the storybook ending’s gonna have some blood on it.”

[The countdown clock returns.]

[The Temple lights fall to black.]

[The noise dies with them.]

[A low synth organ hums through the arena as smoke spills across the entranceway, thick and suffocating.]

Signal: “…this place just got real quiet.”

Black Scar: “That’s reverence, Sig. Even monsters know when to bow.”

[The music builds. Slow. Oppressive.]

[Then the electric guitar hits.]

[Lightning-like flashes tear through the smoke as a massive silhouette cuts forward.]

[THE REVEREND JEDIDIAH BLACKHEART emerges.]

[Six-foot-ten of corruption marches with purpose, eyes cold, jaw set, every step deliberate.]

[He reaches the ring.]

[Blackheart grabs the top rope, hauls his enormous frame onto the apron, then steps cleanly over the ropes.]

[He moves to the center.]

[Arms extend outward in a crucifix pose.]

[Fire ERUPTS behind him.]

Black Scar: “Now THAT is a man who understands power.”

[Mr. Grimm turns first.]

[The Pale Rider steps forward.]

[Blackheart meets him head-on.]

[They collide in the center with a brutal exchange of forearms.]

[Blackheart wins it.]

[GOD’S FOOT!]

[The running big boot caves Grimm’s chest in, knocking the Reaper backward into the ropes.]

[Lux Bellator charges in from the side.]

[BLACKHEART CATCHES HIM.]

[BURY YOUR DEAD!]

[The Blackhole Slam crushes Bellator into the mat.]

Signal: “He just folded the Light Warrior in half!”

[Padre Del La Venganza rises behind Blackheart, arms opening in false welcome.]

[Blackheart turns.]

[They lock eyes.]

Black Scar: “Oh I like this. Two false prophets… one pulpit.”

[Padre strikes first.]

[BLACKHEART ABSORBS IT.]

[TAKE UP MY CROSS!]

[The Gory Special lifts Padre off the mat, spine bent, limbs dangling as Blackheart roars.]

[GORY BOMB!]

[BOOM!]

[PixelShift watches from the corner, visor flickering in panic.]

[Outside the ring, Mars and Vinell continue to circle, sensing the shift.]

Signal: “The balance just changed.”

Black Scar: “Yeah. Evil just found its ROOT.”

[The countdown clock begins again.]

[The lights shift just enough to signal an arrival.]

[“Groovy” hits the speakers.]

Signal: “…oh come on.”

Black Scar: “Perfect. Fresh meat with a soundtrack.”

[Nigel Powers steps through the fog, flanked briefly by two women.]

[Nigel grins, finger-guns the camera, and jogs toward the ring.]

[He slides under the bottom rope and strikes a pose.]

“Yeah, baby.”

[Reverend Jedidiah Blackheart turns slowly.]

[The smile is gone.]

[Blackheart charges.]

[GOD’S FOOT.]

[The running big boot snaps Nigel inside out, dropping him hard.]

Signal: “Powers didn’t even see it coming!”

[Blackheart drags Nigel up and slams him chest-first into the corner.]

[STIGMATA.]

[Boots grind in, each stomp deliberate.]

Black Scar: “This is what happens when ego walks into faith.”

[Nigel swings wildly — lucky shot catches Blackheart on the jaw.]

[Nigel fires up, feeding off it.]

[SWINGING SIXTIES.]

[The swinging neckbreaker rattles Blackheart, sending him to the canvas, but somehow he’s immediately back up to a knee.]

Signal: “He caught him!”

[Blackheart rises immediately.]

[He grabs Nigel by the throat.]

[TAKE UP MY CROSS.]

[Nigel is hauled into the Gory Special, spine bent, arms flailing.]

[Ace Starshield rushes in from behind, desperate.]

Signal: “What’s he thinking?!”

[BLACKHEART DROPS BACK SLIGHTLY.]

[BURY YOUR DEAD.]

[The Blackhole Slam plants Ace Starshield violently into the mat.]

[Blackheart never releases Nigel and slams him into the canvas as well.]

[He shoves Powers aside like discarded trash.]

[Blackheart covers Ace.]

[One.]

[Two.]

[Three.]

[ELIMINATION — ACE STARSHIELD.]

Miss Marquee: Ace Starshield has been eliminated!

[Blackheart rises, chest heaving.]

[He looks back down at Nigel.]

[Thumb drags slowly across his throat.]

Black Scar: “See? He didn’t even matter.”

[Nigel rolls away, shaken but alive.]

[The war rages on.]

[Backstage, a controlled interview area is set up. Bright lights. Minimal clutter.]

[Cleantake stands centre-frame, calm and composed. Dr. Cube stands beside him, unmoving, mask angled slightly downward as if studying the floor.]

Cleantake: “Dr. Cube, OSW is full of uncertainty tonight. You’ve made a reputation as someone who enjoys forcing others into your… games. What should the roster expect?”

[Dr. Cube slowly lifts his head.]

Dr. Cube: “Expectation is the first trap.” [A pause.] “But I’ll ask the same question I ask everyone.”

[He turns slightly toward the camera.]

Dr. Cube: “Do you want to play a game?”

[Cleantake keeps his expression neutral.]

Cleantake: “And if they don’t?”

[Dr. Cube’s shoulders rise in a subtle shrug.]

Dr. Cube: “Everyone plays eventually.”

[A calm voice cuts in from off-screen.]

Edward Newton: “That’s a charming illusion.”

[Edward Newton steps into frame, hands clasped behind his back, posture perfect.]

Edward Newton: “But games require structure. Logic. Precision.” [He looks directly at Dr. Cube.] “And OSW only has room for one mind capable of that.”

[Dr. Cube turns slowly, studying Newton like a new toy.]

Dr. Cube: “You think intelligence makes you special.”

Edward Newton: “No.” [A beat.] “I think it makes me correct.”

[Dr. Cube takes a small step closer.]

Dr. Cube: “You’re confusing answers with control.”

Edward Newton: “And you’re confusing chaos with depth.”

[The air tightens.]

Dr. Cube: “You don’t want this to become a war, Mr. Newton.”

[Newton tilts his head, curious.]

Edward Newton: “Why?”

Dr. Cube: “Because wars require rules.” [A pause.] “And the Game Master’s design will remain.”

[Newton’s tone stays calm, almost amused.]

Edward Newton: “Every riddle is a question – a set of rules that must be followed to reach a conclusion.” [A step closer.] “And I’m just the answer you didn’t want.“

[Dr. Cube straightens, delighted.]

Dr. Cube: “Good.”

[A final beat.]

Dr. Cube: “Then let the games begin.”

[Cleantake subtly steps back, sensing the danger.]

Cleantake: “Let’s send it back to ringside.”

[The lights flicker to green, white, and red.]

[Trumpets blast briefly through the Temple before cutting to darkness.]

Signal: “That music… that’s not celebratory.”

Black Scar: “That’s a funeral march, Sig.”

[A single spotlight snaps on.]

[SANTIAGO SINIESTRO stands motionless at the top of the ramp.]

[Cold. Still. Unblinking.]

[Santiago raises both hands — double pistols.]

[Squeezes the triggers.]

[Sicario del Ring kicks in as he walks with purpose toward the ring.]

[Santiago slides under the ropes and rises slowly.]

[Padre Del La Venganza turns first.]

[They rush each other.]

[FOREARMS crack in the center of the ring.]

[Neither man gives ground.]

Signal: “Two predators colliding!”

[Santiago snaps a sharp kick to Padre’s knee.]

[Another to the ribs.]

[Padre answers with a thrusting uppercut to the jaw]

[Mr. Grimm steps in.]

[MEMORIAL SERVICE.]

[German suplex plants Santiago hard.]

[Grimm gets back to his feet—]

[BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA FROM PADRE.]

[The leaping sidekick rocks Grimm into the ropes.]

[Across the ring, PixelShift drags himself upright.]

[He leaps onto Padre’s back, trying to pull him down.]

Black Scar: “Bad idea, glitch.”

[Padre throws him off like dead weight.]

[Santiago explodes back into motion.]

[HERMOSO RUIDO.]

[Frogsplash crashes onto Pixel’s chest.]

Signal: “That was surgical!”

[Santiago rolls off and grabs the leg.]

[TEQUILA SUNRISE.]

[The submission cinches tight.]

[Pixel snarls, clawing toward the ropes.]

[Before he can reach—]

[WARLORD MARS storms in.]

[RUNNING BODY SMASH wipes Santiago out.]

[Dr. Vinell quickly rolls back into the ring and springs back onto Mars.]

[He rakes at the eyes and slips behind.]

[BACK BODY DROP!]

[Mars bellows, slamming into the canvas.]

[Lux Bellator charges into the fray.]

[TRIBULATION drops Grimm!]

Signal: “Everything’s breaking loose!”

[Santiago rises again.]

[Double pistol gesture.]

[Throat cut.]

[The cold has arrived.]

[The countdown clock reappears.]

[Upbeat music cuts through the violence.]

Signal: “…wait—what?”

Black Scar: “Oh you have GOT to be kidding me.”

[ZIGGY ROBBINS jogs out, waving enthusiastically, slapping hands as he goes. He slides into the ring, pops up, and eagerly shakes the referee’s hand.]

Ziggy Robbins: “You can’t have a rainbow without the rain!”

[Ziggy turns and offers a handshake to the nearest competitor.]

[That happens to be Warlord Mars.]

[The size difference is absurd.]

[Mars looks down at him.]

Black Scar: “Say goodbye, little sunshine.”

[Mars swings.]

[Ziggy ducks.]

[KEEP YOUR HEAD UP!]

[The drop-down punch catches Mars in the jaw.]

Signal: “He got him!”

[Ziggy claps rapidly as he gets back to his feet]

[ROOTING FOR YOU!]

[EARCLAP! EARCLAP! EARCLAP!]

Ziggy Robbins: “C’mon big guy! You got this!”

[Mars snarls and charges.]

[Ziggy rolls through the legs and springs up behind, running into the ropes.]

[TURN YOUR LIFE AROUND.]

[Slingblade sends Mars crashing to the canvas.]

[Across the ring, Santiago Siniestro squares up with Lux Bellator.]

[They trade stiff strikes.]

[BLUNT FOREARM by Santiago. Bellator blocks and shoves him away. Mr. Grimm steps in.]

[LAST RITES.]

[Butterfly brainbuster drops Santiago hard.]

[Padre Del La Venganza rushes Bellator from behind.]

[MIDNIGHT SHADOW.]

[STO into snap DDT snaps Grimm down.]

Signal: “The ring’s a warzone!”

[Ziggy climbs the ropes, pointing to Mars.]

[USE THIS FOR MOTIVATION!]

Ziggy Robbins: “GET UP! YOU’RE DOING GREAT!”

[Mars hauls himself up, confused and furious.]

[Ziggy launches.]

[MISSILE DROPKICK.]

[SWATTED OUT OF THE FUCKING SKY LIKE A FLY!]

[Mars stumbles backward into the ropes. Dr. Vinell meanwhile slithers back into the action, eyes locked on Ziggy.]

[He reaches as Zig gets back to his feet.]

[Ziggy spins—]

[ALWAYS A CHANCE.]

[Small package out of nowhere!]

Signal: “No way—!”

[Vinell kicks out immediately and laughs.]

[Ziggy scrambles away, grinning, giving a thumbs-up.]

Ziggy Robbins: “Nice escape!”

Black Scar: “I hate him.”

[Ziggy stands tall for a moment amid monsters.]

[Then everyone notices him.]

[The countdown clock appears again.]

[Galactic Champion hits.]

[The lights brighten, starlike patterns dancing across the Temple.]

Signal: “Listen to this place!”

Black Scar: “Yeah yeah. Another flyer. Gravity’s undefeated.”

[COMETA IV bursts through the curtain at a sprint.]

[He slides belly-first under the bottom rope and snaps up into a perfect kip-up.]

[He points to the sky, spinning a finger.]

Cometa IV: “¡A las estrellas!”

[He doesn’t pose long.]

[He launches immediately.]

[SPACEMAN PLANCHA over the top rope! He wipes out The Reverend, Pixelshift and Nigel Powers who were brawling on the otuside.]

[Cometa quickly runs, leaping onto the barricade and dives, wiping out Dr. Vinell as he exited the ring to meet him, sending the Doctor tumbling.]

[Inside the ring, Santiago Siniestro turns just in time—]

[DIVING HURRICANRANA.]

[Santiago flips hard to the mat.]

Signal: “Ziggy Robbins flying at light speed!”

[Warlord Mars charges.]

[Cometa, now on the rope!]

[METEORA to Mars!]

[Double knees crack Mars in the chest, staggering the giant before tumbling him over to the canvas. Cometa rolls away]

Black Scar: “Cute. Now run.”

[Mr. Grimm steps in.]

[NATURAL CAUSES—NO.]

[Cometa cartwheels away and snaps back.]

[DROP TOEHOLD!]

[DOWN GOES MR. GRIMM! COMETA RUSHES UP THE ROPES…]

[MOONSTOMP! MOONSAULT INTO DOUBLE FOOTED STOMP!]

 [Grimm gets crushed.]

[Lux Bellator surges forward.]

[TRIBULATION attempt—]

[NAILED IT! DOWN GOES COMETA!]

Signal: “He stopped that momentum dead!”

[Bellator rolls through. Padre Del La Venganza grabs him from behind. MIDIGHT JUSTICE attempt— LUX BELLATOR SPINS FREE.]

[ROLL UP attempt!]

[PADRE KICKS OUT IMMEDIATELY!]

[Across the ring, Ziggy Robbins claps enthusiastically.]

Ziggy Robbins: “You’re doing amazing! Keep going!”

Black Scar: “Somebody muzzle him.”

[PixelShift drags himself up and springboards.]

[8 BIT COMBO onto Santiago.]

[Cometa though is back to his feet and climbs the ropes again. Finger spins.]

Signal: “He’s thinking Spiral Galaxy—”

[Mars grabs the ropes and shakes them violently.]

[Cometa crashes awkwardly to the mat, rolling through.]

[He pops up anyway.]

[Points to the stars again.]

[The Cosmic Wind is here and this fight is far from over.]

[The countdown clock begins.]

[The music cuts to something low and predatory.]

[The Temple quiets—not in awe, but instinct.]

Signal: “You feel that?”

Black Scar: “Yeah. That’s a hunter stepping into the brush.”

[ARANZA emerges through the entrance, eyes locked forward.]

[No pose. No acknowledgement.]

[She stalks to the ring, removes her headdress and pelt at ringside, then springs onto the apron.]

[Her eyes immediately find Cometa IV.]

[Legacy meets predator.]

[Cometa steps forward.]

[They circle.]

[Cometa strikes first—sharp kick to the thigh.]

[Aranza absorbs it.]

[CATCH & RELEASE.]

[Fish hook ripcord into a rolling elbow snaps Cometa’s head sideways.]

Signal: “That was CLEAN.”

[Cometa rebounds—]

[LEAPING METEORA—NO.]

[Aranza catches him!]

[SIT-OUT POWERBOMB IN ONE SWIFT MOTION!]

[Across the ring, Santiago Siniestro trades blows with Lux Bellator.]

[FOREARM by Santiago.]

[BELLATOR ANSWERS WITH A CLUBBING STRIKE.]

[Mr. Grimm barrels into Padre Del La Venganza.]

[FOREARMS fly.]

[Padre laughs through the punishment.]

Black Scar: “Look at them. Beautiful.”

[Aranza drags Cometa out of the corner.]

[EL GARROTE.]

[She lifts him inverted—spins—drops into the guillotine choke.]

[Cometa struggles, boots kicking.]

Signal: “She’s cutting off the air!”

[Ziggy Robbins rushes over, clapping loudly.]

Ziggy Robbins: “You’ve got this! Don’t quit!”

Black Scar: “He’s gonna get eaten one day.”

[Aranza releases the hold and rises angrily.]

[Warlord Mars storms through, scattering bodies.]

[SHORT-ARM LARIAT drops Santiago.]

[Dr. Vinell circles on the outside, watching Aranza with interest.]

[PixelShift pulls himself up in the corner, visor flickering.]

[Aranza turns slowly, surveying the field.]

[She smiles—for the first time.]

[The hunt has begun.]

[Backstage, a narrow hallway leads to a small, makeshift office.]

[The door bears a hand-painted sign: “THE BLACKHAND CLUB.”]

[Inside, a folding table sits beneath a hanging bulb. Cards are spread out. Chips are stacked. Smoke hangs in the air.]

[Blackhand Moretti stands behind the table, arms folded, watching without expression.]

[Seated are El Tropico de Frio and El Rey del Stupido, both masked, both mid-game.]

El Tropico de Frio: “I’m tellin’ you, dude… I’m feelin’ lucky.”

[He lazily tosses a few chips into the middle.]

El Tropico de Frio: “That’s Tropi-cool.”

El Rey Del Stupido: “You can’t feel lucky. Luck happens.”

[He squints at his cards.]

El Rey Del Stupido: “Also… are these the good cards or the bad ones?”

[Moretti exhales through his nose, unimpressed.]

[The door opens.]

[Academius steps in, straight-backed, hands clasped behind him.]

Academius: “Gentlemen. Gambling without structure is a poor habit.”

[He looks at the table.]

Academius: “Deal me in.”

[Moretti doesn’t move.]

Blackhand Moretti: “No.”

[A beat.]

Academius: “Excuse me?”

Blackhand Moretti: “This table ain’t a classroom.” [He leans forward slightly.] “And you? You weren’t invited.”

[Academius tightens his jaw.]

Academius: “You’re refusing a learning opportunity.”

Blackhand Moretti: “I’m refusin’ a headache. I know what happens if I give you’s a seat at the table and it ain’t pretty.”

[Academius glares, then steps back, adjusting his jacket in silent fury.]

[At the table, Del Frio eyes the pot.]

El Tropico de Frio: “Alright, alright… double or nothin’.”

El Rey Del Stupido: “Wait, wait— I thought we said no doubling.”

El Tropico de Frio: “You said that. I didn’t agree.”

El Rey Del Stupido: “That’s not how agreements work!”

[Voices rise. Both men stand. A somewhat meek shoving contest begins.]

El Tropico de Frio: “You’re just mad ‘cause you’re losin’, bro!”

El Rey Del Stupido: “I’m not losing! I just haven’t won yet!”

[Two large masked men step in from the shadows — Frankie Fingers and Tony Knuckles.]

[They grab Del Frio and Del Stupido by the shoulders.]

Frankie Fingers: “Game’s over.”

Tony Knuckles: “Both of you’s.”

El Tropico de Frio: “Whoa, whoa— I was just gettin’ warm!”

El Rey Del Stupido: “Do I still owe the chips?”

[They’re dragged toward the door.]

El Rey Del Stupido: “Because I don’t actually have chips—”

[The door slams shut, both men stood on the outside looking around it.]

[Silence.]

[Moretti looks at the table. Then at Academius.]

Blackhand Moretti: `”Everybody pays…”

[A faint smirk.]

Blackhand Moretti: “One way or another.”

[Academius straightens.]

Academius: “This lesson isn’t finished.”

[Moretti turns away.]

[Cards are reshuffled.]

[And the teacher storms off, passing a disgruntled Frio and Stupido as he walks around the door and leaves.]

[“Lost Boy Crown” hits, cutting through the chaos.]

Signal: “That reaction… they know him.”

Black Scar: “Yeah. Another kid who never learned when to grow up.”

[The Lost Boy steps through the curtain, headbanging for only a moment before his expression hardens.]

[He moves with purpose now, slipping into the ring and popping his neck as he scans the bodies around him.]

[He wastes no time.]

[He charges straight at Nigel Powers.]

[HOOK’S HOOK.]

[The slingblade snaps Nigel down to the mat.]

Signal: “Lost Boy came in swinging!”

[Lost Boy hauls Nigel up and whips him hard into the corner.]

[FOLLOW THE LEADER.]

[Running back splash crushes the air out of Nigel’s chest.]

[Across the ring, Aranza squares up with Cometa IV again.]

[They trade sharp strikes—Cometa fires a kick, Aranza answers with a forearm.]

[Mr. Grimm barrels past them both, colliding with Lux Bellator.]

[FOREARMS are exchanged, neither backing down.]

Black Scar: “That’s a grown-man fight right there.”

[Lost Boy turns—and nearly gets cut in half.]

[SANTIAGO SINIESTRO blasts him with a stiff forearm.]

[Santiago grabs the wrist, trying to pull him in.]

[Lost Boy slips free, grabbing him by the head and running up the corner…]

[OFF TO NEVERLAND.]

[The Acid Drop spikes Santiago to the mat.]

Signal: “That was slick!”

[Lost Boy dusts off his boot deliberately, lining Santiago up.]

Lost Boy: “Bangara—”

[WARLORD MARS storms through.]

[WARHEAD!!!!]

[Lost Boy flips end over end, crashing hard from that BRUTAL headbutt..]

[Outside the ring, Vinell scrambles back to his feet, eyeing Mars.]

[PixelShift springboards in desperation.]

[LEAPING onto Mars’s back.]

[Mars barely stumbles.]

Black Scar: “That all you got, glitch? Didn’t ya try this once before?”

[Lost Boy pulls himself up in the corner, shaking off the impact.]

[He looks around—at the monsters, the hunters, the zealots.]

[Jaw clenched.]

[What’s Lost isn’t done yet.]

[The countdown clock appears once more.]

[The Temple plunges into darkness.]

[A single spotlight sweeps the crowd.]

Signal: “Someone’s coming through the people…”

Black Scar: “Great. Another vigilante with issues.”

[DARKWISH emerges from the aisle, marching down the steps with purpose as fog creeps around the ring.]

[He slides in, climbs the ropes briefly, then drops to sit cross-legged in the center.]

[He rises calmly as the chaos closes in.]

[The Lost Boy scrambles up nearby—only to freeze.]

[MR. GRIMM stands behind him.]

[The Pale Rider’s presence alone drains the color from Lost Boy’s face.]

Signal: “He remembers…”

Black Scar: “Fear’s a wonderful teacher.”

[Lost Boy swings wildly.]

[Grimm absorbs it.]

[SOUL HARVESTER.]

[The clothesline damn near flips Lost Boy inside out.]

[Grimm hauls him back up.]

[TO THE GRAVE.]

[The chokeslam hits with finality.]

[Grimm hooks the leg.]

[ONE..]

[TWO…]

[THREE!]

[ELIMINATION — THE LOST BOY.]

Miss Marquee: “The Lost Boy has been eliminated!

[Grimm rises, unmoved.]

[Elsewhere, Reverend Blackheart storms toward Darkwish.]

[GOD’S FOOT attempt—]

[DARKWISH DUCKS.]

[DAWN.]

[The V-Trigger blasts Blackheart backward into Nigel Powers.]

Nigel Powers: “Oh! Right place, right time!”

[NIGEL DROPS LOW.]

[DO I MAKE YOU HORNY?]

[Low blow lands flush.]

Black Scar: “HA! Divine justice!”

[Blackheart doubles over.]

[NIGEL HOOKS HIM.]

[THE POWERS THAT BE.]

[Flatliner plants Blackheart face-first.]

[Nigel rolls into the cover, shocked himself.]

Signal: “NO WAY—!”

[ONE..]

[TWO…]

[THREE!]

[ELIMINATION — REVEREND JEDIDIAH BLACKHEART.]

Miss Marquee: “Reverend Blackheart has been eliminated!

[Nigel rolls away, eyes wide, then grins.]

Nigel Powers: “Yeah, baby.”

[Darkwish turns as Santiago Siniestro charges.]

[DARKNESS FALLS.]

[Superkick drops Santiago.]

[Across the ring, Mars is being double teamed by Pixel and Vinell, who continue their war.]

[Lux Bellator and Cometa exchange desperate strikes.]

[Aranza watches, calculating.]

[Darkwish perches on the ropes, surveying the carnage.]

Black Scar: “Night just got a lot darker.”

[The countdown clock returns.]

[The lights dim just enough to feel wrong.]

[A low, ominous beat hits—heavy, deliberate.]

Signal: “Uh oh… that’s not lucha music.”

Black Scar: “That’s the sound of somebody coming to collect.”

[BLACKHAND MORETTI steps through the curtain.]

[No rush. No flash.]

[Moretti steps through the ropes and plants himself center-ring, eyes scanning bodies like ledgers.]

[He turns—and immediately levels Cometa IV.]

[OMERTA.]

[The big boot caves Cometa’s chest in, snapping him backward.]

Signal: “Cometa just got cut off mid-orbit!”

[Cometa tries to spring back—]

[WHACKED.]

[Spinebuster drives him flat.]

[Moretti drags him up by the mask.]

[MADE MAN.]

[Short-arm lariat followed by a brutal standing headbutt.]

[Cometa drops in a heap.]

[Moretti hooks the leg.]

[ONE..]

[TWO…]

[THREE!]

[ELIMINATION — COMETA IV.]

Miss Marquee: “Cometa IV has been eliminated!

Black Scar: “Gravity finally won.”

[Before Moretti can even stand fully upright—]

[DR. ERIC VINELL lunges from behind, clawing at his face.]

[Vinell laughs, reaching for his gloves.]

[Moretti doesn’t flinch.]

[He elbows back hard, followed by a brutal kick low that drops him to his knees.]

[I.C.E.]

[The curb stomp crushes Vinell face-first into the mat.]

Signal: “Good Doctor just lost his bedside manner!”

[Vinell tries to crawl.]

[Moretti hauls him up by the coat.]

[CONCRETE SHOES.]

[Sit-out chokeslam shakes the ring.]

[Moretti stays on him, leaning his full weight down.]

[The referee slides in.]

[ONE..]

[TWO…]

[THREE!]

[ELIMINATION — DR. ERIC VINELL.]

Miss Marquee: “Dr. Eric Vinell has been eliminated!

[Moretti rises slowly, adjusting his wrist tape.]

[PixelShift watches from the corner, visor flickering.]

[Aranza and Santiago circle cautiously.]

[Mars snarls from across the ring.]

[Darkwish perches on the ropes, unreadable.]

[LEAPING SPLASH TO THE RISING MORETTI, TAKING HIM DOWN!]

Black Scar: “A debt paid. Plenty left outstanding.”

[Business is booming.]

[The countdown clock appears again.]

[The lights dull to a cold, steel hue.]

[No music at first—just the sound of metal shifting.]

Signal: “That’s… unsettling.”

Black Scar: “Good. Comfort’s overrated.”

[EL HIERRO steps into view.]

[An iron mask cages his face, featureless and heavy.]

[He walks to the ring without haste, eyes scanning the chaos like evidence.]

[He steps through the ropes.]

[ZIGGY ROBBINS rushes toward him, clapping loudly.]

Ziggy Robbins: “Hey! You’re doing great already!”

[El Hierro doesn’t respond, he just leaps.]

[OGUN’S KISS!!]

[The Diving Headbutt spikes Ziggy right on the jaw, FLIPPING him inside out..]

Signal: “Ziggy just got turned inside out!”

[Ziggy scrambles up—JELLY legged.]

[THE NIGE.]

[Running Baseball slide into a leg sweep sends El Hierro crashing face first into the canvas! Ziggy stumbles…]

[MEXICAN DESTROYER!]

[THE LAST GOODBYE!]

[IMMEDIATELY INTO THE COVER!]

[ONE..]

[TWO…]

[THREE!]

[ELIMINATION — ZIGGY ROBBINS.]

Black Scar: “Motivation doesn’t stop you getting your ass kicked! Finally someone shut that idiot up!.”

[WARLORD MARS roars and charges as Hierro erises.]

[Mars swings.]

[El Hierro ducks and explodes forward.]

[He gets scooped up! WAR MACHINE! TORTURE RACK! TORTURE RACK!]

[But here comes Pixelshift!]

[HARD RESET!]

[CODEBREAKER TO MARS! MARS SLAMS BACKWARDS, SLAMMING EL HIERRO INTO THE CANVAS!]

Signal: “He rocked him!”

[Pixel covers Mars!]

[ONE..]

[TWO…]

[THREE!]

[ELIMINATION — WARLORD MARS.]

Black Scar: “Even war forgets eventually.”

[ARANZA stalks in, eyes narrowed.]

[She strikes—quick, sharp.]

[Pixelshift absorbs it.]

[HARD RESET!]

[A JUMPING CODEBREAKER TO ARANZA ASWELL!.]

Signal: “That’s it!”

[ONE..]

[TWO…]

[THREE!]

[ELIMINATION — ARANZA.]

[El Hierro rises slowly, breathing measured.]

[PixelShift is exhausated.]

[Santiago Siniestro tightens his jaw.]

[And unbelievably… Ziggy Robbins has a microphone.]

Black Scar: “Oh God, what now!?”

[Ziggy has a microphone, much to the dismay of Black Scar.]

[He pauses halfway up the ramp, turns back toward the ring, and plants his feet with exaggerated confidence.]

Ziggy Robbins: “Alright! Alright! Everybody breathe!”

[The remaining competitors glance toward him, confused.]

Ziggy Robbins: “I know what you’re thinking. Ziggy… you just got eliminated.”

[He nods earnestly.]

Ziggy Robbins: “And you’re right.”

[A beat.]

Ziggy Robbins: “But elimination… is just redirection!”

[A few chuckles ripple through the crowd.]

Ziggy Robbins: “Every one of you still in that ring? You are special. You are capable. You are one well-timed clothesline away from greatness!”

[He gestures wildly, nearly dropping the microphone.]

Ziggy Robbins: “Remember — pressure makes diamonds… but also sometimes it just makes you panic and fall over the top rope.”

[He shrugs.]

Ziggy Robbins: “And that’s okay!”

[One of the remaining luchadors stares at him.]

Ziggy Robbins: “You can’t have a rainbow without the rain!”

[He points back at himself, smiling proudly.]

Ziggy Robbins: “And right now? I’m soaked.”

[The crowd laughs.]

Ziggy Robbins: “So for those of you out heree. Dig deep. Believe in yourselves.”

[A pause.]

Ziggy Robbins: “And if you get thrown out… remember — Ziggy believes in you.”

[He gives an enthusiastic double thumbs-up.]

Ziggy Robbins: “El Motivador… out!”

[He turns and walks backstage, still nodding encouragingly to himself as the crowd applauds and laughs.]

Black Scar: “I wish someone would punch him in the mouth… again… and again… and again… and again…”

[BACKSTAGE — A dimly lit storage corridor has been transformed into a tiny “screening room.” A battered TV/VHS combo sits on a rolling cart. The tape whirs. Dust hangs in the beam of the screen’s glow.]

[El Ídolo Perdido stands before the screen, arms folded behind his back, posture regal, mask tilted upward in reverent focus.]

[On the TV, a grainy black-and-white film plays — orchestral music faintly audible, slow and poetic.]

El Idolo Perdido: “Look at i-t… restraint… cadence… composition. When cinema still breathed, when every frame meant something.”

[He leans closer, almost whispering to the screen.]

El Idolo Perdido: “Cinema is dying. I remain its final devotee.”

[The tape flickers.]

[The image warps. The music cuts. Static crackles.]

[Then — the footage changes.]

[Instead of the film, the screen now shows Glitter — reclining before a hazy neon backdrop, camera tilted, the scene chaotic and suggestive, laughter and moans implied but indistinct. Colorful silhouettes move in the background like a wild party recorded over the film.]

[Glitter blows a kiss toward the camera — smug, playful, unapologetic.]

Glitter: [on tape] “Mmm… hope you don’t mind. Glitter gets everywhere.”

[The screen glitches again — more chaotic revelry recorded over the classic movie. The audio warps into sultry giggles and breathy teasing, never explicit, but unmistakably indulgent.]

[El Ídolo Perdido freezes.]

[His hands tremble.]

[The tape continues — Glitter lounging, taunting, basking in self-worship.]

Glitter: [on tape] “Art… pleasure… power… why choose just one?”

[The VHS crackles.]

[Silence.]

[Then —]

[El Ídolo Perdido EXPLODES with fury, kicking the cart backward. He rips the VHS from the slot and SLAMS it against the TV. Glass cracks. Plastic shatters.]

El Idolo Perdido: “You… defiled it. You erased beauty — for vanity… for noise!”

[He hurls the tape to the floor and STOMPS it, fragments skittering across concrete.]

El Idolo Perdido: “This was legacy. This was eternity. And you recorded rubbish over immortality!”

[He stands over the ruined tape — breathing hard — then slowly lifts his head.]

[His voice drops, cold… controlled… lethal.]

El Idolo Perdido: “The monster who murdered cinema tonight will answer for it.”

[He turns toward the hallway.]

[The light from the broken screen flickers out.]

[Cut.]

[The arena lights flicker erratically as a low, pulsing beat rolls through the Temple.]

Signal: “…oh no.”

Black Scar: “Yeah. This just got uncomfortable.”

[GLITTER steps through the curtain, draped in shimmering excess, moving with deliberate confidence.]

[They pause, letting the reaction wash over them, then saunter toward the ring.]

[They slide into the ring and immediately drag a steel chair from under the apron, unfolding it with a slow, theatrical snap.]

[Across the ring, Blackhand Moretti narrows his eyes.]

[PixelShift backs into a corner.]

[Santiago Siniestro cracks his knuckles.]

[Glitter smiles, slamming the chair into the turnbuckles..]

[They rush Moretti—]

[GLITTER BOMB.]

[Buckle bomb sends Moretti crashing spine-first into the corner, chair clattering to the mat.]

Signal: “That’ll rearrange your spine!”

[Glitter turns and charges PixelShift.]

[BIG BOOT.]

[They follow by planting a boot across PixelShift’s face, grinding it in before stepping off.]

Black Scar: “Disrespect is universal.”

[Outside the ring, a ladder is slid in by Lux Bellator.]

[Santiago grabs it and swings—]

[GLITTER DUCKS.]

[HIP ATTACK catches Santiago square, knocking him backward into the ropes.]

[ASS TO MOUTH!]

[STINKFACE TO SANTIAGO!]

[Mr. Grimm re-enters the frame, chair in hand.]

[CHAIR SHOT—NO.]

[Glitter sidesteps and snaps a quick takedown, wrenching Grimm to the mat.]

[They hook the head and neck, applying a tight figure-four-style hold, yanking backwith his fingernails for leverage.]

[HARDER DADDY!]

Signal: “That’s nasty—no rules, no mercy!”

[Grimm powers free, shoving Glitter away.]

[Moretti recovers and levels Grimm with a short-arm lariat.]

[He quickly grabs the ladder and sets it up in the corner..]

[Glitter rolls to their knees, laughing softly, glitter dust smeared across the canvas.]

Glitter: “Exploding in your face… just like that.”

[They rise as chairs, ladders, and bodies collide around them.]

[The match has crossed a line—and it’s not going back.]

[The countdown clock begins again.]

[The Temple lights dim to a sickly green.]

[A metronomic ticking replaces the music for a moment.]

Signal: “That’s… unsettling.”

Black Scar: “Smart people are always dangerous, Sig. They don’t panic.”

[EDWARD NEWTON steps into view, coat neat, posture perfect.]

[No rush. No theatrics.]

[He walks straight to the ring, eyes already calculating angles, bodies, weapons.]

[He slides under the ropes as a chair skids past him.]

[Newton steps on the chair, stopping it dead.]

[PixelShift charges.]

[RIDDLE ME THAT.]

[Newton snaps Pixel’s head off the turnbuckle once… twice… then shoves him away.]

Signal: “Newton’s dissecting him!”

[Blackhand Moretti storms in, swinging a forearm.]

[Newton ducks and hooks the arm.]

[NEWTON’S LAW.]

[Sharp armbreaker sends Moretti slamming into the mat.]

Black Scar: “See? Brains hurt more than fists.”

[Across the ring, Santiago Siniestro climbs a ladder.]

[GLITTER tips it over.]

[Santiago crashes hard, rolling toward Newton, into a stumble back to his feet..]

[NEVERMIND.]

[Jumping implant DDT plants Santiago flat.]

[Newton immediately gets back to his feet, just in time to see Glitter coming towards him.]

[CHECKMATE ROLL.]

[Inside cradle transitions seamlessly into an ankle lock.]

Signal: “That’s brilliant—he’s chaining answers together!”

[Glitter claws free, using the ropes to pull himself to the outside, break the hold and scrambles away.]

[Mr. Grimm steps in, chair raised.]

[Newton doesn’t flinch.]

[He kicks the chair into Grimm’s skull and snaps on scoops him up! THE ENIGMA CODE! DEATH.. VALLEY… DRIVER.]

[The Riddler isn’t finished. He grabs him by the legs.]

[Sharpshooter bends him!]

[Lux Bellator charges with a ladder.]

[STRAIGHT TO THE FACE!]

[Lux chucks the ladder down and pulls a stumbling Newton in. Sit-out piledriver drops Edward onto the ladder with a sickening clang.]

Black Scar: “I don’t think that’s the solution to todays riddle, but it might just make him think.”

[Glitter circles Bellator, amused.]

Glitter: “Mmm… clever.”

[Bellator adjusts his cuffs, unbothered.]

[The countdown clock returns.]

[The lights dim—not to darkness, but to a soft, silver hue.]

[A slow, orchestral swell rolls through the Temple.]

Signal: “This feels… different.”

Black Scar: “That’s ego with a budget, Sig.”

[EL ÍDOLO PERDIDO steps onto the stage.]

[No rush. No excess.]

[His eyes find one figure immediately.]

[GLITTER.]

[Glitter smirks, spreading their arms.]

Glitter: “Careful, darling. I steal the spotlight.”

[Ídolo moves first.]

[He crashes him with a sharp kick.]

[FOREARM.]

[Another.]

[GLITTER staggers back into the ropes.]

Signal: “He didn’t even hesitate!”

[Ídolo grabs Glitter by the back of the head and whips them into the corner. Glitter though bounces out and ducks a Clothesline, scooping Idolo straight up into the air…]

[GLITTER BOMB attempt—NO.]

[Ídolo slips out and runs Glitter chest-first into a ladder wedged in the opposite the corner.]

[The ladder clatters, collapsing.]

Black Scar: “Beautiful framing.”

[Glitter struggles backwards clapsing their chest and swings wildly.]

[Ídolo ducks and snaps a precise elbow strike to the jaw, dropping Glitter.]

[He backs away, holding up a hand.]

El Idolo Perdido: “Hold the frame.”

[He climbs the ropes slowly.]

[He looks out over the ring—chairs scattered, bodies moving, chaos everywhere.]

[He waits.]

Signal: “He’s letting the moment breathe…”

[FADE TO BLACK—NO.]

[GLITTER ROLLS AWAY just in time.]

[Ídolo lands hard with his Elbow Drop but rolls through, absorbing the impact.]

[Glitter scrambles up and charges.]

[ASS TO MOUTH—BLOCKED.]

[Ídolo catches them mid-charge and slams into them face first with a Headbutt.]

[He steps back again, breathing steady.]

El Idolo Perdido: “Don’t blink.”

[Around them, Blackhand Moretti and Santiago Siniestro brawl with chairs.]

[Edward Newton watches from a corner, calculating.]

[PixelShift clings to the ropes.]

[Ídolo turns back to Glitter.]

[This scene isn’t over.]

[The countdown clock returns.]

[The lights dim to a deep crimson.]

[A low, echoing chant rolls through the Temple, rhythmic like footsteps in sand.]

Signal: “That… that feels ritualistic.”

Black Scar: “Good. Somebody finally treating this place like sacred ground.”

[SANTIAGO DEL TORO steps into view, draped in a dark matador’s cape.]

[He pauses at the stage, eyes closed, inhaling as if listening to voices only he can hear.]

[He walks to the ring with measured grace.]

[He removes the cape slowly, then slides in beneath the ropes.]

[He stands still.]

[Waiting.]

[Edward Newton turns first, intrigued.]

[Newton steps forward.]

[DEL TORO SNAPS THE CAPE OVER NEWTON’S HEAD.]

[SINISTER MULETA.]

[The crushing forearm smash staggers Newton back into a pile of chairs.]

Signal: “That cape’s not decoration!”

[Newton recovers quickly, reaching—]

[SPECTRAL PASSADA.]

[Del Toro slips aside and snaps a DDT, planting Newton clean.]

[Across the ring, GLITTER lunges at El Ídolo Perdido with a chair.]

[Ídolo blocks it, kneeing Glitter in the midsection.]

[He shoves them back and raises a hand.]

El Idolo Perdido: “Action.”

[RIGHT HAND—NO.]

[GLITTER RAKES THE EYES.]

Black Scar: “Cinema just got censored.”

[Blackhand Moretti barrels into Del Toro.]

[LARIAT—MISSES.]

[CURSED CHARGE.]

[Del Toro slips aside and cracks Moretti with a perfectly timed kick.]

Signal: “Ole!”

[Moretti staggers but stays upright, snarling.]

[Del Toro doesn’t rush.]

[He circles.]

[PixelShift springboards in desperation.]

[CROSSBODY catches Del Toro across the shoulders.]

[Del Toro rolls through the impact, unfazed and back to his feet. He immediately stands over Pixelshift]

[ETERNAL SILENCE.]

[Cobra clutch locked in tight on PixelShift.]

Signal: “He’s squeezing the breath out of him!”

[PixelShift claws toward a ladder, barely slipping free, pulling himself under the ladder and slamming Toro’s head into the ladder.]

[Del Toro rises slowly, kneeling briefly as if in prayer.]

[He looks around at the ring—Glitter and Ídolo still circling, Newton recovering, Moretti stalking.]

[The Matador of Souls has entered the ritual.]

[The countdown clock returns.]

[Ace Starshield stands alone beneath a flickering light, mask tilted downward, shoulders slumped. He grips the edge of a flight case like it’s the last solid thing in the universe.]

Ace Starshield: “I was supposed to save this place.”

[He exhales slowly.]

Ace Starshield: “A champion protects the innocent. That’s the mission.”

[He shakes his head.]

Ace Starshield: “I failed.”

[A pause.]

Ace Starshield: “I failed Earth… and I failed Benny.”

[Footsteps approach — light, almost playful.]

[Dolly Daydream appears, skipping slightly as she heads toward the ring, then stopping when she notices Ace.]

[She tilts her head, studying him with open curiosity.]

Dolly Daydream: “Hey.”

[A gentle smile beneath the mask.]

Dolly Daydream: “You look like your thoughts are being very loud.”

[Ace straightens slightly, surprised.]

Ace Starshield: “This is no place for distractions.”

Dolly Daydream: “It’s a hallway.”

[A beat.]

Dolly Daydream: “They’re usually pretty good for distractions.”

[Ace doesn’t smile.]

Ace Starshield: “If I don’t stay vigilant, more people get hurt.”

[Dolly steps closer, lowering her voice.]

Dolly Daydream: “I get it. When things get scary… I go somewhere safe.”

[Ace looks at her, confused.]

Ace Starshield: “A bunker?”

Dolly Daydream: “My Dreamhouse.”

[She gestures vaguely with her hands.]

Dolly Daydream: “Nothing bad can get me there unless I let it.”

[A pause.]

Dolly Daydream: “That’s where I play when my thoughts are mean.”

[Ace stiffens.]

Ace Starshield: “Play?”

[Dolly nods, cheerful.]

Dolly Daydream: “With toys.”

[Ace recoils slightly.]

Ace Starshield: “Toy?”

[His voice hardens.]

Ace Starshield: “I am not a toy.”

[He straightens fully now, heroic posture snapping back into place.]

Ace Starshield: “I’m a savior. A captain. There’s a galaxy full of danger that doesn’t stop just because I’m tired.”

[Dolly blinks, genuinely puzzled.]

Dolly Daydream: “That sounds… exhausting.”

[A beat.]

Dolly Daydream: “You know you don’t have to save everything all the time, right?”

[Ace hesitates.]

[Dolly steps back toward the ramp, spinning once on her heel.]

Dolly Daydream: “If you ever want to stop thinking so hard…”

[She points playfully at him.]

Dolly Daydream: “You can come play with me.”

[A soft grin.]

Dolly Daydream: “Let’s play!”

[She skips off toward the ring.]

[Ace watches her go, confused… unsettled… thoughtful.]

[He looks down at his hands.]

Ace Starshield: “Heroes don’t play.”

[A pause.]

[He glances back down the corridor she disappeared into.]

[For just a moment… his stance softens.]

[Dr. Eric Vinell walks with purpose, flanked by two masked orderlies in stained lab coats. One pushes a wheeled medical cart filled with restraints, syringes, and sealed containers.]

[Vinell clasps his hands behind his back, posture immaculate, eyes alight with obsession.]

Dr. E. Vinell: “Fascinating… absolutely fascinating.”

[He stops suddenly, causing the orderlies to nearly collide with him.]

Dr. E. Vinell: “Did you see her?”

[The orderlies exchange uneasy glances.]

Dr. E. Vinell: “Such muscle definition. Such instinct.”

[A thin smile creeps beneath his mask.]

Dr. E. Vinell: “She is the next step. The perfect subject.”

[He turns to them sharply.]

Dr. E. Vinell: “Prepare the restraints. Tonight, we advance the experiment.”

[A low sound cuts through the corridor — not loud, but sharp. A breath. A step.]

[One orderly turns.]

[Too late.]

[Aranza explodes out of the shadows.]

[She drives an elbow into the first orderly’s throat, dropping them instantly.]

[The second reaches for Vinell.]

[Aranza sweeps their legs, mounts them, and delivers two brutal strikes before yanking them unconscious.]

[The cart crashes over, instruments scattering across the floor.]

[Silence.]

[Vinell backs away slowly, eyes wide — not with fear, but fascination.]

Dr. E. Vinell: “Remarkable reflexes… impeccable timing…”

[Aranza straightens, looming between him and the fallen orderlies.]

Aranza: “You mistake observation for control, Doctor.”

[She steps closer.]

Aranza: “You stalk prey from behind glass.”

[A pause.]

Aranza: “I hunt face to face.”

[Vinell steadies himself, forcing composure.]

Dr. E. Vinell: “You would be extraordinary under my care.”

[Aranza tilts her head, predatory.]

Aranza: “Care?”

[A low, dangerous laugh.]

Aranza: “The thrill is in the kill.”

[She reaches out, dragging one clawed fingertip slowly across Vinell’s chest.]

Aranza: “And right now… you’ve forgotten something very important.”

[Vinell swallows.]

Aranza: “Only one of us is the hunter.”

[A beat.]

Aranza: “And only one of us is prey.”

[She steps back into the shadows, vanishing as suddenly as she appeared.]

[Vinell stands alone, breathing hard, staring at the fallen orderlies.]

[Slowly… he smiles.]

Dr. E. Vinell: “Excellent.”

[A pause.]

Dr. E. Vinell: “The Doctor is in.”

[“Game Over” hits with a cold electronic thrum.]

[The lights dim into a sterile, unsettling glow.]

Signal: “That music always means somebody’s about to start pulling strings.”

Black Scar: “Yeah. And you don’t even know you’re playing.”

[DR. CUBE steps into the aisle, moving with deliberate calm.]

[He pauses midway, tilting his head side to side as if counting pieces on a board.]

[He traces the outline of a cube in the air.]

[He enters the ring and immediately crouches in the corner, watching.]

[Edward Newton notices first.]

[Two minds lock eyes.]

Black Scar: “Oh this is gonna get nasty.”

[Newton steps forward.]

[CHECKMATE.]

[Dr. Cube spins out of the corner with a sudden back elbow, snapping Newton’s head back.]

Signal: “That came out of nowhere!”

[Dr. Cube hooks Newton’s arm.]

[RUSSIAN ROULETTE.]

[Hammerlock DDT plants Newton near a folded chair.]

[Across the ring, GLITTER charges El Ídolo Perdido again.]

[Ídolo catches them with a knee and shoves them onto a table propped in the corner.]

[He raises a hand.]

[RUNNING SPLASH THROUGH THE TABLE!.]

[Blackhand Moretti storms in, chair raised.]

[CHAIR SHOT TO THE SKULL OF DR. CUBE.]

[NO!]

[Dr. Cube ducks and GAME OVER! PACKAGE PILEDRIVER!]

Signal: “Will he cover?!”

[ONE…]

[TWO…]

[Moretti powers out, tossing Cube into the ropes.]

[SANTIAGO SINIESTRO slides in with a ladder.]

[He swings—]

[A RISING DR. CUBE SIDESTEPS.]

[The ladder cracks against the ropes.]

[CUBE BOUNCES IT BACK WITH FORCE AND SHOVES IT INTO SINIESTRO’S MIDSECTION.]

[PixelShift springboards, desperation etched across his visor.]

[Cube catches him mid-landing.]

[PACKAGE—NO.]

[PixelShift slips free and scrambles away.]

[Dr. Cube straightens, unfazed.]

[He traces the cube again.]

Dr. Cube: “The Game Master’s design will remain.”

[Tables, ladders, and bodies litter the ring.]

[Every move now feels intentional.]

[The countdown clock appears once more.]

[Neon lights flash as “Dollhouse Rumble” cuts through the carnage.]

Signal: “This one’s… a tonal shift.”

Black Scar: “Yeah. And this place eats innocence for breakfast.”

[DOLLY DAYDREAM skips out from the back, waving enthusiastically.]

[Dolly slaps hands, spins once at the top of the ramp, then jogs to the ring.]

[Dolly slides under the bottom rope and immediately skips a full lap around the ring, narrowly dodging a fallen chair.]

[Dolly enters the ring charges straight at Lux Bellator.]

[PERFECTION.]

[The codebreaker snaps Bellator down onto the mat.]

Signal: “She caught the Warrior!”

Black Scar: “Even the so called voice of God can get taken down.”

[She covers…]

[ONE..]

[TWO…]

[THREE!]

[LUX BELLATOR HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!]

Miss Marquee: “Lux Bellator has been eliminated!”

Signal: “Can’t say I saw that coming!”

[Dolly pops back to her feet and grabs Newton’s arm and whips him toward the ropes.]

[OFF WITH IT.]

[The ripcord running knee sends Newton spilling through the ropes to the apron.]

[Behind her, Santiago Del Toro stalks in silence.]

[He feints.]

[Dolly spins, scoops—]

[CHESHIRE SNAP.]

[Snapmare driver drops Del Toro flat.]

Signal: “She’s not just playing around!”

[She gets back to her feet and beckons for him to rise. Del Toro does…]

[PORCELAIN SHATTER!]

[IMPLANT DDT!]

[She covers…]

[ONE..]

[TWO…]

[THREE!]

[SANTIAGO DEL TORO HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!]

Miss Marquee: “Santiago Del Toro has been eliminated!”

[Across the ring, El Ídolo Perdido and Glitter collide again.]

[Ídolo drives Glitter back-first into the corner, these two locked in a seemingly endless movie all for themselves.]

[GLITTER counters, shoving Ídolo backwards over… Nigel Powers… who uh… was for some reason on all fours?.]

Black Scar: “Messy scene. No reshoots. Could get messier with Powers on his knees.”

[Blackhand Moretti storms toward Dolly.]

[He swings.]

[Dolly ducks low and OFF WITH IT! RICPORD KNEE!]

Signal: “Dolly’s everywhere!”

[Dolly giggles and skips backward—right into Dr. Cube.]

[Cube reaches for her wrist.]

[HAMMERLOCK DDT attempt—NO.]

[Dolly twists free and plants a quick boot to Cube’s knee.]

[PixelShift joins in, firing a quick strike to Cube’s ribs.]

[Mr. Grimm looms nearby, chair in hand.]

[Dolly looks up at him.]

[Dolly gives a small wave.]

[Grimm pauses.]

Black Scar: “…don’t get attached, kid.”

[The lights dim to a sickly blue-green.]

[A low, groaning sound rolls through the Temple, like wood straining under water.]

Signal: “…that sounds like a ship going down.”

Black Scar: “Nah. That’s the ocean coming to collect.”

[MORCANT BLACKTIDE emerges through rolling fog.]

[His presence feels heavy, dragging at the air itself.]

[He walks with purpose toward the ring, eyes dead and fixed.]

[Morcant steps over the ropes and immediately grabs a steel chair.]

[He doesn’t swing it.]

[He crushes it over his knee and tosses the twisted metal aside.]

Signal: “That chair just died.”

[Dolly Daydream skips toward him—then stops.]

[DOLLY THINKS BETTER OF IT.]

Black Scar: “Smart kid.”

[Morcant turns and storms straight into Blackhand Moretti.]

[DEAD RECKONING.]

[The clothesline from hell flattens Moretti mid-step.]

[Morcant hauls him up again.]

[THE SOULBREAKER.]

[The spinebuster drives Moretti through a table propped nearby, wood exploding outward.]

Signal: “Moretti just got sent to the bottom!”

[Across the ring, El Ídolo Perdido leaps toward Glitter.]

[MORCANT INTERCEPTS.]

[FOGBOUND.]

[European uppercut snaps Ídolo out of the air.]

[He drops into the cover..]

[ONE..]

[TWO…]

[THREE!]

[EL IDOLO PERDIDO HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!]

Miss Marquee: “El Idolo Perdido has been eliminated!”

[Glitter laughs, blowing Perdido a kiss. But Morcant is immediately back to his feet..]

[Morcant grabs them by the throat.]

[DROWNED KING’S GRASP.]

[Falling chokeslam rattles the ring.]

Black Scar: “Drag ‘em under.”

[Edward Newton charges with a chair.]

[Morcant catches the chair and shoves it back into Newton’s head.]

[STEEL CHAIR TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD BY PADRE DEL LA VENGANZA!]

[But that just pisses Morcant off. He turns around…]

[THE BLACK SOULWAKE!]

[SPINNING SIT OUT POWERBOMB INTO THE COVER..]

[ONE..]

[TWO…]

[THREE!]

[PADRE DEL LA VENGANZA HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!]

Miss Marquee: “Padre Del La Venganza has been eliminated!”

Signal: “Morcant is cleaning house!”

[PixelShift springboards as Morcant rises—]

[Morcant swats him out of the air with a forearm.]

[Moretti is back to his feet, dazed and confused..]

[THE BLACK SOULWAKE!]

[SPINNING SIT OUT POWERBOMB INTO THE COVER..]

[ONE..]

[TWO…]

[THREE!]

[BLACKHAND MORRETI HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!]

Miss Marquee: “Blackhand Moretti has been eliminated!”

Black Scar: “If this monster started this thing, it’d be over by now.”

[Mr. Grimm steps up, eyes locked with the rising Morcant.]

[The two titans stare each other down.]

Signal: “Death… meets the sea.”

[They collide with brutal forearms.]

[El Hierro circles nearby..]

[Dolly watches from the ropes, wide-eyed.]

[Morcant grabs Grimm and sits him on the top rope.]

[ANCHOR AWAY—NO.]

[Grimm kicks out, stopping himself from being pushed overboard..]

[Morcant snarls, gripping the ropes.]

[The ring feels like it’s sinking.]

[The tide has arrived.]

Signal: “Folks, I hear we’re heading backstage.”

[Backstage, a quiet service corridor glows with cold, industrial lighting.]

[Cometa IV stands alone near a loading bay door, his silver-and-blue mask dulled by exhaustion rather than damage. He holds a microphone loosely at his side.]

[The distant sound of the crowd leaks through the walls like a fading echo.]

Cometa IV: “Tonight wasn’t my night.”

[He exhales, steadying himself.]

Cometa IV: “I reached… and I missed.”

[A small nod, accepting.]

Cometa IV: “But missing doesn’t mean stopping.”

[He looks upward, as if the ceiling weren’t there.]

Cometa IV: “The stars don’t belong to the ones who never fall.”

[The lights flicker.]

Cometa IV: “They belong to the ones who keep reaching.”

[He lifts his hand, palm open.]

Cometa IV: “A las estrellas.”

[The corridor darkens.]

[The lights cut out completely.]

[A cold wind howls through the space, unnatural, carrying the faint sound of distant chanting.]

[Red emergency lights snap on, bathing the walls in crimson.]

[Dark mist rolls along the floor, curling around Cometa’s boots.]

[A voice emerges from everywhere and nowhere — calm, elegant, hollow.]

Santiago Del Toro: (voice) “Reaching will not save you.”

[Cometa turns slowly, scanning the shadows.]

Santiago Del Toro: (voice) “This arena remembers every fall.”

[The mist thickens.]

Santiago Del Toro: (voice) “And it hungers.”

[A pause.]

Santiago Del Toro: (voice) “I am coming for your soul.”

[The wind stops.]

[The lights snap back to normal.]

[The mist is gone.]

[Cometa IV stands alone again, chest rising, unmoved.]

[He tightens his fist.]

Cometa IV: “Then look up.”

[He lowers the microphone and walks down the corridor, eyes fixed forward.]

[“The Lesson Plan” begins with a soft, unsettling piano line.]

[The lights narrow into a single spotlight at the entrance.]

Signal: “Uh oh… I know that walk.”

Black Scar: “That’s authority, Sig. You either learn or you get punished.”

[ACADEMIUS steps into view, wooden ruler slapping sharply against his palm.]

[He pauses, fixing the ring with a withering glare, then walks forward with measured precision.]

Academius: “Sit down and shut up… class is in session.”

[He wipes his boots on the apron before stepping through the ropes.]

[The ruler comes up immediately.]

[CRACK.]

[The ruler snaps across PixelShift’s back.]

Signal: “That sounded personal!”

[PixelShift stumbles forward.]

[EXPULSION.]

[The running knee strike catches PixelShift flush at the temple, dropping him to a knee.]

[Academius dusts his hands.]

Academius: “You’ve failed… and failure has consequences.”

[He grabs PixelShift and spins.]

[DETENTION.]

[Tilt-a-whirl backbreaker transitions into a seated stretch muffler.]

[PixelShift howls, clawing toward a chair.]

[Across the ring, Morcant Blacktide shoves Mr. Grimm into the ropes.]

[THEN STORMS ACROSS THE RING WITH A BIG BOOT TO ACADEMIUS!]

[El Hierro is next, turning Morcant around.]

[The two collide with heavy forearms.]

[Glitter meanwhile crawls back in with a chair, laughing.]

[CHALK DUST.]

[Academius rose and took him down beautifully with a Butterfly suplex that dumps Glitter hard onto the chair he dropped when grabbed.]

Black Scar: “Pop quiz—wrong answer.”

[Dolly Daydream steps in]

[She charges.]

[PUNCTUATION MARK.]

[Dragon twist cutter plants Dolly.]

Signal: “Academius is grading everybody!”

[Edward Newton rises, eyes narrowed.]

[Two minds size each other up.]

[Newton swings a chair.]

[Academius blocks it with a boot, snapping it aside.]

[LECTURE LOCK attempt—NO. NEWTON REFUSES TO BE DRAGGED DOWN.]

[Newton shoves him away.]

[Academius straightens his collar, unbothered.]

[El Hierro somehow Clotheslines Morcant over the top rope and turns on a dime, quick to get back into the action.]

[THE MEXICAN DESTROYER!]

[EL ULTIMO ADIOS!]

[SANTIAGO SINESTRO COVERS!]

[ONE!]

[TWO!]

[THREE!]

[EL HIERRO HAS BEEN ELIMINATED]

Miss Marquee: “El Hierro has been eliminated!”

Signal: “He just survived Morcant and found himself killed by the Hitman instantly.”

Black Scar: “That’s the way of it in this business. Hang on, Sinestro doesn’t see him…”

[NIGHT TERROR!]

[PACKAGE FISHERMAN BUSTER BY DARKWISH!]

[He covers..]

[ONE!]

[TWO!]

[THREE!]

[EL HIERRO HAS BEEN ELIMINATED]

Miss Marquee: “El Hierro has been eliminated!”

Signal: “I don’t know where that came from, but Darkwish is back in the action.”

Black Scar: “More importantly, we’re down to the final 11!”

[As if on cue, Nigel Powers quickly grabs Darkwish, only The Dark Avenger has other ideas, pushing him backwards into the ropes.]

[Across the ring, Dr. Cube and Academius brawl.]

[Morcant Blacktide meanwhile has long tripped Mr. Grimm and drug him beneath the bottom rope. They brawl, Blacktide slamming Grimm’s head into the steel ring steps.]

[Suddenly, Darkwish launches himself over the top, landing right onto Morcant and Grimm.]

[Back inside the ring and the field seems to have cleared for all but two…]

[NIGEL POWERS and GLITTER.]

[The ring is stripped to its essentials now—no crowding bodies, just debris, breath, and consequence.]

[PIXELSHIFT and DR. CUBE stand opposite one another.]

Signal: “This is it. No glitches left to hide behind.”

Black Scar: “Wrong. This is where the smartest monster wins.”

[Dr. Cube tilts his head, tracing an invisible cube.]

Dr. Cube: “You’ve reached the final puzzle.”

[PixelShift rolls his shoulders, visor flickering.]

Pixelshift: “Cool.”

[Cube steps in first.]

[HEADBUTT BY PIXELSHIFT! He grabs Cube, but Cube spins him.]

[Pixel’s head snaps off the turnbuckle.]

[Cube doesn’t rush—he stalks.]

[HAMMERLOCK DDT]

[RUSSIAN ROULETTE]

[PUZZLE LOCK.]

[The Regal Stretch cinches in, bending PixelShift backward.]

Signal: “Cube’s got him locked in!”

[PixelShift grits his teeth, boots scrambling.]

[His visor flickers—static—then flashes “1UP.”]

[CONTINUE SCREEN.]

[PixelShift powers his way forward, rolling through just enough to kick free and scramble upright.]

Black Scar: “You can’t reboot forever.”

[PixelShift fires back instantly.]

[8-BIT COMBO.]

Pixelshift: “A! B! DOWN! UP!”

[Quick kicks and chops land in rhythm, finally forcing Cube to retreat a step.]

[Cube swings.]

[CHECKMATE.]

[The spinning back elbow cracks PixelShift across the jaw mid-combo.]

[PixelShift stumbles into the ropes.]

[Cube follows, precise.]

[PixelShift drops suddenly.]

[LAG SPIKE.]

[The fake freeze draws Cube in—then the cutter snaps him face-first into the mat.]

Signal: “He baited him!”

[PixelShift doesn’t pause. He heads to the top rope…]

[SKY DIVER PRESS.]

[The diving senton bomb crashes down, pixelated wings flashing across the visor.]

[PixelShift hooks the leg.]

[ONE!]

[TWO!]

[Cube kicks out, immediately rolling away to deny momentum.]

Black Scar: “That was too close.”

[PixelShift pushes to his feet, breathing hard.]

[Cube rises slower, eyes narrowed now.]

[Cube lunges.]

[RUSSIAN ROULETTE AGAIN.]

[PixelShift flips through this time, landing on his feet.]

[POWER-UP PLEX.]

[The fisherman suplex plants Cube, PixelShift holding on an extra beat as the crowd chants before releasing.]

Signal: “That strength came out of nowhere!”

[PixelShift backs up, measuring.]

[Cube rolls to his knees.]

[PixelShift charges.]

[HARD RESET—NO.]

[Cube shoves him mid-jump, sending PixelShift crashing chest-first into the turnbuckles.]

[Cube grabs him from behind.]

[He lifts him up for the Game Over.]

Signal: “This could end it!”

[PixelShift kicks frantically, twisting his weight.]

[He slips free, landing on the apron.]

[Cube turns—]

[PixelShift springboards.]

[HARD RESET CONNECTS THIS TIME.]

[The jumping codebreaker snaps Cube down hard.]

[PixelShift doesn’t cover.]

[He stares at Cube, then at the ropes.]

[He climbs.]

[One rope.]

[Second.]

[He reaches the top turnbuckle.]

[PixelShift stands tall, arms spread for balance, visor glowing steadily.]

Signal: “He’s thinking big!”

Black Scar:“Or thinking stupid.”

[PixelShift steadies himself on the top rope.]

[The level isn’t finished yet.]

[But the player still has control.]

[Darkness.]

[When the lights come back on, Warlord Mars and Santiago Sinestro stand on the ring apron. They push Pixelshift off!]

[Pixel though rolls through, Sinestro flips over the top rope, catching him as he does.]

[MEXICAN DESTROYER!]

Signal: “What the hell is the meaning of this?!”

Black Scar: “I love it!”

[Pixelshift has been destroyed. Warlord Mars heads to the top rope as Sinestro pulls Pixel into position…]

Warlord Mars: “This… Is… WAAARRR!!!”

[WARCRIME!]

[MOOOONSAULT!]

Black Scar: “GAME OVER! THAT KID IS A PANCAKE”

[Dr. Cube crawls into the cover…]

[ONE!]

[TWO!]

[THREE!]

Miss Marquee: “Pixelshift has been eliminated and is your NEW OSW Gift of the Gods Champion, but your winner, and NEW OSW World Heavyweight Champion… Dr. Cube!”

Signal: “This is ridiculous. Pixelshift survived from the second entry to be screwed over!”

Black Scar: “This is Dr. Cube’s game, Sig. Pixelshift played the best he could but it was always rigged in the Gamemasters favour!”

[Dr. Cube stands at its center, newly crowned, as the OSW World Championship is placed into his hands. He lifts it slowly, reverently.]

[Warlord Mars looms at his right, arms crossed, battle-scarred and seething.]

[Santiago Siniestro stands at his left, silent, coiled, dangerous.]

[PixelShift lies unconscious on the canvas at their feet.]

Signal: “Dr. Cube stands atop OSW tonight… and he didn’t do it alone.”

Black Scar: “That’s not a champion. That’s a control structure.”

[Dr. Cube raises the title high.]

Dr. Cube: “Look at it.”

[A grin curls beneath the mask.]

Dr. Cube: “A perfect prize for a perfect design.”

[He gestures to Mars and Siniestro.]

Dr. Cube: “A War Machine.”

[A slow turn toward the fallen PixelShift.]

Dr. Cube: “Built to decimate OSW… and anyone foolish enough to stand in its path.”

[Dr. Cube points down.]

Dr. Cube: “Finish the game.”

[Warlord Mars steps forward, cracking his neck.]

Warlord Mars: “I told you… this is war.”

[Suddenly—the tron flickers to life.]

[Edward Newton appears on the screen, calm, composed, hands clasped behind his back.]

Edward Newton: “Impressive.”

[A faint smile.]

Edward Newton: “Arguing in public. Dissension. Chaos.”

[He nods slightly.]

Edward Newton: “A very clever ruse.”

[Mars snarls at the screen.]

Edward Newton: “But Doctor…”

[A pause.]

Edward Newton: “You are not the only one who plans ahead.”

[He raises a hand.]

Edward Newton: “Now.”

[He snaps his fingers.]

[The lights go out.]

[The arena erupts.]

Signal: “Hey— HEY—!”

Black Scar: “This just got bad.”

[The lights snap back on.]

[PixelShift is gone.]

[Mars spins in place, furious.]

[The ring is now surrounded by men in green riddle masks, flooding in from all sides.]

Signal: “PixelShift has vanished!”

Black Scar: “That was extraction.”

[The riddle-masked men swarm the ring.]

[Siniestro strikes first, dropping one.]

[Mars barrels through two more.]

[Dr. Cube backs toward the ropes, clutching the title.]

[In the chaos, Edward Newton slips in through the crowd, masked, unseen.]

[He slides into the ring.]

[Dr. Cube turns— too late.]

[Newton snatches the World Championship from Cube’s hands.]

Dr. Cube: “No—!”

[Newton rolls out of the ring, holding the title.]

[The tron flickers again.]

Edward Newton: [on screen] “Every riddle is a question.”

[He lifts the championship.]

Edward Newton: “I’m the answer you didn’t see coming.”

[The ring descends into a full mass brawl.]

Signal: “The title’s been stolen! The war machine is surrounded!”

Black Scar: “This isn’t the end.”

[A long beat.]

Black Scar: “This is the opening move.”

[The camera cuts between chaos, the stolen title, and Dr. Cube screaming in fury.]

[Fade to black.]

[Cut.]