SINS OF YOUR FATHER
SOMEWHERE ELSE
Click.
Static covers the screen as a Play ► symbol appears in the bottom right-hand corner.
Recorded Earlier.
It’s the middle of the night and all is quiet in The Enigma household. Scarlett sits in front of a large mirror in her bedroom, quietly brushing her hair.
It’s then that a figure behind appears abruptly before her, standing in the door way.
The Red Death.
She looks at him, too scared to turn around.
“There will come a time when there’s no-one left to protect you or your father,” he hisses quietly. “And I will get vengeance for my family; the family your father stole from me.”
Scarlett shakes her head.
“You’ve got it all wrong, my daddy wouldn’t hurt anyone,” she says, convinced of Luke Storm’s innocence.
Death laughs.
“Your daddy killed my wife and child,” he retorts. “He murdered them in cold blood. He did it for the fame and fortune of Hollywood. He did it for you and your mother.”
This time Scarlett turns around, her face reddened.
“Don’t talk about my mommy,” she warns.
“When Newton commands it, I will destroy what’s left of your family. I will kill you first and bury him alongside you.”
She gulps, her eyes welling up. Before you know it, she’s quietly crying, absolutely terrified of The Red Death.
“I’ll get my vengeance and the sins of your father will also be your cross to bear,” he growls. “That’s why you’re here.”
Slowly he turns around and walks away, leaving her alone.
The Red Death broke the cardinal rule of his leader tonight and spoke with Scarlett Storm. He couldn’t help himself. There will be repercussions if Edward Newton finds out, but whatever happens, Death heads to the Main Event and Luke Storm awaits.
Cut.
LIKE A PIG
BACKSTAGE
Obasi Bocamo. Brandishing a large knife, sharpened and hungry for the blood of one Marvolo II. Flanked by a security team of his militia as they march through the Slaughterhouse.
“Little fat man…” He calls down the hallway, his voice echoing off the walls.
Ahead of him, a door slams shut and the sound of a bolt locking clatters. Bocamo shakes his head and approaches the culprit. He knocks on the door with the knife.
“Little fat man… Little fat man… Let me come in.”
No answer.
Bocamo cocks his head in the direction of the door.
“Bust down the door, bring ‘eem to me.”
But there is no reply, no action, no answer. His militia has disappeared. Obasi Bocamo is alone. All that is left is a duffel bag that sits at his feet. A tag on the bag sees Marvolo’s smiling face beaming at them – ‘Compliments of Molvanîa’.
Bocamo opens the bag and inside is a collection of foreign currency, notes the likes of which the eye has never seen. His militia has been paid off. Again, he bangs on the door with his knife.
“You can hide in there all you like, Little fat man. But we have a meeting in that ring where I will gut you like the pig you are. My blade and I will be waiting for your blood.”
From under the door, a slip of paper slides its way into Bocamo’s eyes. On it, a picture. Signed by Marvolo II himself. It shows Marvolo in all his glory, pulling the fingers proudly.
Bocamo spits on the photo, stomping his foot on it like a bug. His fingers grip the knife even more tightly. His eyes are fixed on one thing, ending Marvolo II.
Cut.
OBASI BOCAMO VS. MARVOLO II
SINGLES MATCH
Well, Marvolo II has nowhere to run from the Blood King’s knife now. But Obasi Bocamo is an army short of his usual full deck. Will both men make it out alive?
DING! DING! Bocamo charges towards Marvolo II, that big fucking knife already out and ready to gut Numbehr Two! Marvolo’s fat ass quickly escapes the ring, impressive given his stature! Bocamo beckons El Macho to come back into the ring, but Marvolo hits a crotch chop outside the ring, and flexes!
Bocamo is furious! He leaves the ring and gives chase to Marvolo, that knife glistening in the Slaughterhouse lights! Marvolo is nearly caught when he rolls underneath the bottom rope! The Blood King pursues!
Double axe handle to Obasi’s back! Another! Another! He drops the knife!
BIG SPLASH ONTO THE PRONE BACK OF OBASI!
Marvolo slaps Obasi’s sides and catches his wrists as he reaches back in pain!
El Macho quickly transitions Bocamo into A SURFBOARD SUBMISSION!!!
Bocamo cries out in agony!!! The referee is right there, but Bocamo refuses to give up! Eventually, Marvolo can no longer sustain the hold, and he frees the Blood King! But perhaps the damage is already done!
Marvolo reaches his feet and grabs Obasi, dragging him up to his own!
LOW BLOW FROM THE BLOOD KING!
FOLLOWED BY A DOUBLE UNDERHOOK DDT!!!
OBASI MAKES THE COVER!
ONE!!!
…
…
TWO!!!
…
…
KICKOUT BY MARVOLO II!!!
Bocamo transitions to a mount and proceeds to pummel the living shit out of Marvolo’s face! Left after right after left after right! Marvolo’s guard is the only thing preventing a complete knock out here!
“REFEREE!!!” Marvolo screams. “REFEREE, HE IS SQUEEZING MY NUTSACK!!!”
The ref looks behind Bocamo to check Marvolo’s claim!
THUMB TO OBASI’S EYE!!! Obasi cries out and falls away from The Molvanian Matador, and Marvolo quickly scrambles to the turnbuckles to help him reach his feet!
Marvolo reaches his feet!
He turns around to face Obasi!
GREETINGS FROM AFRICA!!! THE SPLASH IN THE CORNER!!!
But Obasi has not forgotten his purpose. He moves quickly to retrieve his knife! The referee tries to step in, but the Blood King shoves him away.
“I will enjoy gutting you like the pig you are,” Obasi says! He moves in on Marvolo with the knife! He rares it back!
DOKAGIRL!!! THE POISON MIST RIGHT INTO THE BLOOD KING’S EYES!!! GOD DAMN!!! OBASI FALLS BACKWARDS, AND MARVOLO MAKES THE COVER!!! HE HOOKS BOTH LEGS!!!
ONE!!!
…
…
TWO!!!
…
…
THREEEEEE!!!
Marvolo is given the win, and he quickly slides out of the ring, grabs Raquel’s arm, and runs up the entrance ramp! El Macho shall not be gutted on this day!
A MONSTER
SOMEWHERE ELSE
A massive hall, dimly lit, carved out of obsidian.
Giant statues of hulking figures loom: armored, with weapons in their hands. It’s completely empty.
Except at the far end of the hall, where there is a tall window.
Outside of it, an infinity of stars. Knelt before it, The Judge.
This is The Court of Alignment.
“Eons ago I swore an oath to be your steward of balance,” he says. He’s gazing out at the stars. The universe. “My solemn duty.”
“Or… so I am led to believe.”
He stands up.
“It’s such a fragile equilibrium. One misstep, and it all falls apart. Before my judgment is passed, I must be certain.”
He waves his hand. A translucent orange rectangle appears before him. Mez’s masked face is visible through it. He’s somewhere dark, strapped to a chair in his straitjacket.
Mez gazes through the orange window, right back at The Judge.
“Long ago,” The Judge says, “I was not this.” He motions down at his armored body. “As you were not as you are now.”
“What keeps you trapped?” asks Mez. He sounds puzzled.
“I swore an oath,” The Judge replies, “though I do not remember it. Those who I serve–they took my memory.”
A moment passes.
“We are… the same? No past?” asks Mez.
“No pasts,” The Judge says. “Only futures. And presents. What will you do with yours, Mez?”
“I don’t get to choose,” says Mez.
“But what if you did?” asks The Judge.
Mez’s mask is stoic, but his voice sounds desperate.
“Can you help me?” he asks.
“The laws of my position forbid it,” he says. “Everything has its place.”
“I would help you,” says Mez. He sounds frustrated.
“Would you?”
“A monster doesn’t help,” says Mez. “A man does. I want to be a man.”
“Even men must do monstrous things sometimes,” says The Judge. “Before I can fulfill my duties, another test is necessary.”
Mez looks back up.
“I’ll see you soon,” says The Judge. He closes the orange window.
Cut.
SCRIMSHAW VS. PICKPOCKET
SINGLES MATCH
As Scrimshaw and Pickpocket enter the ring they are met with the sight of BJ, in a baby carrier, hung from a pole! The monkey squeals as the bell rings and the match begins!
Scrimshaw is on the offensive as he rushes towards his opponent, slamming into Pickpocket nearly instantly and forcing him into the corner! He unloads on the poor street urchin with a flurry of body blows! Pickpocket tries to protect himself with a kick to Scrimshaw but the captain catches the leg!
DRAGGED INTO THE DEPTHS! LEG HOOK SAITO SUPLEX!
Pickpocket lands unceremoniously in the center of the ring and Scrimshaw moves towards Buford Jr, climbing the turnbuckle and reaching out for the mischievous creature!
CHOMP!
BUFORD BIT SCRIMSHAW! THAT DAMNED DIRTY APE JUST GNAWED ON SCRIMSHAW’S HAND!
“Damned tree rat!”
Scrimshaw retaliates by slapping the monkey and sending Buford flying around the pole! He goes to grab it again but Pickpocket is up and he’s here to protect his friend! He gets up behind Scrimshaw and nails a harsh forearm! Another! Another! Scrimshaw doesn’t look like he’s willing to let go!
SCRIMSHAW GRABS PICKPOCKET’S HEAD! HE SLAMS HIM FACE FIRST INTO THE POLE!
Pickpocket is reeling as Scrimshaw tries to push him off of the turnbuckle! But Pickpocket refuses to let go! He’s devoted to keeping BJ nice and safe! A headbutt by Scrimshaw makes him waver! Can he hold on!?
WHAT’S YOURS IS MINE! PICKPOCKET GIVES SCRIMSHAW A TASTE OF HIS OWN MEDICINE AS HE FLINGS SCRIMSHAW OFF OF THE TOP ROPE WITH AN INVERTED HEADLOCK TAKEDOWN! THE CAPTAIN’S HOOK!
Scrimshaw lands stomach first in the ring and howls, quite literally, in pain as Pickpocket wrenches on the hold! But the thief isn’t well versed in its application and Scrimshaw easily slips out with a knee to the back! Pickpocket is pushed off but as Scrimshaw goes to stand he gets caught by a hell of a springboard dropkick from Pickpocket!
Scrimshaw lands in a heap and Pickpocket is close to the pole! BJ is mere fingertips away!
He gets to his feet and climbs the turnbuckle! He grabs for BJ!
BUT SCRIMSHAW IS ALREADY UP! HOW HAS HE GOTTEN BACK TO HIS FEET!?
The two men trade blows on the top turnbuckle as they both grab for BJ! Scrimshaw smacks Buford Jr! Pickpocket reaches out but accidentally smacks BJ himself!
BJ GETS KNOCKED BACK AND FORTH BY THE MEN IN THE WORLD’S WORST GAME OF TETHER BALL!
One smack from Scrimshaw sends the rope around Pickpocket’s neck!
THE SALTY SEA DOG CHOKES OUT PICKPOCKET AS HE UNHOOKS BUFORD JR!
The Captain lands on his feet and shakes Buford Jr up and down in victory as Pickpocket untangles the rope from his neck!
FOLLOW THAT MONKEY!
The may have come to an end but Scrimshaw’s less than happy as Buford Jr scurries out of his baby carrier and safely up onto Pickpocket’s shoulders. Scrimshaw looks at Pickpocket expectantly, hand out.
“So, you got yer match. I still want me coin. Now.”
Pickpocket looks between BJ and Scrimshaw, going back and forth before raising an eyebrow.
“Well, I mean, even if I wanted to I can’t exactly, ya know, make him give it back at the moment.”
Scrimshaw rolls his eyes, reaching out for Buford Jr, Pickpocket backs away, dodging Scrimshaw’s snatching hand, BJ moving to his back and hiding from the angry captain.
“Hey! Calm down! It’s just one coin, man. How much can one coin really mean! Well, like, I know how much one can be worth and all but…”
Pickpocket seems lost in his own little world as he scratches his chin, thinking about how much one coin can net him when an irritated backhand from Scrimshaw gets his attention!
“One coin can mean a lot, Lad. The coin sittin’ in that tree rat’s stomach there is-”
“Oh wow, it’s still in there? BJ we really need to take you to a vet… wow that’s gonna be expensive, huh?”
“BOY!”
Scrimshaw shouts once again at Pickpocket, getting the thief’s attention once again.
“That coin is part of a set that, when apart for long enough, causes things to get… strange. It’s cursed ya fuckin’ moron.”
Pickpocket’s eyes widen at the prospect as he looks back to BJ, the monkey staring back at him with his own set of wide eyes.
“Cursed… how?”
“Cursed as in it the former owners of said loot will finally notice its disappearance and do anything to get it back.”
“Like what?”
Before Scrimshaw can answer, a green fog slowly fills the arena, catching both off guard as the sounds of a bird’s screech can be heard. As Pickpocket looks around himself A SPECTRAL EAGLE EMERGES FROM THE FOG AND SNATCHES BJ! It flies off towards the ring entrance, BJ screeching the entire way!
“BJ!”
“Things like THAT!”
He rolls his eyes and shoves Pickpocket over the ropes!
“If you ever wanna see that rat again or me coin… FOLLOW THAT MONKEY!”
Pickpocket scrambles to his feet as Scrimshaw chases the spectral eagle, following the sea captain off backstage as the scene slowly fades to black.
THE JUDGE VS. MEZ
SINGLES MATCH
We have ourselves a clash of titans as The Judge takes on Mez!
At the behest of Mr. Johnson, Mez charges at The Judge…who uses his size advantage to drop Mez with a shoulder tackle! Johnson is livid, shouting at his patient.
The Judge stays in control as he lays in some hard punches on the downed Madman…but Mez shoves him off, writhing with anger as he gets back to his feet! Mez charges at The Judge headfirst, but his anger proves to be his undoing as The Judge sends him into the turnbuckle with a thud.
Judge goes back on the attack, but finds that Mez is able to strike back just as hard, hitting a hard knee to the sternum! Even with his armor taking a good chunk of the blow, Judge is rocked for just a moment…ANARCHY! MEZ DROPPED JUDGE WITH A LOU THESZ PRESS, AND THROWING SOME ROUGH PUNCHES TO THE SKULL!
Johnson is cheering his patient on, a shit-eating grin on his face until Judge grabs him by the helmet, slowly getting back to his feet before slamming an elbow into Mez’s shoulder! Mez falls to the canvas, down but not quite out as Judge picks him up. Mez swings for the fences with a right hook, but Judge dodges it…THE VERDICT! JUDGE NEARLY KICKED MEZ’S HEAD OFF WITH THAT SPARTA KICK! Judge goes for a cover!
ONE! TWO! NO!
Mez kicks out, but Judge remains vigilant as the two big men trade punches. Judge gets the advantage again, sending Mez back into the corner…but as Judge continues the offensive, Mez counters with a big headbutt to the abdomen! GUT CHECK! Judge staggers back, allowing Mez a chance to gain some momentum as he rushes his opponent…THE SEDATIVE! MEZ JUST DROPPED THE JUDGE WITH A SPINNING BACK ELBOW! Johnson yells at his patient and Mez obliges with a cover!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE–NOOO!!!
Judge just manages to get a shoulder up, much to Johnson’s anger as Mez steps toward his foe. Mez starts pounding his chest with a fist, ready for a second wind as he charges head first and connects with another headbutt…GUT CHECK! Judge is really feeling it this time, much to the delight of Johson as he yells to his patient to finish this bout for good…HEAD CHECK! JUDGE IS DOWN AND OUT AFTER THAT HEADBUTT TO THE SKULL BY THE MADMAN! Johnson is elated as Mez covers The Judge!
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
The ref raises Mez’s arm in victory after a hard-fought bout between these giants!
A MAN
RINGSIDE
After a grueling battle, Mez and The Judge are sprawled out in the ring. While Mez remains on the mat, The Judge starts to rise to his feet.
Then Warden Johnson storms into the ring surrounded by orderlies.
He’s holding a glass vial in his hand, glowing purple. He hurls it at The Judge. It shatters into a haze around him.
“A little something I had the boys in the lab cook up,” says Warden Johnson. “Temporary paralysis.”
The Judge tries to stand, but can barely move. Weakly, he waves his hand.
A portal appears on the other side of the ring. Nearby, Mez begins to stir.
“Oh, you won’t be escaping,” says the warden. “Restrain him.”
The orderlies move toward The Judge with a straitjacket.
“You feel so bad for Mez, don’t you?” the warden asks. “You can be his new cellmate…”
Meanwhile, Mez has risen. No one sees him.
He sprints. Then obliterates Johnson with a spear.
Mez is up again immediately. His chest heaves. The orderlies leap out of the ring.
With Mez’s help, The Judge gets up. He still has trouble moving.
“I told you,” says Mez, “that I would help you. A man. Not a mons—”
Somehow, the Warden is back on his feet.
He holds two more vials in his hands. He brings them down toward The Judge and Mez…
But just in time, Mez shoves The Judge out of the way with all his strength.
Warden Johnson misses with one vial, but the other one breaks on Mez’s back. The haze surrounds him.
Mez’s push sends The Judge careening across the ring–and back through his portal.
The Judge stumbles into The Court of Alignment, then peers back into The Slaughterhouse
“I told you,” says the masked man. Then he collapses.
The warden and his orderlies sprint at the portal, but The Judge closes it with a wave of his hand.
The court is silent; the tall, strange statues loom over it as imposing shadows.
“My judgement of the man called Mez has come to pass,” The Judge calls loudly. He still struggles to stand. His words echo in the emptiness.
Around him, the eyes of the massive statues begin to glow like bright blue stars.
“Innocent.”
The blue glow grows and grows, becomes overwhelming, until all The Judge sees is pure blue light.
A loud hum fills his ears.
Then, instantly, it’s gone.
His duty is done. For now.
Cut.
HELSTROM VS. JUNKRAT
SINGLES MATCH
It’s been all headaches and heartache up to this point. Headaches for Helstrom, heartache for Junkrat. Who will come out on top in this toxic quarrel?
DING! DING! Junkrat, fueled by angry tears, flies across the ring with a crossbody block into Helstrom! But Helstrom catches Junkrat in Midair and suplexes him to the ground! A couple of vicious, big stomps to Good Ol’ JR’s midsection folds him like a chair! A legdrop from Helstrom adding extra punishment to Junkrat’s neck!
Helstrom climbs back up to his feet and brings Junkrat to his own! He scoops Junkrat up into a gorilla press! And then he drops him with the gorilla press slam for good measure! Helstrom makes the cover!!!
ONE!!!
…
…
TWO!!!
…
…
KICKOUT BY JUNKRAT!!!
The entire arena can feel Helstrom practically roll its eyes behind that mask, no doubt wanting to be done with Junkrat as soon as possible.
He drags Junkrat to his feet and whips him into the turnbuckles! Junkrat hits the turnbuckles so hard he bounces right out of the corner and walks into a BIG BOOT TO THE JAW!!!
Helstrom can feel it. He can end this match right now! He lines up as Junkrat slowly crawls to his feet!
YINGLONG’S FLAME!!! THE RUNNING KNEE!!!
NO!!! JUNKRAT DUCKS UNDERNEATH IT AND GRABS HELSTROM’S ANKLE!!!
AN ANKLE LOCK!!! HELSTROM’S TRAPPED!
“You broke my heart, you bitch!!!” Junkrat screams, wrenching on Helstrom’s ankle! Helstrom roars in pain!
But not too much time passes before Helstrom begins crawling on his elbows towards the ropes! Inch, by inch, by painful inch he crawls until he grasps the bottom ropes with his fingers!!!
Junkrat is forced to break the hold, but quickly leaps into the air!
SENTON BOMB!!! RIGHT ONTO HELSTROM’S BACK!!!
ANOTHER SENTON BOMB!!!
ANOTHER!!! ANOTHER!!! ANOTHER!!!
HELSTROM’S LOWERBACK IS GETTING PULVERIZED!!!
But Junkrat isn’t finished. Helstrom rolls onto his back as Junkrat slowly ascends tbe turnbuckles to the top rope!
He points at Helstrom and grabs his willy!
SWANTON BOMB!!!
NO!!! HE LANDS ACROSS HELSTROM’S KNEES BACK FIRST!!!
Both competitors now lay on the mat wincing and grimacing with pain!
Both competitors slowly begin to crawl to their feet. First to their knees where they trade punches. Then to one knee, where they trade more!
Finally both of them reach their feet, and a flurry of rights and lefts are getting exchanged!
A KICK TO THE GUT FROM HELSTROM FOLDS JUNKRAT OVER!!!
HELSTROM SETS HIM UP BEAUTIFULLY!!!
DIVINE WRATH!!! THE ORANGE CRUSH POWERBOMB!!! JESUS CHRIST WHAT VELOCITY!!! HELSTROM HAS JUNKRAT IN A PIN POSITION!!!
ONE!!!
…
…
TWO!!!
…
…
THREEEEEEE!!!
Helstrom gets a big victory over Junkrat here, and perhaps, finally, it can put this mess behind it! Helstrom has its arm raised in victory!
HELL HATH NO FURY
RINGSIDE
The dust has cleared.
The smoke, settled.
Helstrom has left the ring and is preparing to leave all of this bullshit behind.
And yet, Junkrat is not done.
No, not by a longshot.
In his hand he possesses a hand grenade. He pulls the pin right out of it.
The son of a bitch is live.
“You stupid cunt,” Junkrat says, livid. “Do you have any idea the life I could have made for us!?! I could have made both of our lives an absolute, living Hell!!!”
Helstrom backs slowly away from Junkrat, but Junkrat nonetheless closes the distance.
“I would have done that for us! I could have made our lives so shitty that you would have completely forgotten Hell was a place outside of you and me!”
“Junkrat…”
“DON’T JUNKRAT ME, WOMAN!”
Junkrat is hyperventilating. Tears stream down his face like diarrhea streams down buttcheeks.
“But those days are dead,” Junkrat says solemnly.
He wipes away a final tear.
“And so am I.”
Junkrat drops the grenade on the ground and falls on it!
“NO!!!” Helstrom screams! Helstrom shoves Junkrat away as he falls, then drops onto the live grenade itself!
BOOOOOOM!!!
Junkrat looks over.
Smoke pours out from around Helstrom’s body.
Junkrat shakes his head. No! No, it can’t be!
But Helstrom quickly stands up. A stain on the floor from the explosion.
Its armor undented from the impact of the grenade, Helstrom stands and dusts itself off.
“You…” Junkrat says in disbelief. “You saved me.”
Helstrom nods.
Junkrat continues, “You really do love me!”
Helstrom shakes his head. “No.”
As Helstrom walks up the entrance ramp, he says his final goodbye with simple words that sting Junkrat to the core.
“I’m just… Not an asshole.”
Junkrat watches the love of his life walk into the distance once more.
And the pain? Well. That pain won’t feel distant for a while yet.
JAVAD EBADI VS. ALTON WHITLOCK
SINGLES MATCH
Will the sands of time run out for the Historian or will he make sure the ballot is cast against the Politician here tonight?
DING! DING! Javad wastes little time running across the ring and catching Whitlock with a quick hurricanrana that sends him crashing to the mat. Ebadi follows through with a mount and delivering a series of quick punches to the head of his captor. The Politician quickly shoves Ebadi off of him and getting to his feet.
Ebadi not wanting to waste too much time quickly turns, but is met with a hard clothesline that drops the Preserver to his back. Alton shakes his head before stomping down onto the head of the Persian Historian. Whitlock leaps and drives his knee to Ebadi’s skull.
Ebadi rolls away but gets grabbed by Whitlock who brings him up to his feet, whipping him to the ropes. Javad takes advantage and leaps to the middle rope, springing backwards into a crossbody that takes Whitlock off his feet and quickly hooks the leg, looking for a surprise pin.
ONE!
TWO!
NO!
Whitlock gets his shoulder up, much to Ebadi’s annoyance. Javad stands to his feet before going to the ropes. He springs his legs up onto the top rope. ARABIAN PRESS!
NO!
Whitlock got his knees up, driving them into the gut of the Persian. Alton gets to his feet and lifts Ebadi to his shoulders, reaching around to grab his head. SNAP ELECTION! Alton drills the Historian down onto his head.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO!
Ebadi just barely gets his shoulders up as Whitlock leans back in shock. Alton gets to his feet and leans against the corner to think for a moment as Ebadi gets to his feet. Alton runs across the ring, but before he can connect with Ebadi, the Parkour Historian vaults over him, driving the Politician face first into the middle turnbuckle.
Alton comes back to his feet in time to duck a roundhouse kick, but Ebadi wastes no time and brings his other foot around. AROUND THE WORLD!
Whitlock has the wherewithal to duck the kick. Once Ebadi is on the ground, Whitlock delivers a stiff boot to the gut that lifts the smaller Persian off the ground for a moment. Ebadi slowly stands to his feet as the Politician locks his arms up, lifting him off the ground upside down. Whitlock drops down to a seated position. BETTER WORLD!
Once again Ebadi is dropped onto his head, this time with a vicious Vertebreaker.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Like the sands of time, the march of Imperium is unstoppable here tonight as the Politician takes home another W.
THE SANDS OF TIME IV
SOMEWHERE ELSE
The Deserts of Persia
Machine gun fire echoes across the open plain of the Persian dessert. A small concrete complex burns on the horizon, surrounded by fortified walls. A militiaman takes a bullet to the chest, blood SPATTERING behind him as the bullet passes through him. He falls from the tall watchtower, landing entangled in the barbed wire atop the fortified wall, SCREAMING in pain.
The doors of the base are already blown wide open and Persians run from the makeshift prison, bloodied and screaming, into the arms and vehicles of the attacking soldiers of Persia.
From inside the fort two of Alton Whitlock’s militia storm out, AK-47s in hand, shooting in the direction of the fleeing prisoners. Blood EXPLODES from the chest of a fleeing woman who HOWLS in pain as bullets pass through her chest cavity and she collapses to the floor.
One of the pickup trucks burns as the prisoners flee.
Another van, now filled with escaped Persian’s, reverses at speed. Its wheels spin in the sand. It speeds off just in time as the burning pickup EXPLODES, flying into the air and landing on its roof. The explosion blows prisoners across the bloodied sand. BLOOD-CURDLING screams fill the night sky as prisoners limbs fly one way, and their bodies the other.
From behind the two militia at the gates, who shoot their rifles haphazardly into the crowd of fleeing Persians, two of the prisoners approach at speed. Each with a knife in hand. Simultaneously they DRIVE their knives into the side of the militias throats, shoving them forward to SEVER each man’s throat. Blood SQUIRTS into the air as the men FRANTICALLY grasp at their slippery, blood soaked throats. Each dropping to the ground. DEAD.
The cold night air of the Persian desert falls almost silent as the last of the prisoners jump aboard pickup trucks and into the back of waiting vans which speed off into the black night, lit only by the burning prison that had once held them.
The flames quietly flicker.
Persia is once again FREE.
TALE’S TELLING
SOMEWHERE ELSE
Darkness reigns in the chambers of the Cryptkeeper. A small candle illuminates the podium where the Cursed now stands, slowly adding to the Crypt in front of him.
Painstakingly, he adds to the book, but with a heavy sigh, he acknowledges that his sanctum has once again been invaded.
“You asked for the story.” Cryptkeeper offers to the intruder.
SeeSaw.
“I didn’t like the story.” Mr. Make Believe replies, his tone low as if barely restrained. “There was no play time, and you said he was broken. You said I was broken…”
“Did I?” Is the response.
The Crypt vanishes, along with the podium, as it’s keeper steps through wisps of smoke.
“I said what I said, nothing more.” He says after a moment. “I gave you what you desired, yet you were not satisfied.”
SeeSaw’s eyes narrow in anger.
“You’re a liar.”
Mr. Make Believe looks poised to strike while the Cryptkeeper looks completely in control.
“A tale is in the telling. I present the truth, but it seems that the self-absorbed shell you built around yourself has no use for it. That’s why Andrew Fish ceased to exist, isn’t it?”
SeeSaw bristles at the name, his hands beginning to quake.
“Fix the story.” SeeSaw demands. “I’m not broken.”
“I’m afraid once a tale has been recorded, it cannot be changed.” Cryptkeeper replies. “But perhaps it’s time for a new tale to be recorded.”
SeeSaw opens his mouth, but only smoke comes out. He closes his eyes as it consumes him, dropping him to his knees in surprise, or maybe pain…
When he opens his eyes, he is now in the Slaughterhouse, in the middle of the ring. Stood across from him is Cryptkeeper, who seems undisturbed.
“It will be up to you, my character, to decide whether this is the end of the Tale of SeeSaw or if it will continue.”
This match is happening now!
THE CRYPTKEEPER VS. SEESAW ©
SLAUGHTERHOUSE CHAMPIONSHIP
Playtime has finally arrived! But when the toys go back in the box, will it be followed by storytime?
The reigning Slaughterhouse Champion, SeeSaw, chomps at the bit. His manic smile falters as he stares a hole through The Cryptkeeper. The skeletal narrator remains stoic, his icy lidless eyes unblinking. Having spun the tragic tale of Kenny Freeman, making a pitstop at Tranquility Lane along the way, he looks to pen a new chapter tonight.
Mr. Make Believe makes a mad dash across the ring. He carves through the air with a big boot, but The Cryptkeeper has it telegraphed. He doubles SeeSaw over with a kick to the ribs, then clubs him across the back, sending him reeling into the corner. ‘Keeper keeps on him with a flurry of rights and lefts, then uses the top rope for leverage as he lifts his foot to choke the former toy reviewer! The referee tries to intervene but is simply barged out of the way as SeeSaw grabs the leg and forces ‘Keeper to hop backwards.
The facepainted fiend executes a dragon screw leg whip, almost snapping ‘Keeper’s dusty limb clean off! He rolls him over onto his front, then grabs his arms, plants his boot in the small of his back, and pulls back—
THE STRETCH ARMSTRONG!
IT’S LOCKED IN!
THE CRYPTKEEPER FIGHTS AGAINST SEESAW’S SIGNATURE HOLD, BUT THE CLOWN RAMPS UP THE PRESSURE!
Cryptkeeper’s hand claws the mat. His body is bent at a truly horrific angle, but the master of fables isn’t ready for this story to end just yet. With a guttural roar, he manages to wrestle one arm free.
CRYPTKEEPER SPINS OVER—DROP-TOE HOLD INTO THE ROPES!
SEESAW LANDS THROAT-FIRST!
The Champion clutches at his windpipe as he gags for air. ‘Keeper rises to his feet as though from the grave. He hits the opposing ropes and thunders towards SeeSaw—
‘KEEPER DIVES FEET-FIRST THROUGH THE ROPES, DROPPING HIS WEIGHT ACROSS THE BACK OF SEESAW’S NECK!
SeeSaw snaps back into the ring from the whiplash – taking the referee with him!
On the outside, The Storyteller’s attention is caught by the soft neon glow of the Slaughterhouse Championship belt. Could an illustration be in the books?
He rolls back into the ring and approaches the downed SeeSaw—
CANE TO THE MID-SECTION!
SEESAW HAS POSSESSION OF THE CRYPTKEEPER’S CANE!
‘Keeper doubles over, wheezing…
AND A SHOT TO THE HEAD FLOORS HIM!
SeeSaw disposes of the evidence and covers ‘Keeper. The referee slowly comes to and delivers a laboured count.
ONE!
…
TWO!
…
…
THREE!
NO!
KICKOUT!
SeeSaw laughs to himself as playtime takes an unexpected turn, the official still shaking the cobwebs off.
The Tranquility Lane resident bides his time as ‘Keeper recovers. He moves in behind him, lassoing his boney arms around his neck, ready for the snap-back—
WOODY’S ROUND-UP!
THE CRYPTKEEPER SPINS FREE—
UNSEEN EYE RAKE! IRISH WHIP… A BRICK WALL OF A BIG BOOT!
A BEGINNING, MIDDLE, AND WILL IT BE THE END!?
ONE!
TWO!
THR—FOOT ON THE ROPES!
SeeSaw narrowly holds onto his Slaughterhouse title!
‘Keeper nods and peels SeeSaw off the mat. He lobs him into the corner with such force that he flips upside-down! The Cursed runs in after him…
TREE OF WOE BASEBALL SLIDE – THE TALE OF WOE!
SeeSaw lands on his feet but is dazed and confused as he staggers backwards. ‘Keeper rises once more and cracks his elbow – it’s time to end this!
He advances on SeeSaw—
BUT HE SCOOPS HIM UP ONTO HIS SHOULDERS!
SEESAW HITS A SPINNING INVERSE DEATH VALLEY DRIVER—
BUT THE CRYPTKEEPER LANDS ON HIS FEET!
HE GOT OFF THE TEETER-TOTTER!
…
THE CURSE OF THE CRYPTKEEPER – OUT OF NOWHERE!
HE POPS HIM WITH THE SURPRISE EUROPEAN UPPERCUT!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
THE CRYPTKEEPER WINS!
The Storyteller with the proverbial tuck-in here tonight, as he puts SeeSaw to sleep and becomes the NEW Slaughterhouse Champion!
PUBLIC EXECUTION
SOMEWHERE ELSE
In a nice, suburban home, a man in his fifties is watching Public Execution when his wife comes down the stairs.
“Honey, you’ve watched him kill dozens of men, shouldn’t you take a break?”
“Not until I see him kill the bastard that raped and murdered our daughter. I need to see what I’ve been wanting to do for years, Helen.”
“Don’t they cover their face?”
“I know his number, I know his crimes, I know his body, I know his walk, I’ll know when it’s him.”
“Ok, do what you want but I’m going to sleep, Harold.”
Helen walks up the stairs while Harold is waiting for the next announcement. Mark Gouldern walks over the discarded bodies and speaks to the crowd.
“Number 508673, come to the center of the arena.”
“To those watching at home, he is here for 7 counts of murder, 3 counts of rape, and 2 counts of abduction.”
Harold wrings his hands together in glee, this is him, the man who took his world from him.
Static
“What the hell, I’ve been watching this for hours and now when it’s finally him, there are technical difficulties?!”
The PPV feed has been cut and Gouldern is trying to find the culprit.
“Who’s done this, people are already calling their cable providers and demanding refunds. X! Stop, we’re losing money at the moment! Something or someone has cut the camera feed and we need to find them!”
“Affirmative.”
X and Gouldern are marching until they find a culprit, a honey badger chewing on a cord. Gouldern winds back for a kick and Aesop emerges from the shadows to protect the creature.
“Run along now, little one. It is time for the one thing we humans are better at, conversation.”
The honey badger runs along by Aesop’s command. Gouldern gets in his face.
“Of course, you would pull something like this, protecting men who act like animals. What does this have to do with you?”
“An evil mind will show an evil action, sooner or later, Gouldern, and you have acted like the wolf a shepherd asks to watch his flock. Killing the sheep and showing your true nature the moment you can. While these men are not sheep, they aren’t all guilty.”
“You’re right.”
Gouldern shrugs.
“Statistically four percent of these men are innocent and will be killed for no reason. You want to take their place?”
Gouldern smirks and X winds his fist back. Banzan comes from behind and grips X’s fist.
“No, we’re here to teach you the first noble truth.”
“What? Life is suffering? Maybe for you, but Imperium is living pretty well.”
“At least you believe you are, there is nothing good about this, we will destroy all of this if you don’t give us a chance to save them.”
“Just say what you want.”
“A match where if we win, you cut the feed permanently and give them all their freedom.”
“What’s in that for us?”
“What do you request?”
“If we win, you restore the feed and find new victims for us.”
Gouldern wickedly smiles and reaches out his hand.
“If that’s what it requires.”
Banzan slaps his hand and Gouldern laughs and responds.
“Good, let’s do it right here, right now.”
“The sooner we get them saved, the better.”
Gouldern laughs and nods at X.
SPARTA KICK DOWN THE STAIRS!
THE MATCH IS STARTING!
AESOP & BANZAN VS. GOULDERN & X
TAG TEAM MATCH
The match, if you can call it that, has already started in Gouldern’s coliseum!
No bell is going to be rung today as Gouldern follows the fallen Banzan!
RUTHLESS INSPIRATION!
HE HITS THE STANDING DROPKICK!
BANZAN IN KNOCKED INTO THE SEATS NEARBY!
GOULDERN GRABS HIS HEAD AND WEDGES IT BETWEEN A SEAT AND BACKREST!
ANOTHER RUTHLESS INSPIRATION!
THAT DROPKICK CRUSHES BANZAN’S HEAD IN THE SEAT!
BANZAN IS OUT OF IT AND GOULDERN NODS TO X!
X instantly throws some stomach punches to Aesop! Aesop is hunched over and X drops him with a jumping knee strike! X pulls Aesop up by the hair and military presses him over his head! He marches towards the top of the stairs!
X LOOKS LIKE A MAN POSSESSED AND HE’S GOING TO THROW HIM DOWN!
NO! AESOP SLIPS OUT AND IS FRONT OF X NOW!
BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX DOWN THE STAIRS!
HE DOESN’T STOP!
HE PULLS X UP AND FOLLOWS WITH AN ALABAMA SLAM!
X IS CAUGHT OFF GUARD BY ACTUALLY HAVING TO FIGHT AFTER ALL THOSE EASY KILLS!
Aesop starts stomping away on X! Aesop is making sure he takes advantage of the rare mistake by X! Gouldern is slowly walking behind Aesop with something in his hand! What does he have?!
IT’S A TAZE GUN!
HE SHOOTS IT INTO THE BACK OF AESOP WHO INSTANTLY COLLAPSES!
HE IS WRITHING IN PAIN!
GOULDERN LOOKS DOWN AT AESOP AND HE TELLS X TO PULL HIM UP!
X LIFTS AESOP OFF THE GROUND BY HIS HAIR!
AESOP IS IN AGONY AND GOULDERN HITS HIM WITH A SUPERMAN PUNCH!
THE DISRUPTION AND AESOP IS DOWN IN A HEAP!
BOTH BANZAN AND AESOP LOOK TO BE TAKEN CARE OF!
IS IT ALL OVER?!
IT LOOKS LIKE IT!
X AND GOULDERN HAVE DONE IT!
PUBLIC EXECUTION CAN START AGAIN!
CRACK!
NO WAY! BANZAN HAS GOTTEN OUT OF HIS TRAP AND JUST LEVELED GOULDERN WITH THE BROKEN SEAT RIGHT TO THE BACK OF HIS HEAD!
Banzan swings it at X now but X catches the seat! Banzan doesn’t hesitate and dropkicks X’s leg! X falls face-first onto the seat! Banzan marches to Gouldern now! He wedges his head in between another seat for good measure!
MAGGA!
THE RUNNING KNEE STRIKE HITS FLUSH AND GOULDERN COLLAPSES!
HE IS OUT COLD!
IT LOOKS LIKE IT IS GOING TO BE 2 ON 1!
FLYING SEAT INCOMING!
X HITS BANZAN IN THE TEMPLE WITH PINPOINT PRECISION AND BANZAN IS STUNNED!
X CHARGES AT HIM!
EXECUTION!
A RUNNING DOUBLE AXE HANDLE!
BANZAN IS DOWN AND X LATS THE SEAT ON TOP OF BANZAN’S HEAD!
HE JUMPS ON THE SEAT!
CURB STOMP ON THE PAVEMENT AND BANZAN IS OUT COLD!
TWO MEN ARE LEFT!
X marches to Aesop and wrenches him back to his feet! He is carrying Aesop on his shoulders! He is taking x to the top of the stairs again! What is X thinking now?!
X STANDS ON THE BACK OF THE NEAREST SEAT NOW!
DEATH VALLEY DRIVER FROM THE TOP OF THE SEAT TO THE FLOOR!
AESOP LOOKS OUT OF IT AND X SITS DOWN ADMIRING HIS HANDIWORK!
X PULLS AESOP UP AND SITS HIM ON HIS LAP!
“SEE THIS? PEOPLE CARE ABOUT BRUTALITY NOT MORALITY ANYMORE.”
X LAUGHS AND LOCKS IN A REAR NAKED CHOKE!
MISSION COMPLETE!
AESOP IS FIGHTING BUT HE PASSES OUT AND X THROWS HIM ON THE FLOOR AND SHOUTS!
“YOU’RE NOT TAKING A MORSEL FROM US!”
BANZAN AND AESOP ARE BOTH OUT COLD AND IMPERIUM HAVE DONE IT!
What a win as X takes care of both men for his team and ensures starvation is not in his future!
COLLISION
THE MEAT LOCKER
The Meat Locker.
The Butcher walks through The Meat Locker, carefully swaying the carcasses out of his way as he walks.
Abruptly, he stops.
And stood before him is none other than Sigil.
“Finally, the games come to an end,” he barks. “I wondered if you’d have the courage to meet me face to face after all your lies.”
Sigil tilts his head.
“You need to stop this quest of yours,” The Collector warns. “Before I’m forced to have to stop it for you.”
“You have it, don’t you?” The Butcher asks. “You have the Timepiece?”
The Collector nods.
“Why’d you lie to me? We had an agreement. I wanted just one thing; one tiny thing and that’s all. You lied to Sorrow and told him I wanted his immortality when you know that’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Sigil asks. “Because had I given you what you wanted, what you desired most, you’d only want to find a way to keep it forever. How long would it have been before you wanted to go back again?”
The Butcher scoffs, turning away with his hands on his hips.
“You have no idea what this means, do you? You haven’t ever felt like this. You’re soulless and robotic, aren’t you? To deny me what I want after everything I did to get you that weapon is wrong.”
He grimaces, turning to look at Sigil who stands behind him. His face is full of rage.
“I won’t stop until I get what I want.”
Sigil nods. “Very well.”
THE BUTCHER VS. SIGIL
SINGLES MATCH
Both these warriors’ time will eventually come, but one of them could be dead meat as early as tonight!
The Butcher’s breath rises in the chill of The Meat Locker. He snorts and stomps his boot on the blood-soaked floor like an agitated bull. Sure enough, he charges across the room – carcasses bouncing off of his broad shoulders and swinging wildly like meaty pendulums. Sigil braces himself for impact—
COSMIC LEAP!
Sigil bends time and space, vanishing in the blink of an eye. Butcher slams on the brakes and avoids running head-first through the refrigerator wall. He chuckles; he saw that one coming. He whips round just in time—
FINITE!?
NO!
BUTCHER BLOCKS THE LEAPING ROUNDHOUSE KICK!
The sleazy Slaughterhouse proprietor grabs a nearby carcass. Its rusty chain rattles as he pulls it towards him and batters Sigil with it! The weight and momentum knock Sigil down to the ground, where Butcher mounts him. He pulverises him with ham hock hands, then palms his face and mashes the back of his head against the floor! Sigil tries to pry him off to no avail. If only he were more…
MERCIFUL!
SIGIL WITH A PUNISHING CHOP TO THE NECK!
The Butcher involuntarily releases his prey as his muscles spasm. The Collector blasts him with a headbutt using his adamantium mask – or is it unobtainium? Whichever the case, The Butcher falls forwards – one hand cupping his gushing nose, the other propping him up. Sigil rolls out from underneath him and grabs the back of his bald head. Grunting through his mask, he forces The Butcher’s head down lower and lower towards the blood-soaked floor, right above the drain! Butcher fights it and fights it…
SIGIL MOPS THE BUTCHER’S FACE IN THE CONGEALED ANIMAL BLOOD!
HE’S GOING TO CATCH THE FUCKING CORONAVIRUS!
With an almighty roar, The Butcher hurls Sigil off of him before rolling onto his back, coughing and spluttering. His salt-and-pepper stubble is matted with blood and gunk and god-knows-what-else.
A red mist descends over the man once known as Colin. The violent kingpin sits up, seething with rage, and trains his sights on Sigil. Standing up, almost losing his footing in the blood as he does so, he hitches up his trouser leg to reveal a leather sheath. From inside of it, he produces his cleaver. With a twisted lip and a snarl, he lunges at Sigil, brandishing the razor-sharp blade!
SIGIL DUCKS AND WEAVES BEHIND THE CARCASSES!
THE FRENZIED BUTCHER HACKS AND SLASHES AT HIM!
BLOOD SPRAYS UP THE WALLS AS CHUNKS OF MEAT FLY THROUGH THE AIR AND CARCASSES FALL!
BUT SOMEHOW SIGIL EMERGES UNSCATHED!
The Realm Walker slides a particularly beefy-looking side into The Butcher, who swings viciously –
HE STICKS HIS CLEAVER!
The Butcher growls as he tries to pull the blade free—
PLANESWALKER!
THE RUNNING FRONT DROPKICK SENDS THE BUCHER INTO THE REFRIGERATOR WALL – AND I DO MEAN INTO THE FUCKING WALL!
The lights flicker as The Butcher pulls himself out of the manmade cavity, having hopefully not inhaled any Freon.
Sigil advances, looking to take a memento of this encounter FOR THE COLLECTION! The onslaught of precision blows strike every nerve and weak spot on The Butcher’s hulking body. Joints, tendons, soft flesh – Sigil picks him apart!
BUT THE BUTCHER BLOCKS A DOUBLE EYE POKE WITH THE EDGE OF HIS HAND!
HE WRAPS HIS HANDS AROUND THE THROAT OF SIGIL AND SQUEEZES WITH EVERYTHING HE’S GOT – THE BUTCHER IS GOING TO CHOKE HIM OUT!
SIGIL IS FADING… BUT HE PULLS AN EMPTY MEAT HOOK TOWARDS HIM!
HE’S WRAPPING THE CHAIN AROUND THE BUTCHER’S NECK!
BOTH MEN ARE CHOKING THE LIFE OUT OF ONE ANOTHER!
Sigil’s breathing grows ragged behind his mask. The Butcher’s eyes roll into the back of his head…
THE BUTCHER LETS GO AND DROPS TO HIS KNEES – BUT NOW HE’S HANGING BY THE CHAIN!
He struggles to unwrap it, quickly turning blue. Still gasping for air, Sigil staggers behind him. What is he doing!?
“I’m afraid…” Sigil croaks, “You’re out of time.”
GERMAN SUPLEX—WITH A COSMIC LEAP—JOURNEY’S FUCKING END ONTO A GODDAMN MEAT HOOK!
JESUS CHRIST!
The Butcher HOWLS in pain as he is suspended on a meat hook AND has a chain wrapped around his thick neck.
Sigil has conquered The Butcher inside The Meat Locker, but does it end here? He has him between a rock and a hard place!
AT MERCY’S BLADE
THE MEAT LOCKER
“Is this what you want?” Sigil growls in exhaustion. “Is this what you need?”
The Butcher can barely speak.
“I’m in agony every single day,” he replies through gritted teeth, choking via the chain wrapped around his neck. “I can’t stop the pain. It’s burrowed deep in my soul.”
Finally, the truth.
Sigil sighs, almost musing beneath his mask.
“I wish I could help,” he admits, lowering his head. “When I made our agreement, I intended fully to honour it. But developments since then have changed matters. The causation of using this ability is grand. What you desire from it could change the universe in ways I dare not chance.”
The Butcher lowers his head, weeping.
“Then kill me now, at least that way I get peace.”
Sigil reaches down onto the floor and grabs a blade, holding it to the Butchers throat, right above the chain. He contemplates for a moment, deciding whether or not this is something he wants to do before dropping it.
“I won’t,” he says without shame. “I’m sorry Colin. I have no idea what you’re going through, or the pain you’re feeling, but I’ve had many chances to end your life and declined.”
The Butcher shakes his head.
“You’ll need to find another way.”
He releases him from the hook and unwraps the chain from around his neck. Exhausted, both physically and mentally, The Butcher stands up and looks Sigil in the eyes.
“You’re going to wish you killed me,” he hisses. “Because I won’t stop.”
“I know,” Sigil responds.
The Butcher storms out, leaving The Collector to contemplate what comes next in his transition to a master of time.
Suddenly, a voice comes from the shadows.
“Your mercy is a weakness,” the voice warns. “But I have a way to make you stronger.”
Cut.
BEG © VS. LUKE STORM © VS. THE RED DEATH
WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
Three men meet this eve, with the World Championship on the line. The Champion himself, the wheeling and dealing BEG who always has a plan, takes on the residing House Rulez champion in Luke Storm and the residing TKO Champion in The Red Death. This though, is for all the cookies in the cookie jar!
The Red Death wastes no time in taking the fight to Storm. His blows land heavy, each one looking to maim. He beats Luke Storm back into the corner, meanwhile, BEG merely stands by and watches. The war rages before him and the World Champion looks utterly relaxed. He slips out of the ring, unfolds a steel chair and plants himself in prime viewing position at ringside to watch Red Death and Storm tear each other apart.
RUNNING CORNER KICK FROM RED DEATH! LUKE STORM DROPS IN A HEAP!
RED DEATH PROCEEDS TO STOMP THE HOLY HELL OUT OF LUKE STORM!
LUKE STORM IS JUST BEING PUMMELLED!
Red Death backs up, charging back across the ring again…
GODWATCH!
NO! LUKE STORM CAUGHT HIM!
HE DRIVES RED DEATH INTO THE CANVAS WITH A SPINEBUSTER!
The Read Death doesn’t stay down for long, seeming to bounce up from the Spinebuster and meeting Storm with a Collar and Elbow tie. But the Crimson Scourge is swept up with an ELBOW STRIKE that stuns him. DEATH STAGGERS BACKWARDS…
BOOM!
JUMPING ENZIGURI SENDS THE RED DEATH REELING ACROSS THR RING AND INTO THE TURNBUCKLE!
LUKE STORM’S WELL EDUCATED STRIKES HIT HOME!
The Red Death tries to adjust his jaw after the strike and snap himself back into the action, even proceeding as much as pushing himself off the turnbuckle before Storm gets to him.
LIGHTNING STRIKE!
LUKE STORM ROCKS HIM TO THE CORE!
THE RED DEATH DROPS LIKE A SACK OF BRICKS!
AND AT RINGSIDE, BERKSHIRE ELLISON GREEN SIMPLY STANDS FROM HIS SEAT AND APPLAUDS!
After the Lightning Strike would normally prove an ample opportunity to go for the pinfall, but Luke Storm has no intention of pinning his foe. Not even for a moment does he attempt to make the fall. Instead, he looks set on wearing Red Death down even further and causing him as much pain as possible.
CROSS-LEGGED STF!
THE HOLD IS LOCKED IN AND RED DEATH HAS NOWHERE TO GO!
BUT LUKE STORM WATCHES THE HAND INTENTLY… BREAKING THE HOLD AT THE SLIGHTEST SIGN OF THE RED DEATH TAPPING OUT!
HE’S INTENTIONALLY TRYING TO NOT WIN…
AND TO WEAR DOWN THE RED DEATH AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE UNTIL THE TIME IS RIGHT!
Luke Storm breaks the hold, transitioning into an ARM BAR which he wrenches at an awkward angle to put pressure on Death’s shoulder. After a while, he moves from the ARM BAR, locking in an ABDOMINAL STRETCH… BUT RED DEATH BREAKS THE HOLD WITH A THUMB TO THE FREAKING EYE!
LUKE STORM IS BLINDED, STAGGERING ABOUT WILDLY SWINGING AT THE AIR!
RETURN TO ARKHAM!
THE DDT PLANTS LUKE STORM RIGHT IN THE CENTRE OF THE RING!
If that wasn’t enough, The Red Death stalks Luke Storm as he writhes in pain before pouncing once more. He lines him up at the opportune moment…
DARKNESS FALLS! DARKNESS FALLS!
WHAT A BLOODY CURBSTOMP!
HE JUST PUT LUKE STORM’S SKULL ALMOST THROUGH THE DAMNED MAT!
THE RED DEATH WASTES NO TIME IN HOOKING UP LUKE STORM FOR THE PINFALL!
THREE SECONDS AWAY FROM WINNING HIS FIRST WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!
…
…
…
ONE!
…
…
TWO!
…
…
HELL FREAKING NAW!
BEG! HE BLINDSIDES RED DEATH OUT OF NOWHERE!
THE WORLD CHAMPION HAS FINALLY DECIDED TO ACTUALLY ENTER THIS DAMNED MATCH!
The Red Death has no ideas what has hit him. By the time he gathers himself, BEG is already cleaning house and tossing the TKO Champion out of the ring. He lands roughly at Ringside and begins to claw himself to a vertical base, but Green heads him off with a SHITKICKING FUCKING PUNT TO THE FACE!
THE KICK PRACTICALLY TURNS RED DEATH’S MASK BACKWARDS!
EVEN EDWARD NEWTON FELT THAT ONE!
RED DEATH LOOKS LIKE HE’S OUT COLD ON HIS BACK!
BEG grabs The Red Death from behind, locking in a CHOKE HOLD! It is enough to see a stirring of life in Red Death’s eyes, a look of agony before what light remains begins to fade.
BEG WRAPS HIS LEGS AROUND RED DEATH, THE BODY SCISSORS HOLDING HIM FIRM AS HE FADES!
THIS COULD BE IT!
RED DEATH COULD BE OUT!
…
…
…
…
BUT SOMETHING STIRS IN HIM FROM DEEP WITHIN…
THE LIGHTS COME BACK ON!
THE RED DEATH GRABS GREENS HANDS AND WRIGGLES FREE!
Green swings a forearm at Red Death, but it is parried and followed by a FLURRY OF ELBOW STRIKES THAT BRING BEG TO HIS KNEES!
Then, the Red Death flings BEG back into the ring, following him in. Both men make it to their feet at the same time and meet in the middle of the ring. Brutal, clubbing blows are exchanged between the World Champ and the TKO Champion. Each shot rocks the other to the core, and each matches the other toe-for-toe.
DOUBLE AXE HANDLE MEETS DOUBLE AXE HANDLE!
UPPERCUT MEETS UPPERCUT!
A DOUBLE LOW BLOW… BOTH MEN STAGGER BACKWARDS!
It almost seems like nothing will break the stalemate between the two… Until…
RED JUSTICE!
THE RED DEATH JUST PLANTED THE WORLD CHAMPION IN THE CENTRE OF THE RING!
FIRST LUKE STORM, NOW BEG HIMSELF…
THE RED DEATH GOES FOR THE PINFALL!
ONE!
…
…
…
…
TWO!
…
…
…
…
NO! SO CLOSE AGAIN!
YOU GUESSED IT…
LUKE STORM COMES BACK INTO THE FRAY, TAKING OUT RED DEATH WITH A DOUBLE AXE HANDLE OF HIS OWN!
The Red Death is quick to scurry to his feet but to no avail, Luke Storm is waiting for him.
DOWNPOUR!
LUKE STORM NAILED IT!
…
…
THE RED DEATH IS DOWN!
BEG IS DOWN!
SOMEHOW… LUKE STORM IS THE ONLY MAN LEFT STANDING!
Luke collapses to his knees, battered and exhausted. Waiting for the other two men to show signs of life. Soon, soon, BEG and The Red Death both stir and find their way to their feet… Only… Luke Storm is waiting for them both.
LIGHTNING STRIKE TO THE RED DEATH!
THAT NEARLY KNOCKED THE CRIMSON OFF OF HIS MASK!
LIGHTNING STRIKE TO BEG!
BEG DIDN’T SEE IT COMING, BUT HE SURE AS HELL FELT IT!
LUKE STORM HAS JUST CLEANED HOUSE AND THIS PLACE HAS JUST FUCKING ERUPTED!
HE CLIMBS THE TURNBUCKLE!
POINTING TO HIS FANS!
WHAT FOLLOWS LIGHTNING?
THUNDER!
THUNDER!
HE LANDS SQUARELY ON THE RED DEATH, HOOKING THE LEG IN A PINFALL AS HE DOES SO!
ONE!
…
…
…
TWO!
…
…
…
THREE!
THE ROOF JUST LIFTED OFF THE SLAUGHTERHOUSE AS THE HAND CAME DOWN!
LUKE STORM IS YOUR NEEEEEEEEEW OSW WORLD CHAMPION!
AND WHAT A WAY TO WIN!
BUT SURELY, BERKSHIRE ELLISION GREEN IS NOT GOING TO BE HAPPY…
JUDGING BY THE FANS RECEPTION, THAT IS THE LAST THING ON LUKE STORM’S MIND RIGHT NOW!
THE ELIMINATOR
RINGSIDE
Luke Storm has done it!
The Ring King has not only become World Champion but a Double Champion at the very same time!
Unfortunately, in doing so, he’s betrayed everyone.
Berkshire Elision Green offered to save his daughter.
Edward Newton held her hostage and threatened him with her life.
But Luke Storm snapped and did the unthinkable.
Now he’ll have to suffer the consequences, of which have suddenly dawned on him.
“You’ve killed your daughter,” BEG hisses, slamming his hands down on the canvas in frustration at losing his title. “All you had to do is follow instructions!”
Just then, X, Mark Gouldern and Alton Whitlock make their way out towards the ring. Luke is cornered as Green gets up, angrily stood before him.
“But that’s the least of your concerns. You’ve just taken the crowning glory from Imperium and that just can’t happen.”
Imperium enter the ring and immediately attack, beating Luke Storm down like a dog in the middle of the ring. The Red Death meanwhile gets back to his feet on the outside, watching as his nemesis is pummelled before him.
Flash.
Suddenly, a portal opens up in the middle of the ring and drags X through it.
Where the fuck has he gone?
Another one appears.
It’s Sigil!
What the hell is The Collector doing?
He turns Mark Gouldern inside out with a Clothesline.
Alton Whitlock meanwhile is pummelling Luke Storm, who barely manages to kick him off and through the middle ropes.
Green runs at Sigil.
WHOOSH!
A ring of fire surrounds him, cutting the former World Champion off.
IT’S HELSTROM!
HELSTROM STANDS ALONGSIDE SIGIL!
What the fuck is happening?
Berkshire Ellison Green backs off, leaning against the turnbuckle.
“Meet the newest addition to Enigma,” a voice booms from the entrance ramp; it belongs to Edward Newton. “Sigil!”
Green shields his face, complaining.
“Why’re you protecting him?” He yells. “He disobeyed you too!”
“That he did,” Newton admits, pacing the entrance ramp. “But you know neither rhyme or reason for my issue with Luke Storm. He isn’t yours to manipulate, maim or torture.”
He grins sadistically.
“He’s mine.”
“Enough!” Yells yet another voice. It belongs to none other than The Butcher who storms out from behind the curtain to meet The Riddler on the entrance ramp. “If you fuckin’ idiots want to tear each other apart then by all means, let me facilitate it.”
That gets everyone’s attention.
By now, everyone besides X stands somewhere around ringside.
“At The Eliminator, Berkshire Ellison Green, Luke Storm, The Red Death, The Cryptkeeper, SeeSaw and Banzan will fight in the Main Event! Three Champions enter and I’m sorry Luke, but FOUR will exit.”
Green smiles.
“Meanwhile, Alton Whitlock will do battle with Helstrom in an Inferno Match!”
The fans cheer.
“Sigil will take on X in a Weapons of Mass Destruction Match! Barbed wire, C4, Glass tubes – you name it.”
Another cheer.
“And finally, Mark Gouldern will go toe to toe with you, Edward Newton, inside The House of Mirrors! You’ll have no choice but to look at yourselves in the mirror during that one!”
He looks at Edward who looks stoic, showing no emotion.
“If Enigma and Imperium want to tear each other apart then so be it. At The Eliminator, you’ll get exactly what the fuck you want.”
The Butcher tosses down his microphone and storms away leaving the two groups to stare each other down in the middle of the ring.
The Eliminator is going to be epic.
Cut.