COLLECTION EVENT IV
Static covers the screen as a Play ► symbol appears in the bottom right-hand corner.
On a small ranch in Texas, a man works tirelessly, day and night. He’s big, muscular and athletic looking. As he surveys the cattle in front of him, Sigil appears.
Startled but not afraid, the man frowns.
“Relax, big boy, I’ve not come to fight,” Sigil warns with hands raised. “I just want to talk.”
“Talk fast,” he responds.
“I need you in Old School Wrestling, kid. It’s like I told you last time, I’m building a group of young, fearless, defiant radicals and you’re the muscle.”
He shakes his head.
“I’m not the guy you want,” he declines defiantly. “Old School Wrestling has never been, nor will it ever be my home. I know everything about that place. It’s sickening.”
“You’re an amateur wrestler, an Olympian, a man that holds honours at multiple levels and this is what you’re doing?” Sigil asks, surveying the ranch. “This?”
The man walks over, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him backwards into a nearby wooden pillar.
“This?” He growls. “This is honourable. This supports my family.”
Suddenly, three others appear. We’ve seen them all before. The young lady training in the gym, the fighter who saw his own death ‘Jay’ and the religious brother.
They pull him away from Sigil, but he spins, clobbering one with a right hook.
The female leaps in with a series of lightning fast kicks, doubling the big guy over.
The man from the convent follows in with a high knee that drops him to the floor. Sigil quickly interrupts.
“Enough!” He barks.
The big guy is resilient though, getting back to his feet.
“Fuck me,” Jay hisses. “This mother fucker is a tank.”
“That’s my name,” the man says, checking his nose for blood. “And I’m not coming with you.”
“You must,” Sigil says sombrely, like he has something to tell him. “I’m not supposed to interfere with time any more than I have to but your destiny is to follow me into the breach, Tank. I’ll show you what happens should you refuse.”
He places a hand on his shoulder and they vanish – much like he did with Jay. When they come back, Tank drops to his knees, tears streaming down his face.
“No?” He begs. “That can’t be.”
“I’m afraid it is,” Sigil continues. “You’ve been chosen for a reason, Tank. You’re special. All four of you are special. You know why that is. You know what you can do. Together, as a unit, you can help me defeat the former time lord who comes for my crystal.”
Tank stands up.
EVENING THE ODDS
Backstage, Malice is getting ready for his match when he hears shouting.
“Hey, Malice! Catch!”
A football is tossed in the air. Malice goes to catch it but another one is thrown faster and hits him below the belt! Malice drops to the floor! He is on his hands and knees in pain! The Plague Rat slinks out of the shadows with a football helmet on! He takes it off and stands over Malice! He is bashing him in the back of the head over and over with the helmet! Malice drops flat! He looks out of it and The Plague Rat lets out a cold, short laugh.
The Plague Rat marches down the halls trying to find the others. He spots Kazaku getting ready in the hall. She is laser-focused as she is jogging in place. The Plague Rat grabs a chair and sneaks up behind her! He blasts her in the back! She is writhing in pain as he hits her back over and over again! He hits the back of her head to stun her! He lays her head on the chair and grabs another! He smashes her head in between the chairs! Con-chair-to! She looks like she is out cold.
“I don’t need anyone else to make beautiful music.”
He spits on her and storms down the hall.
“Now where’s that dice bitch?!”
The Plague Rat is marching again once he finally hears Clickity-Clack! He hides behind a corner and waits for Dice. Dice is marching not looking around. The Plague Rat opens a dice bag and tosses all the dice on the floor! Dice trips on them and lands flat on his back.
“You should have made a perception check.”
The Plague Rat grabs Dice’s hair and starts bashing his head on the floor and the dice below him! He grabs some dice and shoves them into Dice’s mouth! He stomps right onto the dice! Dice is choking!
The Plague Rat stomps on Dice’s stomach making him spit out the dice. The first one that fell out lands on the number one.
The Plague Rat yanks Dice up and drops him with a brainbuster on the dice! Dice looks like he will not get up for a while.
“If it’s going to be three on one, I’m going to make them weaker than me combined. They should already announce me as the winner.”
The Plague Rat chuckles as he makes his way towards the entrance ramp.
PLAGUE RAT VS. MALICE VS. KAZAKU VS. DICE
FATAL FOUR WAY MATCH
The Plague Rat walks into this match with a massive advantage as he focuses on his injured opponents.
The Pandemic is spreading as Plague Rat rushes Kazaku and whips her into the ropes! He takes her down with a terrifying headbutt before turning and grabbing hold of Malice! The rat has a smile on his face as he brings Miles in dangerously close!
AND HE BEGINS TO BITE AT HIS HEAD! BLOOD POOLS OUT OF THE MICHIGAN MAULER’S FACE!
Blood seeps through his teeth as he dashes Malice to the ground! He turns around and sees that Dice is missing from his corner! He looks around and sees Dice behind him!
The Plague Rat catches a die in his hands!
THE CHAOS BOLT D8! IT LANDED ON A ONE FOR POOR PLAGUE AND ACID DRENCHES HIS CHEST!
Plague Rat drops the die and he bats at his skin! Dice runs forward and hits a flying knee to the jaw of Plague Rat that drops him to the ground in horrifying fashion! Dice slowly gets to his feet, still feeling the effects of Plague Rat’s attack! But Kazaku is back on her feet and she catches him with a massive rolling savate kick to the chest! Dice holds his chest and Kazaku sends him to the ground with a massive DDT!
She goes for the pin on Dice!
NO! MALICE PULLS HER OFF OF HIM!
The blood covered mauler forces Kazaku up and hits a massive German suplex that throws Kazaku across the ring with terrifying strength! He turns around and goes to continue the assault on the poor girl!
LOW BLOW! LOW BLOW BY PLAGUE RAT!
Malice gets down to one knee and yells in pain as Plague Rat chuckles as he grabs Malice from behind, trying to lift him into a crucifix! He goes for the end- Dice is up!
KICK TO THE GUT! NAT 20! TWIST OF FATE! PLAGUE RAT HITS THE GROUND!
Dice tries to go for the pin, but Malice didn’t stay down!
HE SCOOPS UP DICE ONTO HIS SHOULDERS! MALICIOUS INTENT! TORTURE RACK PILEDRIVER!
Malice plants Dice into the ground and goes for the cover!
Malice has done it! Despite the beat down from Plague Rat before the match, The Michigan Mauler still stands tall!
We find Marvolo, nose pressed into the phone that was contained in SeeSaw’s box last week, where a GPS locater flashes at him rapidly, dangerously close to his current location. He checks the map, nods confidently to himself and steps inside what appears to be an abandoned warehouse.
As he does so, the GPS locator on the phone changes, revealing a countdown that starts ticking from thirty minutes.
He observes the timer for a moment, as SeeSaw’s voice rings out, echoing all around the empty shell of a room.
“Welcome! I trust that you had no problem finding your way.”
Marvolo wheels about, looking for the source of the voice but finding none.
“Show yourself, SeeSaw. Marvolo has no time for cowards.”
Maniacal laughter fills the air. Absently, Mavolo wanders into the centre of the warehouse, still searching around him.
“That’s it. Just a few more steps and it’s nearly playtime! We have all the time in the world.”
What Marvolo II fails to realise is that he has wandered right onto the centre of a large painted X on the ground, like something straight out of a Road Runner cartoon. He looks puzzled.
“But Marvolo sees there is still much time on the timer!”
Laughter again from an unknown source.
“Your playtime starts now.”
At the word, a large wooden box falls from the ceiling, large enough to envelop Marvolo with room to spare. The voice is amplified now, seeming to come from every angle. A collection of CCTV cameras stare at Marvolo from every angle of the box.
“Welcome to the Toybox. We’re going to have some fun!”
Marvolo rushes over to the wall, trying to break it down, but it does not budge. He’s trapped. From the roof of the toybox, a plethora of toys of every which description fall.
The timer continues to count down…
Counting down to ‘playtime’.
FIRE AND DARKNESS
In the dark depths of The Slaughterhouse, a single flame appears.
It casts a fiery orange glow against Mez’s metal mask; he lies restrained on a rusty iron cot.
Then, through a small puff of smoke, the being known as Helstrom appears.
The pitch-black room is now illuminated as if by a bright-burning torch.
“Darkness,” says Helstrom. “Lightness.”
“Within all, there is both,” it continues. “But you, Mez? Your light has been stolen. Extinguished. And now only darkness remains.”
Mez remains silent, but struggles against his restraints.
“Does that make you evil? Does that make you irredeemable?” Helstrom asks.
A moment passes.
“I do not know.”
“Fire… darkness…” Mez says. He’s out of breath, like he’s in great pain. “Innocent.. guilty… ALL BULLSHIT.”
The madman fiercely flails against his restraints. The old cot scrapes against the floor, almost breaking. But the ties do not give out.
“All is as it is willed,” Helstrom says. It turns away from Mez. “You were to be brought before those I serve. But an ancient and wise being believes you must be destroyed.”
Abruptly, Mez’s head fall back on the cot. The metal mask clangs off it.
“…good…,” says the madman. His voice is different now. Weaker. Defeated.
“You would welcome such an end?” Helstrom asks, turning back around.
But whatever peace had overcome Mez–it’s gone once again.
“END?” the madman asks, his voice roaring once more. “IT WILL NEVER END.”
“Your captivity?” Helstrom asks.
Mez’s entire hulking body rages against the ties that bind him down.
Mez convulses wildly. Helstrom shakes its head mournfully.
“I feel now what the fox felt in you,” it says. “The void of pure, seething darkness. A furious nothingness.”
Mez’s rising tide of madness has receded now. He breathes softly, whimpering.
“You may not deserve it,” Helstrom says. “But that vast emptiness shall not be judged. No…”
“Today, it shall be consumed by flame. The time has come. Prepare yourself.”
Helstrom disappears in a blinding flash of light.
Mez weakly lifts his head up.
And then it’s upon him again: the anger, the hatred.
He cries out as the waves of darkness send his body into furious contortions.
Warden Johnson and a team of orderlies enter the room to prepare him for the battle to come.
HELSTROM VS. MEZ
Will The Knight of Balance harvest another soul, or is The Madman a soulless husk!?
Helstrom is no small being, but even it has to look up into the fiery eyes of Mez, who towers over it. Hiding in the monster’s shadow, as always, Warden Johnson slaps the apron and yells encouragement to his heavily-medicated patient.
DING! DING! DING!
Mez dashes across the ring with a snarl. Frighteningly fast for his size, he swings at Helstrom – but the aeons-old samurai ducks it! Helstrom doubles the beast over with a swift knee to the ribs, then clubs him across the back. It hits the ropes and rams into Mez with a clothesline – but it’s not enough to take him down!
Helstrom backs up and collides with a second big clothesline, yet it merely rocks the psychopath. Third time’s the charm!?
NO – ANARCHY!
Patient 10034 steamrolls Helstrom with the Thesz press! He rears back and hammers The Executioner with thunderous lefts and rights, as Johnson bays for blood.
The warden calls Mez off of his victim. The Madman bides his time in the corner while Helstrom claws his way onto all fours—
The knee to the temple knocks the Yōkai out cold! Johnson orders Mez to cover him.
Any mortal man would’ve succumb to the lunatic, but Helstrom is something else!
Mez backs up into the corner once more. Helstrom slowly crawls to the ropes and uses them to pull itself up—
HELSTROM DIVES OUT OF THE WAY!
MEZ SPEARS THE TURNBUCKLE HEAD-FIRST!
HIS HEAD CRACKS INTO THE STEEL POST!
The violent impact dents the helmet of Mez. With some effort, he frees himself and staggers backwards. He turns around…
Helstrom decks Mez—
—Then drives its knees into the back of his head!
Johnson pulls his hair out at ringside as Helstrom finally floors the monster.
Mez may be too beyond help to realise he’s had enough!
Helstrom leans against the ropes and raps its knuckles on its armour; the scales of the dragon god, Ryujin, have kept it safe against Mez’s onslaught.
Mez gets to his feet groggily, as Helstrom tears into the ropes…
The Executioner destroys Mez with a blazing BUSAIKU KNEE!
Helstrom emerges victorious in this hard-hitting monster-mash!
PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE
The roar of Banzan echoes in a lush garden in China. But Banzan himself is nowhere to be found, unless one were to look at the ground.
He has become part of it, wrestled by the very roots beneath him to become part of the earth he voyages upon. Only his head sticks out.
A small courtesy from the Cryptkeeper.
The voice of Aesop calls out as the white-haired man runs into the garden. Banzan looks up at him with relief.
“How did you…” He pants.
“Cryptkeeper told me where you were.” Aesop answers, regarding the situation. He eyeballs one of the prominent roots, and leans over.
“No.” Banzan says, his tone more peaceful. “Our foe sent you here with purpose.”
The roots seem to tighten, but Banzan doesn’t flinch. His head begins to glow with an aura.
The Mountain Stance.
As his lifeforce begins to power him, protecting him from damage, Aesop looks pleased. After a moment, the roots begin to wither and die as Banzan annihilates them with the sheer force of the absorbed energy.
Soon, he’s laying in a crater of death.
But not his own.
“The Cryptkeeper toys with us.” Aesop comments as Banzan gets to his feet. “He burned the ancient texts. He said my past must die.”
“He said I must reclaim my past.” Banzan replies. “He offers us a puzzle.”
“But the solution is simple, as one would expect from a recorder. The Cryptkeeper is nothing without his tales to draw from.”
“Yes.” Banzan says, a glare on his face. “Our future is uncertain. But our past must be embraced and moved beyond.”
They begin to leave the garden.
“The Cryptkeeper is our present, my friend.” Aesop says. “His harsh lessons have ensured that he has no future.”
As they leave the garden, the image fades into mist, darkening into a black liquid that pools in a small container.
That a pen dips into.
The pen of the Cryptkeeper.
Who laughs as he writes in the Crypt.
The Judge awaits his opponent in the ring.
Three orbs of light orbit around him in perfect harmony.
Suddenly, Junkrat’s cackling voice booms through a microphone from where he stands at the top of the ramp.
“IT’S TIME TO WAKE UP AND SMELL THE NAPALM!” Junkrat shouts with a wild grin.
“YOU!” The Judge booms. “Disruptor of rituals. Defiler of the sacred. The time has come for you to answer for what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done, mate?” asks Junkrat. “I did it all for you. You think a fella like you can be a fella like you… without a fella like me?”
“I have no patience for the riddles of a lunatic,” The Judge says angrily.
“I’m the wick that makes the boom,” Junkrat says, walking towards the ring. “The flame that sparks the bang. And you!? You can’t even see it!”
With a flourish, Junkrat leaps onto the ring apron.
“If this is to be some kind of lesson,” The Judge says, “I’d rather not hear it.”
“Open your ancient ears,” Junkrat says. “Ever heard of the butterfly effect?”
“Chaos theory,” replies The Judge. “A quaint idea.”
“You ever think maybe your little yoga exercises and solitaire games…”
“My order practices neither of those trivialities!”
“…all your judgin’, weighin’, orderin’, balancin’…”
“The sacred duties of myself and my predecessors!”
“… only matter because someone is out here making the BIG BANG of chaos happen?”
Suddenly, The Judge goes quiet.
“Chaos, baby,” Junkrat says. “It’s what makes the world go around. And it’s a beautiful thing, ain’t it?”
The Judge contemplates for an instant, then replies: “You mean to say… that chaos is not the opposite of the universal order, but an essential part of it?”
“That between the anarchy of existence and the balance of a higher awareness… grows the beautiful flower that we call the universe?”
“You think you know everything,” says Junkrat. “But everyone can learn a little somethin’ from the ‘rat!”
“I have seen enough of you to last an infinite lifetime,” says The Judge. “You and I. Order and chaos. Opposites. Complements. Destined to dance forever, an infinite tug-of-war…”
“Just the spark that one another needs,” says Junkrat, grinning.
“Your nature is… troubling,” says The Judge. “But even the strangest creatures may possess great knowledge. You have taught me something, in your own way.”
Junkrat raises both eyebrows at The Judge, who has suddenly assumed an aggressive, fighting stance.
“Let us honor our essential natures… Let us worship at the altar of cosmic harmony… LET US FIGHT!”
JUNKRAT VS. THE JUDGE
Can chaotic neutral be judged!?
Junkrat reaches into his pants and pulls something out—
It’s a… playing card!?
He holds up the Joker card, then flips open a silver lighter in the other hand. He lights the card and tosses it at The Judge’s feet. He’s mocking the crystal-cards he caused The Judge to shatter in his own ritual!
The ancient Order lunges forwards and snatches Junkrat into a double-handed choke! He tosses him into the corner and pulverises him with his metallic fists. He whips him into the ropes and scoops him up into a military press slam! Judge hits the ropes himself and squashes Junkrat with a big splash!
Judge peels the Mayor of Gary off the canvas. He pulls him into a dominator—
A decoy explosive blinds and stuns The Judge, as Junkrat escapes certain doom. The pyromaniac cackles and cuts Judge down with a chopblock! He hits the ropes and, and…
JUNKRAT HITS JUDGE IN THE FACE WITH HIS NETHERS!
What the hell was that!?
The Judge powers out of the pinfall attempt. The unorthodox move seems to have shocked him more than subdued him.
He gets to his feet and paws at Junkrat, but the frenetic scavenger wraps around him—
TILT-A-WHIRL DDT – THE CONCUSSION MINE!
Junkrat spikes him into the mat, then points to the turnbuckle.
TIME FOR THE RIP-TIRE!
He climbs to the top rope, looking to hit the 450 splash, but The Judge is already back on his feet.
“STAY DOWN, YA BIG BASTARD!” Junkrat screams.
The Judge simply shakes his head. Junkrat goes to kick him, but Judge grabs his leg and slides him onto his shoulders! He ascends the ropes himself – still carrying Junkrat!
THE TOP-ROPE ELECTRIC CHAIR DROP!
Both men clatter onto the canvas with hellacious impact!
Junkrat just lifts his shoulder up!
Judge seems to sigh as his spiked shoulders heave. He looks down at the mat. The singed Joker card looks back at him, taunting him about his shattered crystals.
Reinvigorated, he snatches Junkrat by his wild hair and nestles his head between his thighs. It’s time for a little…
Judge snaps Junkrat in half with a brutal powerbomb!
The referee’s gavel comes down three times, and order prevails over chaos.
Gabriel Drake stalks the shadows of the backstage area, almost a shadow himself.
As he creeps, he reveals his fangs.
For standing before him is Major Thom, a fat cigar between his lips.
“Had a feeling I would find you somewhere like this,” Thom says.
“A feeling?” Drake asks. “How very odd for a monster like you, to have a feeling.”
Major Thom chuckles, nods. “Yeah, so here’s the thing, Dead-dick. I may or I may not have behaved monstrously over there, cooking in the desert. I don’t know. But I do know that I’m no monster.”
Major Thom puffs on the cigar. “But you? How many people have you bled in your life just to go without starving? See, if I ever hurt an innocent, I wasn’t in the right mind. You, on the other hand, your entire existence relies on killing.”
“Who are you trying to convince, Major?” Gabriel asks, a sneer spreading across his face. “Because it sounds to me as though you’ve merely fashioned a way for you to separate yourself from all the other killers in this world. But deep down, Major, you’re still a soldier. A cog, albeit an important cog, in the War Machine. You, sir, rely on killing as much as I.”
Thom snarls. Drake grins.
“But the time has drawn near for us real monsters to settle this. I look forward to seeing whether it is you or I who desires most to feast on the other’s blood.”
Drake, with the sound of fluttering bats, is gone.
Thom, nostrils flared, drops the last bit of his cigar on the floor and stomps it out.
GABRIEL DRAKE VS. MAJOR THOM
Tonight we have a bout between a Monster Hunter, and a Soldier he claims as his next target. It’s Gabriel Drake vs Major Thom. Falls will count anywhere!
DING! DING! Gabriel Drake and Major Thom begin to circle one another. Drake, smaller but faster than the towering Major, shoots in on Thom’s leg! Leg whip! That takes Thom down! Drake runs to the ropes!
SPRINGBOARD MOONSAULT — NO!!! THOM GETS BOTH KNEES UP!!!
Thom stands to his feet, and lifts Drake up by his hair. He shoves Drake’s head between his legs!
POWERBOMB OVER THE GOD DAMN TOP ROPE AND INTO THE GUARD RAIL!!! JESUS CHRIST!!!
Thom steps over the top rope and drops to the floor on the outside.
HE CLOTHESLINES DRAKE OVER THE GUARD RAIL AND INTO THE CROWD!!!
Thom steps over the guard rail and makes the cover!
Thom isn’t very surprised. He drags Drake up by the arm…
THE LORD’S SHADOW!!! THOM HITS THE FLOOR!!!
Drake sends boot after boot after boot into Major Thom’s head, neck, and chest.
He lifts Major Thom up to his feet.
But Thom with the GUERRILLA PRESS!!!
Drake kicks and flails wildly, frees himself and starts to fall behind Thom!
NECK BREAKER TO MAJOR THOM IN THE MIDDLE OF DRAKE’S DESCENT!!!
Major Thom kicked out just in the nick of time.
The Lord of Shadows shoves an audience member out of their seat, picks up the steel chair they were sitting in. Major Thom climbs to one knee!
Right across Major Thom’s back with the steel chair!!!
Major Thom is worn down! He falls onto his gut.
COBRA CLUTCH by Gabriel Drake!!! And since falls count anywhere, and these two are in the fucking audience, no ropes can save Thom from the hold.
And thusly, Thom has no way to fight this hold but to try and stand up!
Thom screams in agony! He desperately tries to force himself into a crawl position! Drake seems to allow him to do so…
But The Lord of Shadows locks the cobra clutch in even tighter on Major Thom!
The fans around them begin chanting, “WAR MACHINE! WAR MACHINE! WAR MACHINE!”
Major Thom forces himself up to a knee. Then the other!
HE STANDS TO HIS FEET!!!
THE CROWD ROARS!!!
BUT DRAKE TRANSITIONS IT TO A STANDING COBRA CLUTCH!!!
IT WAS A RUSE!!! THE REWIND CHAMPION ALLOWED HIM TO HIS FEET!!! FEAST OR FAMINE, THE COBRA CLUTCH BACKBREAKER!!!
DRAKE MAKES THE COVER!!!
The Monster Hunter adds another trophy to his case tonight, as he defeats Major Thom!!!
THE FINAL LETTER
A pair of hands open a crisp white envelope, revealing a letter within that’s read in the narration of an old female voice.
My Dearest Son,
I can’t anymore.
They’ve found out.
He’s coming for you.
Please be careful. Please don’t be taken in by his lies.
He’s a devil with a wicked tongue. He turns men into monsters and you’re already there. Please come back, please take the right path.
I love you,
AESOP & BANZAN VS. THE CRYPTKEEPER
TWO V ONE MATCH
Next up – the Tag Team Champions square off with the Cursed, does the book have anything written of 2 on 1 confrontation? Get the quill because it will shortly!
Banzan and Keeper meet in the center of the ring to start things off. Keeping a good distance away, Keeper picks his spot and initiates the tie up – Banzan quickly hurls him, flat on his back after turning the lock up into a hip toss. Banzan jumps into the Snake stance, catching The Cursed’s follow up attempt at another grapple, QUICK TOE KICK that was sure to snap some of Cryptkeepers brittle bones.
Banzan applies pressure and applies a shoulder lock, edging him closer to his partners corner. The Mountain attempts turn buckle head smash but its blocked! Eye rake! Banzan wrenches in pain! Irish whip! It’s coming up!
BEGINNING MIDDLE & END!
The big boot sends Banzan reeling!
He rolls to safety and Aesop sneaks in a tag!
Keepers waiting! Aesop wants a grapple; Keeper has a story to tell him! Arm drag! He covers!
ONE! TWO! NO!
Keeper transitions from the pin attempt into a side headlock. He’s wrenching away at Aesop’s head; whose arms are fully extended searching for a tag or a rope. Banzan’s recovered enough to come up with the save and returns to his corner, hoping he can get a quick tag.
The Cryptkeeper however maintains control within the ring, lifting Aesop into a bear hug STORY TIME!
He wisely moves him further and further away from his teams’ corner as he squeezes on the opposing story teller – whispering a lullaby of his own, into his ear.
A double slap breaks the hold and Keeper drops Aesop down to his feet, he has his own bear hug applied now! BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX!
Pin fall attempt!
ONE! TWO! NO!
Keeper has enough to kick out. Aesop pulls him up, pulling a grip of decayed hair out at the same time, Irish Whip!
ONE! TWO! NO!
Aesop decides to hand the reigns over to his partner, tagging in Banzan and the two Irish Whip, looking for the Tag Clothesline! Keeper ducks! He gets there before they can both turn around!
Huge impact in the center of the mats as all three men crash in unison, the Tag Champions electing to roll out of the ring to safety in order to regroup as the official begins the 10-count.
Banzan tags in looking to meet a readied Cryptkeeper, he is firing absolute missiles at a dodging Banzan – left, left, right, left all miss their target.
Banzan dodges, right into DUKKHA!
Suffering INDEED Exists!!!
ONE! TWO! NO!
Keeper survives by the skin of his…. well, the skin of his something alright. Aesop charges in after a tag and he appears tired of his fellow chronicler’s fortitude.
He looks to be FEELING GENEROUS after a kick to the gut!
Is this it?
Keeper’s in trouble!
But Aesop loses grip on one of his arms!
KEEPERS BACK ON HIS FEET!
HE’S GOING FOR GOLD!
HUGE EUROPEAN UPPERCUT!
Aesop’s limp body comes crashing down to the mat, too far for Banzan to get even close for the pin fall interference.
ONE! TWO! THREE!
Strength was, in fact not in numbers tonight. Cryptkeeper puts a curse on Fable and overcomes all odds in this brilliant Two Versus One match.
Absolute pitch black.
Suddenly, a light turns on.
One sole light in the middle of the room illuminates a chair with Helstrom sat on it. He’s captive, his hands and feet bound.
“We need to talk,” a voice says, emanating from off screen. It’s a hardened voice, one perhaps tormented by tragedy.
“I told you, kid, I’m not responsible,” Helstrom angrily replies. It’s like he’s been asked the same question repeatedly.
Just then, Jessie Williams appears in frame.
“I don’t believe you. I watched a hellacious force rip apart my Uncle Matty and I’ve asked around; I was pointed in your direction.”
“You think I took his soul?” Helstrom scoffs.
“He says you did,” Jessie replies.
“I don’t who know he is, but I know he’s lying. It’s no use, kid. You can tie me to this chair, you can torture and maim me, but you cannot kill me. Whatever you do, the answer will remain the same.”
“You obviously don’t know who I am. My name is Jessie…. Williams.”
Helstrom visibly gulps.
“That’s better,” Williams growls. “Now I watched my Uncle die gruesomely in the middle of that ring. I watched him dragged to hell. You can’t tell me that you have nothing to do with it, Tadoshi.”
Jessie pulls a book from his back pocket and begins reading.
“Hoc daemonium sit infernum remittuntur. Animam suam redire unde venerate.”
“What are you doing?” He barks, fearful.
“I’m sending you back to hell,” Williams angrily says, kneeling before him. “Isn’t that what you want, demon?”
“Hoc daemonium sit infernum remittuntur. Animam suam redire unde venerate.”
A mighty scream.
And he’s gone.
Jessie closes up his book and walks back into the darkness.
“Are you sure that I did the right thing?” He asks a figure we cannot see.
MARVOLO II VS. SEESAW
We cut back to the Toybox, where Marvolo’s timer continues to count down, now down to mere seconds. The Double Feature Championship will be fought inside THE TOYBOX, our feed coming from CCTV cameras. And inside the Toybox, anything goes… Your playtime is only limited by your imagination.
As the timer hits zero, Marvolo looks about him, searching for his opponent. But it is SeeSaw that finds him, dropping from the sky, from the lid of the toybox and taking Marvolo II out!
PLAYTIME HAS BEGUN!
MARVOLO II IS IN FOR SOME KIND OF HELL!
Marvolo is aware enough to scramble to his feet, only to be swept up by Marvolo, who slams his head into a side wall. Marvolo crumbles to the ground from the force of the impact and is kicked in the head for his troubles.
SUPERFINE TURBINE BLAST!
MARVOLO IS DRIVEN INTO THE WALL THEN DROPPED TO THE FLOOR OF THE TOYBOX!
SEESAW HAS COME TO PLAY!
AND HE PLAYS NASTY!
SeeSaw is laughing uncontrollably as he descends on Marvolo again. It is all Marvolo can do to stick a thumb in SeeSaw’s eye to give himself some breathing room. He staggers to his feet and groggily escapes to the other side of the toybox. SeeSaw comes after him but Marvolo II tosses a plush bear at his foe to distract him. By the time SeeSaw has tossed it aside, Marvolo is nowhere to be seen.
MARVOLO CAME OUT OF NOWHERE AND TAKES SEESAW OUT!
SeeSaw crashes into a wall of the Toybox and Marvolo follows suit, barraging him with a flurry of left and right shots to the body. Wild strikes that hit home with reckless abandon. SeeSaw pushes him away and the pair charge at each other.
DOUBLE CROSS BODY!
BOTH MEN TAKE EACH OTHER OUT, RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TOYBOX!
BOTH MEN ARE DOWN, AMIDST THE RUBBLE OF A HUNDRED TOYS!
SeeSaw is first to his feet and arms himself with a pair of die-cast model cars. He throws them at Marvolo II, who deflects them just in time with his Captain America shield that he had acquired. SeeSaw glowers and charges, but Marvolo bashes him across the face with the shield instinctively.
SEESAW IS BUSTED OPEN FROM THE SHIELD STRIKE!
BUT HE’S LAUGHING!
Marvolo swings the shield a second time, but SeeSaw catches it and wrenches it out of his grasp, tossing it away. SeeSaw then headbutts Marvolo for good measure, staggering him and sending a groggy Molvanian reeling backwards until the wall of the toybox stops him.
SEESAW NAILS MARVOLO TO THE WALL WITH A THROWING KNIFE!
THE KNIFE WENT STRAIGHT THROUGH HIS FUCKING HAND AND INTO THE WOOD!
THE OTHER HAND IS ALSO PINNED TO THE WOOD!
Staying true to his word to break Marvolo’s fingers, SeeSaw grips the index finger of Marvolo’s left hand and twists it into an unnatural angle, listening for the crack and subsequent scream of agony…
SEESAW JUST BROKE MARVOLO’S FINGER!
MARVOLO DROPS HIM WITH A KICK TO SEESAW’S OWN TOYBOX!
RIGHT IN THE MUMMY DADDY BUTTON!
Marvolo manages to pull a hand free from the wall and is busy wrenching the blade out of the second hand when SeeSaw reaches his feet again. He’s bleeding, his left hand in agony, but he knows he has to keep fighting.
SeeSaw closes in…
HE WRENCHES THE HAND FREE BUT TOO LATE!
SEESAW DRILLS MARVOLO INTO THE GROUND AWKWARDLY!
MARVOLO IS OUT COLD!
SeeSaw laughs with glee, kicking the lifeless Marvolo who makes no response. Then, a tear rolls down SeeSaw’s cheek. He screams in tantrum as he realises this means his playdate is over.
SeeSaw had Marvolo II’s number here tonight. He is STIIIIILLLL your Double Feature champion, but it took a devious creation of his own twisted mind to make it happen. If we have learnt anything, it is this, don’t break SeeSaw’s toys!
RAINY DAY PLAY
SeeSaw is victorious.
But that’s hardly the end of his night.
The deranged Double Feature Champion drags Marvolo II by the feet towards a workbench inside The Toy Box. He pulls him up and lays him down on top.
“Now, I wonder what we can do with you?” He says, musing to himself with his fingers at his chin.
Marvolo wakes up, eyes wide.
He doesn’t even get a chance to let out a scream before SeeSaw instinctively grabs a nearby hammer, crashing it across his skull.
Blood splatters everywhere, even on the face of the Mr. Make Believe.
So, he decides to tie him down.
“I need a new toy to play with,” he concludes. “Something that I can play with inside on those rainy days. Something better than the Freeman Blaster or the Freight Training Centre.”
He giggles gleefully.
“Something more fun.”
SeeSaw takes a knife and begins cutting into Marvolo, dragging his knife violently across flesh, ripping lumps of it out.
Marvolo II awakens, screaming in agony – he’s groggy, but not enough that he can’t feel the flesh being ripped from his bones.
Blood is spewing in all kinds of directions, leaking from the table to the floor, gushing in places.
SeeSaw though, he isn’t paying attention.
And finally, Marvolo II’s eyes roll into the back of his head.
The blood loss simply too much.
SeeSaw steps away with bloodied hands, dropping the knife.
“Tahdah!” He roars rapturously. We look down at the severely mutilated body of Marvolo II, who is now dead before us. “Marvoloperation!”
He slowly begins pulling organs from their slot, carefully extracting them onto the table.
Suddenly, his game is interrupted by a feint ticking down.
Before you know it, a large hole has been blasted into the side of the Toy Box. The force of the explosion knocks SeeSaw over, sending him sprawling across the room.
When the dirt, dust, smoke and debris has finally settled, only one man remains.
“Where’s that little bugger get to?” He yells, searching through the smoke for his tag team partner. “Oi, Marvolo, where the fuck are ya?”
What his eyes finally feast upon shocks him to his core.
He stumbles backwards, almost hurling.
SeeSaw rises, smiling.
“Did you want to play next?” He asks, grinning from ear to ear.
Junkrat carefully backs away, his eyes wide.
THE RED DEATH VS. SIGIL
Will the fallen hero see the truth, or be blinded by rage?
DING, DING, DING! The Red Death swipes at Sigil, who ducks it. The Collector stands with his hands behind his back. Death throws an elbow, but Sigil side-steps it. Once again, a swing and a miss for Death.
“I thought you said we were gonna fight!?” Death growls.
Sigil responds by raising one hand and motioning for Crimson Scourge to bring it.
Death screams and charges at him with a leaping knee, but Sigil evades it and sweeps his legs, flooring him.
“That red mist clouds your every move.” Sigil tells a kneeling Death. “But I’ll help you see straight…”
Death slumps face-first into the canvas.
DEATH KICKS OUT!
There’s far too much hatred in his veins to give up that easily! Death shakes off the cobwebs and sprints at Sigil – who fells him with a drop toe-hold! Sigil quickly transitions—
ON WOUNDED LEGS!
He’s got the CALF CRUSHER locked in!
Death gnashes his teeth and punches the mat as pain replaces the venom coursing through his body. Sigil clamps down with everything he’s got. He’s trying to remove the Darkness Falls curb stomp from Death’s gameplan!
The referee asks Death if he quits. The Dark Reaper grabs him by the shirt, pulls him close, and howls “NOOO!” right in his face!
Reaching in vain for the ropes, Death changes gears. His hand shoots to his utility belt…
AND HE STABS SIGIL IN THE SHOULDER WITH A REDBLADE!
Sigil cries out in pain—muffled by his mask—and releases the hold. The official wrestles with ending the match, but given Sigil’s own abilities, chooses not to.
The Realm Walker pulls the blade out. Scarlet droplets fall upon the mat. A wounded Sigil slowly gets up—
ONLY TO RETURN TO ARKHAM!
Red Death hits the DOUBLE UNDERHOOK DDT!
TH—BLOODIED SHOULDER UP!
Sigil moans in agony, a crimson patch marking where his shoulder was pinned to the floor. Death backs up into the corner – he’s got him right where he wants him!
Sigil slowly gets to all fours. Clutching something, Death makes a laboured run at him…
SIGIL TELEPORTS – BUT DEATH THROWS A REDBLADE INTO HIS PORTAL!
Death laughs, having psyched out Sigil. He knew he couldn’t hit the curb stomp, he just needed an opening!
The portal reopens behind him—
BUT SIGIL EMERGES, HOLDING THE BLADED WEAPON!
HE HURLS IT AT RED DEATH, WHO INSTINCTIVELY CATCHES IT—
SIGIL SENDS HIM FLYING WITH THE MASSIVE RUNNING DROPKICK!
Sigil defeats The Red Death with the use of his own Redblade – but has he opened his eyes!?
THE LONG WALK
Moments after their match and Sigil stands over The Red Death, holding a hand out to him.
“Follow me if you want to see the truth,” he says, helping Death back to his feet.
Sigil opens a portal and they both step through it, immediately being transported to Enigma Headquarters.
“I’m unable to use my powers inside The Slaughterhouse,” Sigil reminds him, removing his watch from inside a pocket. “If you follow me on this journey, there’s no going back. Do you trust me?”
Reluctantly, The Red Death nods.
There’s a wild green glow that slowly begins emerging, not only from the watch but from Sigil himself. Bill steps back in awe, watching as Sigil holds the watch in front of them, channelling himself within it.
Suddenly, everything changes.
Enigma HQ is gone.
They’re in the middle of Bill Kirby’s house.
It’s the night of their murders.
“No!” Death exclaims. “Not this.”
“Watch,” Sigil demands.
Tied to a chair in the living room, Bill’s wife Sarah sobs and bellows. She has tears streaming down her face and a gag secured around her sobbing mouth.
Opposite her, wielding a knife, is none other than Luke Storm.
Bill drops to his knees.
He watches as Storm approaches his wife and violently and ruthlessly begins stabbing her.
Kirby cries, sobbing himself as those of his wife slowly fade out.
“Before Storm became a movie star, he worked for some unsavoury people. Those people promised him a big role in a big film if he completed one last job; this was the job. His entire career was based off of this moment.”
Before you know it, they’re back in Enigma HQ.
Bill Kirby sits on the floor, having not moved an inch. Everything Edward Newton has ever told him has just been confirmed.
Sigil taps him on the shoulder, deciding to leave him alone.
He exits the house to the outside, where a figure appears from the shadows.
“Unbelievable,” he says.
“That was incredible,” Flavo says in utter awe. “I’ve never seen it done. You channelled your powers in an unbelievable way. You created a timeline.”
“The façade of one,” Sigil interrupts. “It wasn’t real. I went back in time and changed specific details of the event as he knew it.”
“That’s why you procured hair from Luke Storm’s hairbrush?” Flavo asks, applauding at the same time. “You used his DNA to insert him into the timeline?”
Sigil slowly walks away, still glowing with a slight green hue.
“It dawned on me, Flavo; with this watch, I control time. I can use it, bend it, shape it and investigate it at my will. Just like you can with reality, I can with time.”
Flavo steps forward with a warning.
“Remember, Viridi is connected to you; he is connected to that timepiece. I warned you at the start that a piece of those who wield it become connected to it. Not only can he expose you, but with the remnants of power he retains, he can war with you. You may have the timepiece but he is stronger; he has generations of power under his belt.”
Sigil turns to face him, tilting his head.
“I did as you asked; I assembled a team. I’m ready.”
“Soon,” Flavo adds.
Terrifying waters, pelting rain, the rocking of an old wooden ship against the waves.
Scrimshaw’s old ship.
Pocket Sand stands tall as both men stand around a wooden table inside of the ship’s back cabin. Scrimshaw looks to Pickpocket before looking to a crew of pirates around them, all of them wearing hoods to hide their heads from the rain outside.
Scrimshaw speaks solemnly, looking out at the crowd around them.
“I know it was tough to say yes. But I thank ye for joinin’ me an’ Pocket as we set sail. We have to hide from Imperium for quite some time. We have something they want, that they need, and we simply can’t let’em get their hands on it.”
There is some murmuring in the crowd as they chatter amongst themselves.
“I assure you, we will pay you handsomely for the long journey. Isn’t that right, Pocket?”
Scrimshaw looks to his first mate, the plucky young thief nodding his head.
“Yeah! It ain’t much, but we brought some cash from one or two of my old hiding spots to fund the… I guess unwanted cruise. We have food for two weeks… there’s a lot of bananas because I let BJ help me pick stuff up. BUT! Those are high in potassium!”
There is even more murmuring, many of the crew looking less than thrilled at the information. Scrimshaw slams his hand on the table, silencing the room.
“This was last minute, you knew it was. If you have anything that needs sayin’, you best speak up now. We’re a crew, and ain’t no crew of mine goin’ to sit quiet when they should have the balls to speak their mind.”
More murmuring, then a… terrifyingly familiar voice speaks up.
“We do have something to say. This, Scrimshaw, is a mutiny.”
Two hoods are thrown back to reveal Imperium. Alton Whitlock and X stand in the room, two smug smiles on their faces. Whitlock signals to the crew, all of them throwing off their hoods and cloaks to reveal rifles and bullet proof vests with the words Imperium Sect on them. Whitlock chuckles and walks around the table with X, the men now between Pocket Sand and the door.
“A mutiny, boy?”
Whitlock merely nods his head as Pickpocket readies to fight, the young lad signaling for BJ to scamper off for his own safety.
“Me and the Captain don’t take kindly to mutinies… right, Captain?”
Scrimshaw merely nods his head.
And with just those few words being said, it seems a battle is on the way.
X & WHITLOCK VS. PICKPOCKET & SCRIMSHAW
TAG TEAM MATCH
Pocket Sand is surrounded by Imperium and their hired thugs inside of the rear of the ship! Alton Whitlock radiates an aura of smug as he walks forward, hand outstretched to Scrimshaw.
“We’ve won, give it up.”
Pickpocket reaches inside of his vest, digging for the USB-
AND COMES OUT WITH POCKET SAND!
An arc of the grittiest you’ve ever seen hits the eyes of every single member of Imperium in that room! Whitlock screams out in pain and Scrimshaw grabs hold of his head!
AND HIS HEAD MEETS TABLE! BY GOD! SCRIMSHAW JUST SPLINTERED THE EDGE OF THAT OLD MAHOGANY TABLE!
Whitlock is down and Pocket Sand both rush forward and smash into X! They both lift him up!
DOUBLE DASHED ON THE ROCKS! DOUBLE SPINEBUSTER INTO THE DOOR AND ALL THREE MEN ARE NOW OUTSIDE OF THE CABIN AND SPRAWLED ON THE DECK!
Scrimshaw and Pickpocket are the first to their feet but X seems almost unfazed by the massive move! He rises to his feet and Alton Whitlock soon joins by his side! Both men rush forward with stereo clotheslines that drop Pocket Sand for a few moments and when they get up they rush again! Bionic armed Superman Punch to Pickpocket, flying knee to Scrimshaw!
Whitlock is directing traffic as he points for X to take on Scrimshaw while the politician himself grabs hold of Pickpocket! He lands a vicious knee to the side of his head before grabbing him and whipping him towards the stairs to the main deck- No! Pickpocket stops short and pushes off of the railing!
HE BACK FLIPS BEHIND WHITLOCK! DAYLIGHT ROBBERY! A MASSIVE FUCKING LARIAT SENDS BOTH MEN TUMBLING DOWN THE STAIRS AND THEY LAND IN A HEAP ON THE GROUND!
Both men are down and with that we find X has already peeled Scrimshaw up and isn’t scared to use that arm to his advantage! Blow after blow lands to Scrimshaw’s face! Haymakers, elbows, forearms! Scrimshaw tries to futilely block the blows but X won’t let up!
SPINNING BACK FIST FROM X! SCRIMSHAW IS BUSTED OPEN! HIS NOSE LOOKS LIKE IT’S JUST FUCKING EXPLODED!
The salty sea captain is sent sprawling down the stairs and he lands in a heap next to the mast! X walks towards him to finish the job when Scrimshaw slowly begins to rise! He throws off his jacket and licks the blood from his beard as he places on two pairs of brass knuckles!
“Round two, boy.”
Before X can react he is blasted with a barrage of bestial boxing blows that looks like they could shatter bone! He throws X into the mast and lays into him with a plethora of blows!
WOODEN CHAIR FROM WHITLOCK TO THE BACK OF SCRIMSHAW! THE STOOL IS IN PIECES AS IT BREAKS ACROSS SCRIMSHAW’S BACK!
The captain drops to a knee and Whitlock brutalizes him with the wooden stakes leftover from the stool! He stabs one right into Scrimshaw’s rib cage! The captain howls with pain as blood drips from the new wound! He grabs hold of Scrimshaw’s head and goes for the neck!
CAPTAINS HOOK! CAPTAINS HOOK FROM… PICKPOCKET!? WHITLOCK IS DRAGGED BACKWARDS AND PICKPOCKET LOCKS IN THE PAINFUL HEADLOCK!
Scrimshaw rolls away from the fight and pulls the stake out of his side! As he rises to his feet X has done the same! The cyborg goes to help Whitlock, but as Scrimshaw barrels towards him he avoids the only way he can!
By going up!
X crawls up the mast and high into the sails with Scrimshaw now hot on his tail as they ascend to the top of the ship! Meanwhile, back on the ground, Whitlock slips from Pickpocket’s grasp with a thumb to the eye! Both men get to their feet and a brawl breaks out with rights and lefts traded back and forth by both men!
And up above, on the sails themselves, are Scrimshaw and X! The two warriors are vicious as they have the world’s most dangerous boxing match! Neither man can get an advantage on the other!
UNTIL SCRIMSHAW DODGES A BLOW! HE GRABS A NEARBY ROPE AND WRAPS IT AROUND X’S BIONIC ARM! HE KICKS X IN THE RIBS AND SENDS HIM BACKWARDS WITH ALL OF HIS MIGHT!
X’S ARM HAS BEEN TORN FROM HIS BODY! X’S BIONIC ARM IS FUCKING GONE!
The robotic limb falls to the ground below and X yells in pain! Scrimshaw goes for the end! He wants X DEAD. HE wraps the rope around X’s body and goes to kick him off!
BUT X WRAPS IT AROUND HIS NECK AS HE DROPS!
Both men are now dangling from the rope! Scrimshaw by his neck above! And a slumped over X around his body below!
On the ground Pickpocket and Whitlock are locked up, but Pickpocket is filled with determination as he knees Whitlock in the gut!
CARRIED AWAY! MASSIVE FACE BUSTER TO THE DECK!
Whitlock is busted open and Pickpocket can go to put him down for good! He turns to find Scrimshaw and sees him hanging from the sails above!
He tries to rush over and scale the mast!
BUT WHITLOCK IS UP! HE GRABS PICKPOCKET FROM BEHIND AND PULLS HIM IN! THE BETTER WORLD! VERTEBREAKER! GOD DAMN VERTEBREAKER!
The sound of Pickpocket hitting the deck is sickening, but Whitlock looks more than pleased with himself as he moves to his feet and calls for his men to finish the job. The mercenaries surround the downed Pickpocket, but as Whitlock goes to gloat about his victory-
BJ RUNS ACROSS THE RAILING OF THE SHIP! HE LEAPS ONTO WHITLOCK’S FACE AND THE POLITICIAN GETS SENT OVERBOARD! HE’S JUST BARELY HANGING ONTO THE EDGE OF THE SHIP!
The monkey is grabbed by a mercenary as BJ tries to make his escape, easily thrown onto Pickpocket’s unconscious body!
The match may be over, and Whitlock was the last man standing. But now, no one is safe.
Everyone is in serious peril.
As Whitlock’s men surround Pickpocket, Scrimshaw violently hangs from the mast of his ship.
Likewise, X has a rope wrapped around his mid-section that’s squeezing the life out of him as he tries to stop himself from being dragged over board with one arm.
Whitlock is no-where to be seen.
Suddenly, Pickpocket is grabbed and thrusted against the ship, held there by his throat.
“Wait!” A voice bellows.
It belongs to Alton Whitlock, who clambers back over the edge of the ship having held on when thrown over.
Whitlock is quickly assisted by his men, who help him back on board.
“Cut him down,” he says pointing a Scrimshaw.
Only he has to double take.
The Captain has stopped moving. He’s pale and lifeless.
Hanging there from the mast of his own ship, Captain Scrimshaw is no longer for this world.
When Pickpocket notices, he bellows in agony, dropping to his knees.
Alton slaps his head, absolutely horrified.
He didn’t want this.
“Help,” a voice whimpers from across the boat. It belongs to X, who struggles with one hand to try and loosen the ropes that constrict him at the midsection.
Whitlock and his men rush over, trying to help.
Only they’re fighting a losing battle. The rope X is connected to has ended up in the water, wrapped around the ship.
“Tell me what to do!” Whitlock pleads. “Someone get a knife. Quickly!”
As the men search the ship, Alton is left watching as X is slowly pulled up.
There’s a violent splash as X hits the water. Whitlock immediately panics, unsure of what to do.
He’s going in after him.
The Politician dives over the edge and follows X into the water. We travel with him, watching as he spots X being dragged under the ship.
The barnacles beneath the boat rip him to pieces. The water is filled with blood before you know it.
The horror on Whitlock’s face is palpable as X is torn to shreds, Keelhauled beneath Scrimshaw’s ship.
He swims back to the surface, using the rope stairs to climb back aboard.
He’s soaking wet and freezing cold, but there’s a dead look in his eyes.
What he just saw, he won’t ever forget.
As his men rush to his aide, he pushes past them to Pickpocket.
“You!” He growls. “Give me the flash drive!”
Pick, absolutely distraught himself, tosses it to him.
“I don’t know what’s on this, but whatever it is, two people just lost their lives for it.”
Whitlock turns around to his crew, looking overboard.
“Retrieve his body,” he barks angrily. “I’m not leaving here without it.”
STORM & NEWTON VS. BEG & MARK GOULDERN
BURIED ALIVE MATCH
Engima vs. Imperium is a war that has rattled through the halls of OSW for months building up to a final confrontation here tonight. Will Imperium prove their superiority or will they be just another pair of victims who couldn’t solve the impossible riddle?
We fade into the eerily calm night, a large empty grave site just barely illuminated by the rays of the moon as a pair of figures slowly walk into view, the first gripping a steel diamond tipped cane in one hand while the other is meticulously typing calculations into his forearm, barely noticing the fact that they’re all alone. A fact that Green hasn’t ignored by the cocky ass smile on his face, resting one hand on the excavator at the head of the grave.
“See what did I tell ya Mark, bunch of little pussy ass bitches too scared to face their own demise.”
Gouldern doesn’t reply, his eyes simply go wide as he quickly pulls BEG to the side as a razor sharp object goes flying through the space where BEG’s forehead was mere seconds ago, embedding into a nearby tree. Imperium barely get to look back at the jigsaw piece before thick smoke fills the nearby area, both men barely able to breath let alone see the rushing figure.
The smoke dissipates as Luke Storm appears looming over BEG with a cocky grin plastered on his face.
“Wasn’t scared enough to knock you the fuck out…bitch”
Storm looks up, winking at Edward Newton who just shakes his head, his right hand dragging a dazed Gouldern by the turtleneck but the brief lapse of concentration allows Gouldern to slip out of Newton’s grasp as he rolls back with ease, before Tele-Leaping forward.
Newton gets his clock cleaned by the Superman Punch as Storm rushes forward, swinging with lefts and rights that Gouldern manages to duck and weave away from with the help of Telaris. A stiff kick to the gut stuns Storm before an arm is wrapped around his head as he’s lifted up high with one arm.
PLANNNED…STORM SLIPS OUT, DELIVERING A STIFF DROPKICK TO THE FACE THAT SENDS HIM CRASHING TO THE DIRT. Storm turns around right into the cold sharp blow of diamond exploding into his face as he crashes to the ground, a furious BEG looming over him as he turns the cane before pulling it across the throat of Storm and begins to choke him out with it.
Storm’s face is turning red as he tries to pull BEG off him but he begins to slowly fade away as the air is forced from his lungs.
SHOVEL TO THE SKULL!
The Riddler with the save as BEG collapses to the ground, his bell having been completely rung by the steel to the face as Newton pulls Storm to his feet before tossing him another shovel.
“Let’s finish this shall we?”
Storm nods, as the pair turn around right into an onrushing Gouldern.
THE DISRUPTION…RIGHT INTO A SHOVEL! That sends shockwaves down Gouldern’s arm, a slight spark going through his TeleGauntlet causing a slight moment of pause for the Herald as both Newton and Storm raise the shovels high.
CON-SHOVE-TO! Both shots hit flush as blood pools down both Gouldern’s face and the back of his skull, the herald collapsing to the ground barely concious if he’s lucky as Green staggers up into a flurry of lefts and rights from Storm, before a massive knee to the jaw sends Green crashing to the dirt, slowly trying to crawl away before he’s stopped by Storm with a handful of hair. Storm goes to pull him to his feet as BEG rakes his hand through the dirt.
DIRT IN THE EYES! Storm staggers back blind but Green can’t take advantage as Newton is on him with a stiff boot to the jaw before he lifts him up onto his shoulders, raining down elbows into the unprotected skull of Green as he walks forward before pausing for a moment.
ENGIMA THEOREM INTO THE OPEN GRAVE! GREEN COULD GET BURIED ALIVE HERE!
Storm turns to the excavator to begin filling in the grave but Newton waves him off, pointing at a rising Gouldern. Storm just shrugs his shoulders, picking up the shovel dropped on the dirt as he goes to finish off Gouldern but Storm barely gets a few feet before he stumbles and drops the shovel, as a large blade is embedded into his shoulder.
BEG THREW HIS FREAKING CANE KNIFE AT STORM! Storm looks back furious as Green flips him off before screaming at a groggy Gouldern.
“HAIL MARY MARK, INITIATE THE GODDAMN HAIL MARY!”
Storm pulls the cane out of his shoulder, tossing it aside before turning back to a rising Gouldern and swinging the shovel with all his might
AS GOULDERN CATCHES IT IN HIS TELEGAUNTLET! Storm struggles under the grip as Gouldern rises to his feet, a feminine voice echoing throughout the night sky
High Performance Mode…Engaged.
With those words, the TeleGauntlet crushes the shovel effortlessly before tossing it aside. Storm looks at the crumpled steel in shock for a moment before rushing forward with a flurry of lefts and rights that Gouldern easily dodges, Newton joining in but they may as well be moving in slow motion compared to the now supercharged Gouldern who kicks forward with the force of a charging elephant and sends Storm flying with a simple front kick. Newton uses the distraction to land a hard right hand to the jaw of Gouldern that barely affects the adrenaline boosted Herald.
Before he responds with a right of his own that damn nearly breaks Newton’s jaw. Blood spews across the dirt along with a tooth or two as Newton is now the one on his knees, scrambling for something, anything to fight against the amped up Gouldern who’s slowly stalking the Riddler as he begins to pull himself up by something embedded into the dirt at the foot of the grave.
You can hear the gears and synapses firing as Gouldern rears back, flying forward with a massive right hand as The Riddler pulls the stone up, swinging it with all his might.
THE DISRUPTION RIGHT THROUGH THE GRAVE STONE! The TeleGauntlet slams through the stone right into the Riddlers face busting him wide open with a single blow as Gouldern grabs Newton by the back of the head before driving right after right into Newton, rendering him a bloody broken mess, barely recognisable under the mask of gore. Gouldern finally lets up, grabbing the limp Newton by the back of his lapel as he drags him towards the casket, opening it with one hand.
BEFORE TOSSING NEWTON INSIDE AND CLOSING THE LID!
Gouldern falls to one knee upon doing so, the High Performance Mode beginning to take it’s toll but he still has strength left in him as he staggers over to the grave, powering Green out of the grave before collapsing to a seated position, breathing heavily as Combat 2.0 shuts itself down. Green pats Gouldern on the mat, a wide grin on his face.
“Very nice Mark, you take a break, I’ll finish off the King Bitch and then we can finally put these assholes on ice forever”
Green walks over to Storm who got sent into a nearby tree from the force of that Gouldern kick, the Storm King half embedded into the rotting trunk as BEG yanks him out with little regard for his safety before mounting him and beating down on Storm with a fury of lefts and rights. Storm can barely defend himself and a savage right hook takes all the fight out of him before Green flips him over,
LOCKING IN THE FINANCIAL CRISIS!
Storm would never tap out but that doesn’t matter in this match as Green is just using the crossface to inflict more punishment on his hated rival, arching back with the hold as Storm screams in pain, screams that slowly die out as the Real Deal slowly but surely passes out. Green keeps the hold on for a few moments more, just to be a dick before finally letting go as he gets to his feet, pulling the unconcious Storm across the dirt, tossing him to the side
BEFORE LIFTING THE LID OF THE EMPTY COFFIN?
Green looks confused, turning to Gouldern with a perplexed look as Mark gulps visibly, pointing behind Green who slowly turns around
RIGHT AS A GRAVE STONE IS BROKEN OVER HIS FUCKING HEAD!
Blood pours down Green’s face as rock and stone shatters all over the ground, BEG looks out but he’s still on his feet, face to face with a furious enraged Edward Newton who’s in the zone that destroyed everyone else that dared fight him. Newton grabs Green by the tie, pulling him in for a series of hard punches one after the other, bouncing Green’s head off his fist like a ping pong ball before a sickening right hook sends Green down to the canvas. Newton looks to finish him off
Gouldern is on his feet, delivering a huge dropkick that even at ten percent power would be enough to put down any wrestler but Newton barely stumbles at the move, his rage fueling him as he drops Gouldern with a massive headbutt before lifting him up to his feet, damn near foaming at the mouth.
LOW BLOW! NEWTON DAMN WELL FELT THAT! The Riddler drops to his knees, his rage diminishing as Gouldern tries to scramble away, running right into
A HUGE LIGHTNING STRIKE!
Storm is still woozy so the Superkick doesn’t hit fully but it hits enough to leave Gouldern out on his feet as he stumbles right into the grip of Newton who grips him by the head
NEVERMIND! NEWTON KNOCKS GOULDERN THE FUCK OUT WITH THE NEVERMIND DDT! Newton picks up the unconscious Gouldern, tossing him unceremoniously into the coffin as Green gets to his feet, wiping the blood out of his eyes as he sees the two forces standing tall.
And tries to peace the fuck out.
Storm goes to chase him but Newton stops him, grabbing out another jigsaw piece from his jacket and throwing it at Green. It explodes upon contact as a thick steel cable wraps itself around Green before an electrical pulse flows through BEG, forcing him to his knees in pain as Newton and Storm casually walk over to him. Newton bends down, getting a thick gobule of spit in his face for his troubles as Green refuses to go down without a fight.
“You won this round Riddler but Imperium will fucking bury you in the end. You’re nothing compared to us, NOTHING…”
DOUBLE SUPERKICK! Just as Storm hit Green on the right with a Lighting Strike, Newton hit him on the left with a picture perfect Superkick of his own, Storm looking impressed as Newton simply motions for him to pull Green up as they drag him back to the coffin, tossing him inside with Gouldern before shutting the lid and sliding the coffin into the open grave. Newton hops into the excavator and with slight hesitation, raises the bucket up and fills in the grave, burying Imperium alive!
Enigma do it here, going through an almighty war as they bury BEG and Mark Gouldern alive here tonight, dealing Imperium some very Grave Consequences
THE LONG WALK II
As Luke Storm and Edward Newton stand victorious, out of breath and exhausted, they share a glance.
Suddenly, Luke Storm falls backwards, as if he’s been hit by a fucking truck.
He topples over into the dirt, groaning in agony.
Edward looks stunned.
We turn back around to see the barrel of a gun, smoking.
And the wielder?
The Red Death.
Bill storms over towards Luke Storm, standing over him, the pistol aimed at his head.
He’s going to finish the job.
The first shot hit him in the shoulder. He’s bleeding profusely, but he’s conscious.
“You did it!” Death yells. “I know you fucking did it!”
Edward Newton barely manages to kick the gun as he fires, watching in terror as the bullet fires into the ground next to Luke Storm’s head.
Luke scrambles away as Newton grabs Death, tossing him over the Gravestone behind them.
The World Champion immediately gets back to his feet and begins stumbling away as Newton picks up the fire arm that Death dropped when launched.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Newton says as Kirby gets back to his feet, prepared to go after Storm until he realizes the gun is now pointed at him.
“You’re protecting him!?” Death screams. “He killed my fucking family. I’m gonna kill him, you son of a bitch. I’m done waiting. I’m done playing your fucking games; I’ve been pliant, I’ve been placid, I’ve been patient but enough is enough.”
We’ve never seen Kirby so irate. He’s normally obedient.
Edward walks over, reaching into his pocket as he does.
“I told you, didn’t I?” The Riddler says. “There’s a time and a place.”
Abruptly and suddenly, Newton injects Death in the neck with a green substance that immediately knocks him unconscious. As he falls to the floor, The Riddler grimaces.
“That was unexpected.”
Ten minutes have passed since Edward Newton had left the unconscious body of The Red Death when Alton Whitlock rocks up in a van, surrounded by henchmen.
“Get them out of there,” he bellows, pointing at the freshly dug grave that Mark Gouldern and Berkshire Ellison Green now reside.
Quickly, his team of twenty men get to work, digging them out.
Gasping for air, by the time the coffin lid is opened, both men are furious.
“What took you so long?” BEG demands to know, being pulled out of the grave first.
Mark Gouldern is next, both men looking a damn sight worse for wear.
“Did you get it?” Gouldern asks, looking towards Whitlock.
“You have no idea what’s happened, do you?” The Politician says. His demeanour is raw and aggressive. He’s angry. “He’s dead.”
“Who’s dead?” He enquires nonchalantly.
“X!” Whitlock responds angrily. “Your expendable part man machine; he’s dead.”
That shocks everyone.
Gouldern’s eyes widen.
BEG doesn’t even know what to say.
“And it’s all because of this?” He continues, holding up the flash drive he retrieved from Pocket Sand. “It’s all because of what’s on it. I’ve looked, Mark – it’s nothing to do with me or the Campaign. You’ve had us chasing them for your own selfish gains.”
BEG steps forward, apparently in on it.
“You had no right to look at that drive. We told you we’d make you President of the United States of America; we didn’t tell you how. Your job was to retrieve that drive and give it to Mark, not investigate.”
“MY job?” Alton angrily responds. “We’re expendable to you both, aren’t we?”
“Wait,” Gouldern pleads. “Look, that drive holds the key financial data of every rival you may face in the Campaign to become President. With it, I can manoeuvre our business interests to ensure they don’t have the capitol to compete with you.”
“With me? You mean with you,” The Politician says with disgust. “You’re going to steal their wealth for your own personal benefit, Gouldern. It’s clear.”
Suddenly, they’re at an impasse.
Whitlock heads back to the vehicle he arrived in, opening the door. Before he gets inside, he turns to face his fellow members of Imperium.
“X was a good man, a decent man. He just wanted answers. He wanted to know the truth and you promised him that. In the end, he was just an expendable tool to make the rich, richer.”
He circles his fingers and his men open the trunk of the car, dragging something from within.
It’s the corpse of X.
Mutilated beyond belief.
“Do the respectable thing and bury him,” Whitlock growls, getting into his car that shortly speeds off.
BEG and Gouldern look down at the body of X, then share a glance with one another.
“Is he going to be a problem?” Mark asks, referencing Whitlock.
“I’ll take care of it,” Green confirms.
What they don’t see is that having followed Alton Whitlock here, a certain inconsolable, infurited man hides in the shadows, watching.