TELEGON TOWERS OF DOOM I
The bustling busy headquarters of Mark Gouldern is jam packed with men and women coming and going – most looking strangely at the figure plodding through the entrance with a smile on his face.
He walks straight up to the receptionist, grinning profusely.
“Uh, hello sir,” he says taken aback. “How may I help you today?”
“Hi, my name is SeeSaw and I’ve come for a meeting with Mark Gouldern.”
He looks down at this computer.
“I’m afraid Mr. Gouldern doesn’t have any meetings planned today, sir. Would you like to leave him a message?”
SeeSaw’s goofy smile turns into a menacing frown.
“I think I’ll just go say hi.”
He turns around and walks straight into Security, who must’ve been alerted silently by the now terrified receptionist. SeeSaw turns to look at him with a disappointed shake of the head.
“Oh buddy, you didn’t need to do that.”
As one of the officers’ reach for him, he immediately grabs the arm, snapping it violently across his knee. That guy falls to the ground screaming, his arm floppy and flailing.
Another reaches for a taser, only SeeSaw leaps on top of him, biting him in the face. He gnaws at his cheek, spitting flesh out with a delightful smile.
It’s then he pops back up, pulling the Receptionist over the desk.
“My daddy told me I had to come in here and be such a professional, but who am I kidding? I don’t want a meeting with Mark; I just want to play.”
He angrily headbutts the poor receptionist, dropping him to the floor.
With people in attendance now running in every such direction, Mr. Make Believe walks through the now empty Security section towards an elevator. After a few second wait, he gets inside, giving us a big pearly white smile as he heads to the top of Telegon Towers.
DISPLEASED TO MEET YOU
Sat in his locker room, Brent Kersh is lacing up his boots. He’s got a six man tag match later on, mixing it up with his Invasion opponents. The door swings open to his locker room, and he looks up with a sigh.
“I figured you’d be dropping in.” The Enforcer offers as he gets to his feet.
Stood across from him is Sandy Rogers.
“Mr. Kersh, it’s so good to see you.” Rogers kindly offers, extending his hand.
Kersh just looks at it for an awkward moment before Rogers rescinds.
“Wish I could say the same, Rogers.” Kersh finally says. “But I’ve got a pretty good idea who and what you are.”
Sandy smiles and nods.
“You mustn’t listen to young Jessie. He seems confused about many things. I’ve tried to work with him.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Kersh replies. He looks Rogers up and down, growing stern.
“Let’s cut the crap, Rogers. I’ve dealt with too many of your types in my time. Polite smiles on the outside. Then the monster comes out.”
Rogers doesn’t react.
“Mr. Kersh, I’m sorry you feel that way.” He raises an eyebrow. “But from looking at the booking sheet, it seems you’re going to need a monster later tonight.”
“I don’t need any monster. When you’ve faced down the Scarecrow, it takes a lot to get me riled up. Just stay away from the kid, Rogers, got it?”
Kersh pushes past to leave the locker room when Rogers responds.
“I’d advise you to do the same, Brent.” Another smile. “I’m glad we got our meeting out of the way.”
Kersh rolls his eyes before leaving the room. Rogers looks at Kersh’s bag and just shakes his head.
THE PLAGUE RAT VS. CANDY KANE
Can this case be solved, or will it go cold!?
The Plague Rat piefaces Kane into the corner. He chokes her with his boot, then hurls her across the ring by her hair! The brawler leers over her prone form, then plucks her off the canvas effortlessly. He javelins her under the ropes, so that she crashes head-first into the metal fan barriers!
He follows her outside – no countouts here. The Pandemic lunges—DROP TOE-HOLD INTO THE STEEL STAIRS! Candy sends the sadist careening into the steps, splitting them in half. The Canary hops up onto them, negating their height difference… BLIND ALLEY! Skull-crushing finale on the concrete floor!
Candy runs her hands through her hair. She can’t haul the near 300-pounder into the ring for the cover. Resigning herself, she slides back in and lowers her kneepad. TPR pulls himself through the ropes. Kane takes a BIG GAMBLE – Rat side-steps the knee trembler! CONTAGIOUS – the pop-up Samoan drop!
ONE… TWO… SHOULDER UP! Candy digs deep. Plague pulls her up, then lifts her into a crucifix above his head. THE BLACK DEATH! Wait – Kane lands on her feet like a cat, avoiding the neckbreaker. The Dick hits a springboard… Rat’s PAYMENT is DEFERRED as Candy executes a modified backstabber! ONE… TWO… THREE!
The Canary defeats the Rat!
BEHIND DOOR #1
Plague Rat leans against the ropes hoping to catch his breath.
Suddenly, cheesy game show music seemingly from the 1970’s begins to play from the speakers. Plague Rat looks around, attempting to find out what the hell is going on.
Emerging from the crowd is Monty Straight, flashing his famous grin. As he hops into the ring, a microphone lowers down from the heavens, falling perfectly into the game show host’s hand.
“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the Show That Never Ends! I’m your host with the most, Monty Straight.”
Piped-in applause sounds through the Slaughterhouse.
“Tonight, our contestant is the famous Plague Rat, a man desperately trying get out of his brother’s shadow!”
Plague Rat angrily walks towards the host, but Straight holds out his hand.
“Easy, my friend, didn’t mean to ruffle any feathers. In fact, I’m here to offer you the deal of a lifetime. All you have to do is choose wisely. One of these doors will make all of your dreams come true.”
Suddenly, two doors appear in the ring.
Plague Rat reluctantly looks in their direction, but curiosity overtakes him.
“I choose door #1 you stupid son of a bitch,” TPR yells, walking towards the door. Before he steps through the door, he balls up his fist and punches Straight squarely in the jaw.
Plague Rat opens the door and enters, disappearing from the ring! The other door also disappears from the ring. Straight wipes some blood from his nose and smiles.
“Tune in next week to see if our friend chose wisely!”
Straight exists the ring as the cheesy music begins to play once again.
Mere moments before Reaper is due to make his way to the ring, he is stopped in his tracks by a familiar caped figure.
Redwing’s voice sounds confidently, yet somewhat apprehensive. Not sure of what grips the Red Mist has taken on Reaper, he looks at him with a sideways eye.
“I know what you’re going through. Of all people, I know.”
He stands toe to toe with Reaper, meeting eye to eye. Close enough to see the predatory gleam staring back. He continues nevertheless.
“I also know that like me, you’re still in there. Somewhere. Reach deep within yourself. Fight to the surface. You too can defeat this and become yourself.”
A long pause, neither man moves. Then, as quick as a flash and without warning, Reaper grabs Redwing by the throat. He hoists him off the air and slams him into a wall. His voice sounds somewhat like a hiss.
“I’m not weak like you. I see more clearly now than I ever have. The path that was so clouded is clear.”
He tightens his grip, listening to the gasping sound as Redwing begins to run out of air.
“They deserve vengeance and you’re the list. So, you die. It’s simple really.”
His face turns into a wild grin as he watches Redwing’s eyes widen. With a second hand, he presses even further, choking the life out of the Caped Crusader.
A figure blindsides Reaper. The Judge, pummeling the handle of his axe into Reaper’s ribs and causes him to drop Redwing. Like a shark being kicked in the gills, Reaper slinks off in the direction of the ring.
Judge says nothing, barely even looking at Redwing before he too takes his leave, leaving Redwing rubbing his neck and wondering if he had reached in to Reaper on any level.
THE REAPER VS. VOYNICH
Two men dig for answers about their families!
The Reaper eyes Voynich suspiciously. What skeletons are buried in the archaeologist’s closet? He aims to find out, overwhelming the adventurer with bone-breaking blows. He lobs him into the ropes… Powerslam! No rest for the wicked, as the Detroit resident huffs Voynich up into a military press slam! ONE… TWO… KICK OUT! This isn’t Voynich’s last voyage.
Reaper pulls him up. SWIFT REVENGE – NO! Voynich sandbags the single-arm DDT. He stomps on the hand of a prone Reaper; he needs a little Kryptonite for that Shotgun Blast Superman punch! The Austrian employs joint manipulation, twisting and stretching Reaper’s fingers! The bereaved family man screams in pain.
Best Kept Secret relents. He slaps his biceps, calling for the lariato! Reaper rises… but he dives out of the ISHTAR GATE’s radius! Voynich spins round—JUSTICE BOUGHT! The Harvester plants him with the Samoan drop! He cocks his fist… SHOTGUN BLAST! Voynich ducks the Superman punch – REAPER CRACKS HIS HAND ON THE STEEL POST!
Disarmed, he staggers back – MONOLITH BRAINBUSTER by Voynich! ONE… TWO… SHOULDER UP! Reaper is one tough SOB. Voynich makes an 8 with his hands. He’s going for the sliced bread #2 – THE EIGHTH WONDER! He grabs a bulldog and runs up the turnbuckle… spiking Reaper’s head into the mat! ONE… TWO… THREE!
Voynich leaves Reaper in the dust!
Voynich is walking down the halls of The Slaughterhouse when a long axe blocks his path!
“A long axe? An astonishing one at that, it appears to be from the twelfth century!”
Voynich taps it and ducks under the axe.
A glaive is now in his path!
“A glaive?! Slightly more modern than the axe, it appears to be from the fifteenth century. Great finds gentlemen!”
He ducks again and a crimson glove is wrapped around his throat!
“Look around you, you historical heathen! These are not your men, they’re mine!”
A monstrous woman has her hand grasped tightly around Voynich who is rapidly suffocating! She is larger than most and surrounded by playing card guards! It’s the Queen of Hearts! Voynich is trying to break her grasp but to no avail!
“I am not letting you go. At first, I wanted to decapitate you like the rest but now I want to watch you suffer. Your expedition led to the world collapsing on my kingdom. It killed half my servants and wiped out most of my army, all because you couldn’t stop exploring. Now I’m going to make you stop!”
She squeezes tighter, Voynich is growing pale!
Sweet Alice is here and she just ripped the axe-wielding card!
The Queen points at Alice and screams!
“Off with her head!”
Alice grabs the axe and slices the other card!
The Queen lets go of Voynich and chases after Alice!
She is in full tunnel-vision mode!
Alice slides the axe on the ground and The Queen of Hearts trips over it!
Alice runs and punts The Queen of Hearts!
She’s out cold!
Alice grabs Voynich!
“Come with me! She won’t stay that way for long.”
Voynich nods and runs off with Alice!
JESSIE WILLIAMS VS. MONTY STRAIGHT VS. THE JUDGE
TRIPLE THREAT MATCH
Can balance be restored with three combatants on the scales?
Jessie and Monty size up The Judge, then look at each other, and nod. They both leap on the giant, overwhelming him with stereo offence. Dropkicks, headbutts, palm strikes – they cut their hands to ribbons on the metallic armour of the dispenser of justice! They each grab a wrist and, together, send him into the ropes…
But the superheavyweight mows them down with a double clothesline! The emcee crawls into the corner. Order whips Jessie into the turnbuckles—pancaking Straight—then crushes both of them with a splash! Double-handed chokeslam to Williams… Monty receives THE VERDICT Sparta kick! ONE… TWO… Jessie makes the save!
The 6’9 arbiter scoops the son of Ash up into the RESTORATION powerbomb – but Straight kicks him in the shin! Jessie lands on his feet. DEAL BREAKER codebreaker to Judge! He stumbles back—BOOMSTICK Superman punch! The one-two combo drops him. ONE… TWO… Monty breaks it up!
Strange bedfellows, indeed. Russian leg sweep by The Straight Shooter – into the crossface! TERMS AND COND—BOOYAH! The Prince uses the momentum of the rocket-propelled gauntlet to launch them backwards – rope break! The Judge rises. He bites Monty’s head, then… cutter! YOUR PAST MAY BITE YOU! He heaves Jessie up – RESTORATION powerbomb!? BOOYAH Superman punch from on top of his shoulders! ONE… TWO… THREE!
The illusionist walks across the empty streets of New York, the silence and loneliness being jarring to watch. He pauses as he moves, looking behind himself towards the shadows of the alleyways before moving on. However, we see what he does not.
Pen meeting paper.
Smoke lifting off of a cigarette.
We see Candy Kane. The detective leans back in one of the alleyways, snuffing out her smoke against the grimy wall and examining her notes quietly to herself.
“Missing for years and seemingly disappearing into thin air after a magic show. Parents made note that he was there, but he wasn’t the soul behind the eyes. They could see it in how he walked, talked, and acted.”
She smirks, recounting the information they relayed to her after the scene cut last week.
“And when they described that glossy look in the eyes, the ego, the love of illusions? Sometimes a lead simply falls into your lap.”
She peers around the alleyway again, watching as Mefisto seemingly disappears around a corner, Candy nodding as she begins to walk down the streets.
“You should stop looking in this, Candy.”
Her eyes go wide as the voice of a teen rings in her ears. She turns to see him, Bobby Finnegan. The teen’s eyes are dead, showing no emotion, no soul.
“Stop looking. You’ll only get hurt.”
Candy walks forward, grabbing for Bobby but her hands go right through him, an illusion. She backs away, turning around and seeing tens, hundreds of Bobbies around her, all of them slowly walking towards her, each one telling her to stop while she’s ahead.
But Candy stands her ground, and despite the fear in the back of her head, she does not falter.
And in moments, the Bobbies disappear, leaving Candy alone in the street, Mefisto’s message clear.
LUKE STORM VS. ANONYMOUS
Is the rising sentiment of revolution just lightning in a bottle?
Storm floors Anonymous with a double-leg takedown. The hacktivist covers up against Luke’s ground-and-pound game. The actor-cum-cage-fighter pulls him up and backs him into the corner. He repeatedly drives his shoulder into his gut, then sends him packing into the opposite turnbuckles. He charges in after – only to eat a big boot!
With Luke reeling, Anon shoots forwards. He ducks an elbow strike and leaps behind him with a crucifix pin—ONE… TWO… KICKOUT! Stormborn slaps the mat and races to his feet. Legion throws a low kick, but Luke blocks it—ENZUIGIRI! Spit flies out of Storm’s mouth as he hits the deck.
Anon holds up five digits, telling the crowd to remember the 5th. Luke slowly gets to his knees. Anonymous hits the ropes… GUNPOWDER PLOT!? Storm evades the famouser! He rocks Anon with a hattrick of arm drags, ducks a clothesline, then jacks him with a forearm. He hops back on his feet—
LIGHTNING STRIKE!? ANON GRABS THE FOOT… ANKLE LOCK! Storm thrashes on the mat. Will he tap!? He rolls forwards, tripping Legion throat-first into the ropes! The hacktivist stumbles back round – LIGHTNING STRIKE! The superkick staggers him… And the DOWNPOUR codebreaker flattens him! Storm hooks the leg. ONE… TWO… THREE!
Thunder drowns out fireworks.
WAS IT FATE?
The gas station, halfway between the Slaughterhouse and the small town of Lucid Falls. The only lights on the dusty roads, and a completely bored gas station attendant. It seems just a small part of Americana, but for one person wandering the aisles.
A strange place for the Fates to be. But Moirai stands, seemingly interested in a bag of potato chips. That is, until the bell rings, as a mountain of a man seems to be completely out of place. He looks around, locking eyes with Moirai.
“I finally found you.”
Moirai stops, giving a small shrug to the larger man as she grabs a bag of snacks.
“Fate is everywhere, at the most key points. Turns into road traveling time. But you seem out of place here Banzan.”
She gives him a small smirk as the giant of a man looms before her. He speaks, seeming to be a bit reserved in a public place like this.
“I have something I need to ask of you, concerning-”
“The fate of Gabriel Drake. Yes, I knew it was a matter of time before you came to me.”
Banzan reaches out, grabbing her arm. Anger burns within he glares into her eyes.
“Tell me what you know.”
Her face is calm, but there is a tinge of sadness in her voice.
“I am sorry for your loss. His death was not your fault. But it takes a monster to slay another. And the only monster left in OSW…”
With a new target, Banzan stomps out of the gas station. Behind him, Moirai smiles as the fate’s plan falls into place, walking back outside into the black of the night. The night attendant watches her leave, blinking for a second before speaking to the empty room.
“The fuckers didn’t buy anything. What the fuck?
TEAM BUILDING EXERCISE
A tactical obstacle course sits in the middle of a field.
At various points in the obstacle course, guns are stationed meant to fire and hit multiple moving targets.
“Sounds easy, right?” Thom asks, a half-smoked stoge still chilling between his teeth.
He looks at Bishop and Malice, “Only thing is, you will complete the course as a three-legged man. And you have 1 minute.”
“If we don’t complete it?” Malice asks, both he and Bishop looking at each other like they’re the weak one.
“You will complete it. You’re brothers. That’s the point. This is a team building exercise. As silly as it sounds to do a three-legged man tactical obstacle course, you two need to remember birds of a feather flock together. No use flying solo.”
Major Thom points a gun in the air. In his other hand, he holds a stop watch.
“3, 2, 1!”
Bishop and Malice quickly move to a station with an AK-47. Malice picks it up and fires it at the nearest moving target. Direct hit. He quickly puts down all the moving targets.
“Oh, and boys… look out for the paintballs.”
Paint balls begin firing from all directions at Malice and Bishop, who find themselves rolling together, diving together, and taking cover together. They arrive at the next station. Both grab handguns and obliterate the moving targets in front of their cover.
They roll and dive to the next station. Malice picks up the shotgun. Blasts their way through a door, tosses the gun aside.
They enter the building, pick up the final weapon, an AR-15, and shoot it together on the final targets.
Bishop and Malice bump fists.
“55 seconds to prove you two, when you’re on, are the best team in the business, and that’s true whether it’s the war business or the wrestling business. We’re the War Machine. We don’t divide, unless we conquer.”
The three look at each other. Knowing nods from the lot of them.
MALICE & BISHOP © VS. BLOOD SHARK & REDWING
TAG TEAM MATCH
Tag Team gold is up for grabs!
Redwing ducks a LARIAT FROM HELL out of the gate! He hobbles Malice with strikes to the knees, exploiting the marine’s nagging injuries. He goes to whip him, but the 295-pounder sandbags it, instead throwing Redwing. Crimson Justice is snatched up into a military press. He drops down onto his feet… GODWATCH ripcord knee!
Bishop storms the ring illegally. Snake eyes… Big boot – Redwing is in The Outlaw’s CROSSHAIRS! Shark protests, but the damage is done. Malice ragdolls the Gotham resident with an arsenal of suplexes. The Michigander waits for the redeemed hero to rise… GORE! GORE! GORE! ONE… TWO… Shark dives into the save!
The man-eater returns to the apron – LARIAT FROM HELL! Malice sends him to the floor and tags Bishop. The 6-10 Texan hammers Redwing with punishing blows. He scoops him onto his shoulder… LAST RITES!? The vigilante squirms free… RETURN TO ARKHAM double underhook DDT! He’s too exhausted to cover him; Redwing finally tags in a recovered Blood Red Shark!
The nomad sits up just in time to eat a BLOODY MARY shining wizard! Malice charges in—GORE! GOR—NO! Shark catches him… BLOODMONEY hammerlock DDT! The Mauler rolls outside. Shark turns back to Bishop, the legal man. He stalks his prey… BLOODMONEY! The Emporium inmate covers him—ONE… TWO… THREE!
New champions – but what an unlikely couple!
“Yes, I know traveling is restricted right now.”
Jessie Williams is on his cell phone, wandering through the halls of the Slaughterhouse.
“I’ll charter a plane if I have to.” He says as he pushes through a door. “But I’m going to Lucid Falls this week, one way or another.”
He pockets the cell phone as we see where he has entered.
Jessie lines up at a urinal as his nose curls up.
“What died in here? Fuck sakes!”
He looks at the mirror above the urinal (because of course we have them), and his eyes widen as he realizes the stall behind him has no door.
And sat on it with his trousers around his ankles is none other than the Mayor of Gary Indiana.
With a squint of exertion in his eye, Junky pushes out the last bit of his refuse before smiling contentedly. He stands to his feet, and heads towards the urinal next to Jessie.
…Junky pushes out the last bit of his refuse before smiling contentedly. He stands to his feet…
Junkrat did not wipe his ass, nor flush the goddamn toilet.
He walks up to the urinal, grinning at Williams as he looses his willy.
“Can’t piss in the toilet.” Junkrat offers to an uncomfortable Williams. “Got a Prince Albert back in day, but didn’t like it. So now I got a hole in my willy and have to hold it upside down to piss.”
He shows it off as the piss runs out the hole. Jessie quickly zips up and heads to the sink to wash up.
“I heard you’re heading to Lucid Falls.”
Jessie stops in his tracks and looks at Junky, who finishes up and heads for the sink. The Prince, after a moment, smiles.
“Want to come along?” He asks, out of nowhere.
Junkrat looks like he might cry as he begins to wash his hands.
“I haven’t had a friend since the masked guy. I’d love to go!”
He looks over at Jessie, and curls his nose.
“Wash your damn hands!”
Junkrat saunters out of the bathroom while Jessie just looks confused.
Why the hell does he want Junkrat to come with him to Lucid Falls?
ALTON WHITLOCK VS. SIGIL
Can a better tomorrow exist, as time hangs in the balance?
Sigil closes the gap with blistering shots to Whitlock. He backs him into the corner, rips his shirt open, and leathers him with chops. Alton staggers out, his pectorals raw and bloody. Sigil snaps him in half with a backbreaker! Digging his knee into his back, he elbows him in the face over and over again – it’s a LONG ROAD AHEAD!
The Collector bides his time as Whitlock recovers. MERCIFUL – Alton blocks the chop to the neck! He’s a politician, he has to have eyes in the back of his head! Assassination averted, The Candidate pulls Sigil into an arm drag. He sticks him with an atomic drop, then sweeps his legs… slingshot into the turnbuckle!
The Realm Walker stumbles back. The Vermonter goes for PARTY POLITICS but Sigil escapes the overdrive neckbreaker… FINITE! The leaping roundhouse kick knocks Alton into another dimension! ONE… TWO… SHOULDER UP! Whitlock isn’t out of the race yet. Sigil sits in the corner, poised to strike…
Alton climbs to his feet—PLANESWALKER!? Whitlock dodges the front dropkick! Sigil is caught upside-down in the ropes! The striker tries to free himself, but Alton snatches him up for the Joker driver – SNAP ELECTION! POOF! Sigil COSMIC LEAPS off his shoulders, teleporting to safety. Whitlock turns round—PLANESWALKER dropkick! ONE… TWO… THREE!
Sigil wins in the nick of time!
A darkened corner of the most forgotten area of the catacombic Slaughterhouse underground. Reaper seems almost at home in this surrounding, shrouded with mystery and bad intent.
A figure slinks up from the shadows like a serpent, slithering up behind Reaper. He does not attack but places his hand on Reaper’s shoulder and speaks in a low voice devoid of emotion.
“You know what you need to do.”
The Blood Shark, whispering in the ear of the man who by all intents and purposes is under his tutelage.
“Blood must be spilled. You blame The Judge for what happened to them, and rightly so. Take your vengeance out on him… But equally, your hatred towards Redwing. It… Pleases me.”
The Blood Shark waves a crimson cloth if front of the nose of Reaper.
“His scent. His blood scent. Feed on the smell, feast. You know what you must do, it’s a natural instinct. Embrace it.”
Reaper turns, locking eyes with the source of the predatory voice.
“Hunt. Hunt them all.”
Shark pats his for on the shoulder.
“And hunt you shall.”
BANZAN, MOIRAI & ALICE VS. JUNKRAT, SANDMAN & KERSH
The sextet of InVaders clashes!
Junkrat goes to salute Alice, but she floors him with a savate kick. The Dreamer hops into a sitout attack across his throat – TERRIBLY LATE! She exits, and Moirai takes over. Fate runs at Junkrat… LACHESIS wheelbarrow bulldog! The high-flyer waits for him to get up… CLOTHO sunset flip bomb! ONE… TWO… Brent breaks it up!
The anarchist rolls out, making Kersh legal. The Enforcer grounds Moirai with slams and suplexes. He turns her over into the LONE STAR figure four, but she escapes outside. Banzan—adopting the horse stance—reminds the Texan that suffering exists with the DUKKHA Saito suplex! Indestructible Mountain walks the enlightened path with the kinshasa – MAGGA! ONE… TWO… The Sandman saves it!
Brent rolls out, making The Night Terror legal. He picks up Banzan – DEEP SLEEP End of Days! The dream-demon kneels over the monk… 40 WINKS eye gouge! Wait—Alice leads Sandman DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE with the sitout facebuster! Sandman hits the floor as Alice gets up – THE CONCUSSION MINE tilt-a-whirl DDT by Junkrat!
The Ticking Timebomb is a house on fire! He knocks down Moirai and Banzan with a crossbody and a diving headbutt, respectively. He salutes both of them, then climbs the top rope to put Alice away. RIP-TIRE—DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE! He 450’d into the X-factor! Alice takes out Kersh and Sandman. ONE… TWO… THREE!
Banzan’s one-night-only abbot are blessed.
In the dark depths of The Slaughterhouse, Alton Whitlock is on the hunt.
It’s time for Anonymous–for the one behind the mask–to answer for their actions.
This time, Alton Whitlock is the one waiting in the shadows. The match at Blood Stained Summer wasn’t enough. He needs answers.
It’s just then a loud bang reverberates in the concrete hallway. A door allows a column of light to enter the dark tunnel. Into it steps the one called Anonymous. The door closes shut.
Only the blood-red lights of a glowing EXIT sign illuminates the space.
Anonymous stands perfectly still; a scarlet silhouette.
When Anonymous speaks, it is with a garbled and digital voice.
“I KNOW YOU’RE THERE, ALTON WHITLOCK.”
Whitlock pounces around a corner and glares at the masked one.
“The game is over, Berkshire,” Alton says. “And you’re in violation of a certain contract I seem to remember. All the money in the world won’t wash away your sins.”
Anonymous’s laugh is cold and robotic.
“HA. HA. HA.”
“Show yourself,” Whitlock hisses. “Or I will remove your mask and reveal you to the world. By any means necessary.”
“THE HOLLOW LAWS AND DISGUSTING ARISTOCRATS OF A CORRUPT SOCIETY,” the masked one continues, “HAVE NO STRENGTH COMPARED TO US.”
“But I do,” Whitlock whispers to himself.
The words are barely out of his mouth before he breaks into a dead sprint, flying down the hallway like his sanity depends on it–because it just might.
For an instant, Anonymous’s posture betrays a certain kind of shock.
Then, the masked one makes an almost imperceptible hand motion.
A horrendous, high-pitched SCREEEEEECH fills the hallway. A blinding-white strobe light flickers wildly.
Whitlock falls to his knees, clutching his ears in immense pain. The noise eats at his brain.
He fights against the horrible sound, against the madness, straining to get up.
Then the noise and the light stop suddenly.
When Whitlock looks up, Anonymous is gone.
TELEGON TOWERS OF DOOM II
When we return to SeeSaw, he’s at the top of Telegon Towers, looking for Mark Gouldern. He peers around corners of a long corridor, carefully heading towards the double doors of what could very well be a large office.
He opens the door, but finds himself utterly shocked by what he finds before him.
It’s not just Mark Gouldern in the most lavish of offices.
He’s not alone.
With him is Luke Storm.
“What the heck is going on here?” Mr. Make Believe says as if he’s somehow been betrayed. “My daddy didn’t tell me you’d be here!”
They both stand on ceremony.
“Mr. Storm and I were just coming to an arrangement, SeeSaw,” Gouldern says coldly.
“Between my brother rescuing me from The Emporium and your collective attempts on his Championship, we’ve agreed that the odds of a favourable outcome at InVasion are looking slim,” Storm adds. He picks up his glasses off the table and puts them on his face.
“And since I’m being forced to defend my Championship, I’m going to do it on my terms,” Mark says with a wry smile. “So, it’ll be a Fatal Four Way between you, I, Luke and Edward Newton.”
That infuriates SeeSaw who stomps his feet emphatically.
“You’ve ruined everything,” he screams. “My daddy will be so cross.”
Luke walks past him slowly, stopping beside him to share a quick word before he leaves.
“I owe you a receipt for everything you’ve done to me, SeeSaw,” he reminds him. “And I’ll pay you in full at InVasion.”
Storm exits the room, leaving Gouldern and SeeSaw alone. Mark walks around the desk and smiles.
“What now, little boy?”
Suddenly, SeeSaw runs at him.
SPEAR INTO THE DESK!
Looks like a fight is what’s now!
SEESAW VS. MARK GOULDERN ©
SeeSaw retrieves Gouldern from the mess of splintered wood, paperwork, and stationary. He squeezes his mouth and leans in with a sneer.
“You know, I never did like reading at playtime.”
With that, he hurls Mark into a hardwood bookcase! The CEO crumples to the floor, as heavy volumes and academic material rain down on him. SeeSaw then grabs the edges of the bookcase and—
HE PULLS IT DOWN ON TOP OF GOULDERN!
Telegon’s founder moans under the immense weight of the office furniture. He manages to claw his way out, nursing his back and ribs.
Mr. Make Believe looms over him. He brandishes a framed inspirational landscape photograph, as wide as his arms permit him to carry.
“How’s this for a eureka moment!?” He quips.
MARK STABS HIM IN THE FOOT WITH A GOLD FOUNTAIN PEN!
INK AND BLOOD SQUIRT ONTO THE RUG AS SEESAW HOPS UP AND DOWN!
The clown’s scream soon turns into laughter, though, as he derives joy from his opponent’s rough-play.
He gives chase as Gouldern escapes the trashed office.
No sooner does SeeSaw step outside, however, than Mark hurls a chair at him!
SeeSaw falls to his hands and knees as the leather seat hits the marble floor. The majority shareholder pulls him up by his curly red locks and leads him down a lavish corridor.
HE SMACKS HIS HEAD INTO THE WALL, LEAVING AN INDENTATION!
SeeSaw crawls away, giggling between groans.
Gouldern lifts a stone bust of Socrates from its plinth. With a grunt, he hoists it above his head…
AND BRINGS IT CRASHING DOWN INTO SEESAW’S SPINE!
The toy-reviewer yelps and rolls on his back, his fingers clenching rapidly.
Mark pushes the button on a brushed metal control panel.
“Going up – or down?” He enquires politely.
An elevator clatters into place behind silver doors, which slide open.
The tech guru grabs SeeSaw’s lapels and holds his head in the doorway – then presses the button again!
The Emporium inmate howls and cackles as the elevator doors slam into his temples.
A sexy, female voice plays over the intercom.
“Please ensure the doors are unobstructed.”
Gouldern tosses SeeSaw inside, then follows.
The children’s entertainer rubs his cranium, no doubt seeing stars.
“Sorry about that, Telaris – just a piece of garbage.”
“Thank you, Mark!” The smart assistant replies cheerily.
Mark pushes a floor button, and the doors finally close. He turns his attention back to his opponent—
SEESAW GORES HIM INTO THE ELEVATOR WALL!
The lights flicker—
SPINEBUSTER ON THE FLOOR – SUPER-FINE TURBINE BLAST!
The entire cabin rattles as it descends.
SeeSaw grabs the railing and stomps on Gouldern with unrelenting fury!
“Research and development.” Telaris says.
The doors swish open into a cold, sterile setting. Metal and glass surfaces; workers wearing lab coats and holding clipboards; experimental technology sitting on tabletops or under tarps.
SeeSaw bowls Mark out of the elevator.
At the sight of their employer—in many cases, their idol—being brutalised by an intruder, the scientists and researchers scream and scatter, dropping their belongings and tripping over each other. Somebody trips the alarm system, triggering swirling red lights and a wailing siren.
Gouldern drags himself down the clinical corridor, SeeSaw stalking him.
“Mr. Gouldern, sir – I’ll save you!”
A young intern—lost in the shuffle—feebly swats SeeSaw with his clipboard.
He instantly regrets his decision, backing away as the demented son of D’Ville looks at him with wide eyes, grinning ear-to-ear…
BACKBREAKER TO THE INTERN!
SEESAW FLIPS HIM OVER—
FACEBUSTER ONTO THE FLOOR!
“Kevin…” Mark moans, stretching out his hand.
SeeSaw grabs his wrist, pulling him past Kevin’s motionless body and off down the hallway.
They enter a laboratory, and the Tranquility Lane resident releases his plaything. He looks around the room like a kid in a candy store. All manner of flasks, beakers, and vials fill one half of the room; metallic gadgets and weapons occupy the other half.
The man once known as Andrew Fish rubs his hands together. He grabs a sealed item of glassware bearing yellow warning labels.
“What does this one do!?” He ponders as he examines its blue contents—
HE SHAKES IT UP AND PELTS GOULDERN WITH IT!
A NOXIOUS YELLOW CLOUD ENVELOPS MARK!
WHAT THE HELL IS THAT STUFF!?
“A-heck, a-heck…” Gouldern emerges from the toxic fog.
His eyes bulge in their sockets. His tongue is swollen. He’s foaming at the mouth!
Gasping for air, he drags himself through a field of broken glass!
SEESAW STOMPS HIS BACK AND PULLS ON HIS ARMS – THE STRETCH ARMSTRONG!
NEVER MIND NOT TAPPING OUT – HOW IN THE HELL CAN MARK SURVIVE THIS!?
He gurgles in the submission hold. SeeSaw laughs with glee.
“Vitals critical. Toxins detected.” Telaris announces.
SeeSaw looks around for the source of the voice. It came from the TeleGauntlet on Gouldern’s wrist!
“Deploying intravenous countermeasures.”
The Herald of the Future is injected by the TeleGauntlet. Instant relief floods his face and body. Rejuvenated—not to mention oxygenated—he pulls SeeSaw forwards!
The sociopath flips over, and topples, a metal trolley carrying delicate instruments – which fall on him.
Mark shakily gets to his feet. He checks his gauntlet.
“That should’ve pinged them…” He mutters to himself, concerned.
Who—or what—is them!?
SeeSaw rises. Sharp tools hang from his painted face, embedded in his flesh as though it were a dartboard!
He grabs them and pries them out, leaving behind puncture marks which ooze blood.
“Hey, cool – ninja stars!”
SEESAW THROWS THE NEEDLES AND BLADES AT GOULDERN!
The visionary runs and ducks behind worktops and partition screens, razor-sharp tools sticking them or ricocheting off like bullets!
Mark darts through a doorway into the next room, finding respite behind a concrete barricade with yellow and black markings.
“And you even have your own firing range!?”
Gouldern shoots to his feet and pokes his head out from behind the wall—
A FUCKING BLUE LASER TAKES A CHUNK OUT OF THE CONCRETE!
SEESAW HAS SOME KIND OF PLASMA WEAPON!
IS TELEGON A DEFENCE CONTRACTOR!?
Mark hides behind what’s left of the wall. This is what he does best: remain calm under pressure. All he has to do is think.
“I love playing hide and seek!” SeeSaw taunts.
He punches another hole in the wall.
“Ready or not, HERE I COME!”
SeeSaw advances down the firing range, letting loose errant blasts of plasma.
Think, Mark, think…
Just as SeeSaw squeezes the trigger, his weapon trained on the corner of the wall which conceals Gouldern—
THE TELEBOOTS LAUNCH MARK UP INTO THE AIR…
SEESAW REDIRECTS HIS AIM—
RUTHLESS INSPIRATION DROPKICK!
SeeSaw drops the gun and flies backwards, sending priceless research and complex schematics everywhere.
Gouldern’s turtleneck is torn to pieces. Cuts and scrapes litter his body. He pushes his reinforced smart glasses up the bridge of his nose as he approaches his downed foe.
“Didn’t—anyone t-tell you…” He says, teeth gritted against the pain. “N-no children allowed?”
He pulls SeeSaw to his feet and drags him over to a circular platform, housing something under a sheet. A banner hanging over the secret project reads:
Mark whips the cover off…
REVEALING A SOLAR-POWERED CAR!
“I never did like the design.” He laments, clambering on top of it with SeeSaw.
The TeleGauntlet fires up—
GOULDERN DRIVES SEESAW’S HEAD INTO THE AUTOMOBILE!
PLANNED OBSOLESCENCE DDT!
THE SOLAR-PANEL ROOF BUCKLES!
THE WINDOWS EXPLODE!
BOTH MEN LIE IN TWISTED METAL AND GLASS!
They have battered each other from pillar to post! Telegon Towers is going to need remodelling after the tornado that has ripped through it. It must be over now!?
The Silicon Valley resident stirs. He looks across at his adversary…
SEESAW SITS UP!
ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?
The innovator of the Toybox gazes back at Mark and smiles.
“Target acquired.” Says an unfamiliar voice.
SeeSaw chuckles. “Your little bracelet won’t save you.”
“No.” Gouldern concedes. “But they will.”
SeeSaw frowns and looks up.
IS THAT A FUCKING SWAT TEAM!?
THAT MUST BE WHO THE TELEGAUNTLET PINGED!
Six armed guards, dressed head-to-toe in black tactical gear, blitz the destroyed lab. They all train their weapons on SeeSaw as they approach.
“Terrorist?” SeeSaw asks, genuinely hurt.
“Mr. Gouldern, are you able to walk?” What seems to be their Captain asks.
“I think so, Rick. Just help me out of this mess.”
The guards assist Mark in climbing down the remains of the Sol. Their uniforms carry a Telegon logo, revealing them to be a personal security team.
“Okay, boys – EXTRACT!”
Three of the guards escort Gouldern towards the windows.
“HEY! HE’S MY PLAYDATE!”
SeeSaw goes to pursue them, but is subdued by the remaining three personnel. They free him from the totalled car and push him to his knees on the ground.
“Put your hands on your head!” One guard barks.
“If I do that, we can’t play.” SeeSaw pouts, watching Mark’s task force.
They place a small device on the window. It blinks red and beeps rapidly, before sending a pulse through the glass—
IT SHATTERS INSTANTLY!
Back to SeeSaw’s captors. “We’re not playing. Comply or we will use force!”
“Fine.” Mr. Make Believe sighs. “I can see that you won’t drop the ball.”
Gouldern’s detail steps outside, onto the ledge and into the night air. Each of them raises a small gun with a reel…
THEY FIRE GRAPPLING HOOKS UP TO THE ROOF EDGE!
SeeSaw puts his hands on his head—
“Hold on tight, sir.” Rick advises Mark on the ledge. “Evac is inbound.”
“They won’t get here in time.” Gouldern replies grimly.
SEESAW DROPS WHAT LOOKS LIKE A FUCKING GRENADE!
HE MUST HAVE POCKETED IT EARLIER!
Mark’s squad watches on helplessly.
SeeSaw’s guards lower their weapons in a blind panic, screaming conflicting orders over each other, unknowingly ignoring Captain Rick.
SEESAW BOLTS UP BEHIND ONE OF THEM—
WOODY’S ROUNDUP MODIFIED NECKBREAKER!
HIS PARTNER WHEELS ROUND—
TEETER-TOTTER REVERSE DEATH VALLEY DRIVER!
THE FINAL GUARD LOOKS AT HIS SQUADMATES, THEN AT SEESAW, THEN AT THE GRENADE…
HE DIVES INTO COVER!
SeeSaw waves goodbye and sprints after Mark.
“GO, GO, GO!” Rick screams—
BUT SEESAW MAKES IT ONTO THE LEDGE!
HE DUCKS BEHIND THE WALL AND COVERS HIS EARS!
RICK & MARK DO THE SAME—
BUT RICK’S MEN HAVE NOWHERE TO GO!
AN EXPLOSION RIPS THROUGH THEIR FLOOR!
AN ORANGE FIREBALL BLOWS OUT THE REMAINING WINDOWS – ENGULFING RICK’S MEN!
ONLY THEIR EMPTY LINES REMAIN!
GLASS AND DEBRIS RAINS DOWN ONTO THE STREETS BELOW!
Rick screams and lunges for SeeSaw—
HE BRAINS HIM INTO THE WALL!
ONLY SEESAW AND GOULDERN REMAIN!
“All this—” Mark gestures incredulously. “For my Championship!?”
“You have too many toys.” SeeSaw motions behind him at the devastated lab. “I want that one in my Toybox!”
He steps towards Gouldern—
TELEGAUNTLET-ASSISTED SUPERMAN PUNCH!
MARK COLD-COCKS HIM!
SEESAW STUMBLES BACK—
BUT HE GRABS GOULDERN!
BOTH MEN TOPPLE OVER THE LEDGE—
NARROWLY GRABBING THE DANGLING LIFELINES!
THEY SWAY BACK AND FORTH, BOUNCING OFF OF TELEGON TOWERS!
THE SOUND OF HELICOPTER BLADES DRAWS NEAR, A SPOTLIGHT FALLING ON BOTH MEN IN THEIR PREDICAMENT!
WILL THEY FALL!?
MARK GOULDERN PULLS HIMSELF UP! MARK GOULDERN WINS THIS FIGHT! HE SURVIVES!
TELEGON TOWERS OF DOOM III
Gouldern barely scrambles back atop the roof, somehow getting back to his feet. He’s doubled over, panting with exhaustion.
Suddenly, SeeSaw grabs his leg, PULLING HIM BACK OVER THE EDGE!
GOULDERN BARELY MANAGES TO GRIP THE LEDGE!
OH MY GOD!
OH MY GOD!
Mr. Make Believe chuckles as he pulls himself back up, looking at Mark dangling there by ONE HAND!
“Goodbye,” he says, waving enthusiastically. “It’s been fun!”
SeeSaw literally walks away, leaving Mark to dangle there, his life on the line.
Slowly but surely, his aching fingertips begin to loosen.
He just can’t hold on anymore.
AND HE LETS GO!
MARK GOULDERN IS FALLING TO HIS FUCKING DEATH!
A HAND REACHES OUT AND GRABS HIM! IT GRABS HIM JUST IN TIME!
MARK GOULDERN LOOKS FUCKING TERRIFIED!
SIGIL HAS GOULDERN!
“I think we should talk,” he says, Gouldern’s hand gripped tightly in his as he lays down over the edge, holding on for dear life. “As I understand it, you’ve made a Championship match and forgotten one important ingredient.”
“Please, just pull me up,” Mark begs.
“I could do that, but I’m not sure it benefits me as much as letting you go.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Fine, you’re in the match, just get me up!”
Sigil pulls him up and back onto the ledge, where he barrels rolls away from the edge as quickly as he can.
Mark pulls himself onto all fours, breathing deeply.
The Collector walks over, kneeling.
“If you renege, I’ll come back and throw you off this rooftop myself.”
“You’re in, you’re in.”