Static covers the screen as a Play ► symbol appears in the bottom right-hand corner.
The Darkest of alleys.
In the pouring winter rain, two shadowy figures stand in the middle of a pitch-black alley with nothing but dumpsters and fire escapes around them. There’s a slight hesitance involved.
Finally, The Red Death is revealed under the bleak light.
“You made a wise decision in meeting with me,” he growls, sinister, with a hint of disgust. “I have a proposition for you.”
The other person can’t be seen. He or she stands in the shadows, listening.
You can see him adjust in the darkness – he’s tall, masculine. It’s definitely a he.
“I thought that’d get your attention,” Death continues. “We have her at Enigma Towers and she needs a little company. I can’t bring her to you and you can’t come with me.”
That’s a conundrum, isn’t it?
“No-one can know where the towers are; our location must remain secret. Edward doesn’t even know I’m here.”
The figure folds his arms.
“But he’s taking her for ice cream shortly, to keep her pliant and quiet. I was hoping you would interrupt their disgusting little outing,” Red says with a vile grin. “However you do that is up to you but no harm must come to Scarlett; I need to be the one to make Luke Storm suffer.”
Whoever stands in the shadow’s nods in agreement, though we can’t see much more than that. The Red Death carefully backs away, leaving the area.
Meanwhile, we see Luke Storm sat in a car opposite.
He’s tailing him.
TRIPLE THREAT MATCH
Three lunatics, it could be argued, stand in the ring. Scrimshaw, Marvolo II, and Mez. Each man surveys the scene, building a game plan in their mind as the bell sounds.
Mez charges at the sounding of the bell like a Pavlovian dog. He hurls his body at Marvolo II, who sidesteps and hits a stiff lariat, sending Mez crashing to the ground. Marvolo II and Scrimshaw quickly lock up but Mez grabs the leg of Marvolo and starts to BITE HIS CALF!
Distracted, Marvolo II looks down. BAM! A clubbing blow to the back of Marvolo II’s neck from Scrimshaw sends him crashing to the ground. Mez leaps onto the back of Marvolo II, who quickly gets onto all-fours. Scrimshaw bounces off the ropes and takes aim at Mez and Marvolo II, one of whom is riding the other like a donkey and smashing blows across his opponents face. CANNONBALL! Scrimshaw throws himself at the pair, squashing them to the mat.
Scrimshaw is the only man standing. Marvolo II is like an upturned tortoise, his bulbous gut making it difficult for him to right himself. Quickly Mez is to his feet. Scrimsaw lies in wait and the pair charge at one another, exchanging rapid right fists. Mez kicks the kneecap of Scrimshaw, sending him stumbling back and using the ropes for support. Mez sees his opportunity and bounces off the opposing ropes, charging at Scrimshaw and hurling his body towards him. GUT CHECK! Mez hits a spear using his head as the weapon! NO! Scrimshaw drops to the ground, holding the ropes open just in time. Mez flies through the ropes to the outside of the ring!
Scrimshaw turns just in time to see Marvolo II getting in his face. DOKUGIRI! A poison mist to the eyes of Scrimshaw! SUPLEX TO THE FACE! ONE! TWO! THREE!
Marvolo picks up a win this evening against 2 game opponents.
X’s footsteps echo in the gargantuan stillness of Sigil’s citadel. Ever-burning torches line the sandstone walls. After the events at the end of Stormborn, X has wandered here for what feels like an eternity.
Among the endless collection of strange objects, it’s the tall mirror at the end of a long row that catches X’s eye. It’s wood-framed and elaborately carved.
When X looks into it, no reflection of him looks back.
He stands there for a few moments, puzzled.
Then a voice comes from behind him.
“Lost your past, have you?”
“The mirror of Xelucard,” The Collector continues. “Shows those who stand before it the worst of their own memories. But it would seem you have none. No memories; at least none clear enough for a thing like this. What a charmed life you must lead as Imperium’s clueless lapdog.”
“Screw yourself,” X grunts. “I’m my own man.”
“Of course,” Sigil says with a hint of condescension. “A man without a past. No recollection.”
“Did you bring me here just to mock me?”
“I brought you here so it’d be easier to beat your friends senseless,” Sigil replies. “Now, I’ve come to get rid of you.”
Sigil takes a menacing step forward.
“I heard The Butcher screaming,” X says coldly, taking his own step forward. “All pissed off. Said you’ve got something called the timepiece. And that with it, you can control time.”
“He’s gone mad,” says Sigil.
“Bullshit. This thing–could it show me my past? Take me back?” X asks.
“It could. But I won’t,” Sigil says. “Time is a force stronger than even your ghastly arm. Best left untouched.”
“You scared to get messy?” X asks, laughing.
“Yes. In that regard.”
Sigil hesitates a second, then says:
“But not in this one.”
Suddenly, The Collector does two things at once: opens a portal on the floor behind X, and shoves the supersoldier backward. X falls downward into the empty alley behind The Slaughterhouse.
Sigil looks down at X from the portal as it hangs in midair.
“You should know,” he says, “that after you went through the portal, The Butcher declared it’s you and I at The Eliminator.”
“No past,” says X, grimacing as he stands up. “But we’ve certainly got a future.”
Sigil closes the portal.
#1 CONTENDERSHIP MATCH
With the #1 contendership to the Slaughterhouse title on the line, can the 2 Imperium members bring it home – or will the samurai or storyteller stand tall?
Gouldern nails Aesop with an immediate RUTHLESS INSPIRATION dropkick, sending him outside! X and Mark then train their sights on Ǝnigma’s Helstrom. They double-team it with their cybernetic and tech augmentations. Clotheslines, suplexes – it all culminates in a spike piledriver! ONE… TWO… Helstrom powers out! It sits up, only for X to apply the TONGAN DEATH GRIP! Wait… Helstrom’s dragon-armour is too strong – the nerve hold has NO EFFECT!
X breaks his grip as Mark leaps into the air… THE DISRUPTION—HELSTROM DUCKS IT—GOULDERN ACCIDENTALLY NAILS X with the Superman punch! Mark turns around and comes face-to-face with Aesop, who has re-entered this thing! The master of fables scoops him up into a crucifix powerbomb, presenting Helstrom with THE GIFT!
Helstrom is keen to deliver the KNIGHT’S JUDGEMENT scorpion crosslock! Aesop doesn’t chance Gouldern tapping out in this fatal 4-way, however, as he applies a cobra clutch to Helstrom, then pulls it to the mat and grapevines the legs! THE SERPENT SNATCHES THE SCORPION! Wait – X BREAKS IT UP WITH THE EXECUTION! Double-axe handle to the gut by The Lethal Weapon!
All 4 slowly rise, each of them looking for that one opportunity to end it – YINGLONG’S FLAME BY HELSTROM! The busaiku knee takes down X. It steps back into Aesop’s dragon sleeper, though! It fights the hold but gets spiked with the reverse DDT – AESOP’S FABLE! Aesop goes to cover – THE DISRUPTION! Mark clocks him with the Superman punch! ONE… TWO… THREE!
Gouldern will go on to challenge for the Slaughterhouse Championship!
The ring clears out, but Helstrom stays behind…
With only Helstrom in the ring, a chorus of boos erupts from the audience.
Because walking down the entrance ramp is none other than Alton Whitlock.
“Helstrom, your politics are all wrong.” A sadistic little grin spreads across the face of Whitlock.
Helstrom puts his hands on his hips.
“Truth is,” Whitlock continues. “In the choice between tyranny and oligarchy, you chose tyranny.”
Whitlock strolls slowly towards the ring.
“In the choice between serving one over serving many, you chose to serve one.”
Cups and beer bottles land all around Whitlock as he continues.
“OSW is no different than America at large, Helstrom. There are two parties you could have chosen from.”
Whitlock shakes his head.
“One party, which is represented by a child-napping, family murdering traitor. That’s right, a traitor not just to the OSW, but to God Himself, may he rest in peace.”
The fans jeer and boo the loudest they’ve ever done so! How dare he bring God into this!?
“You fine folks boo all you want, but it is well-documented that when Death took the Lord from us all, Edward Newton was banging his head against the wall in some loony bin down there in Florida.”
Whitlock rolls into the ring and stands to his feet.
“You, Helstrom, chose secrets, treachery, and riddles, over money, power, and glory.”
“Imperium has enriched the lives of everyone who joins its ranks. Enigma, on the other hand, has only sewn crime and discord among its members.”
Whitlock steps right into Helstrom’s personal space and stands there.
“The truth is, your illogical choice has me wondering about your state of mind. Is there even a brain sitting in the driver seat of all that armor?”
Whitlock pushes Helstrom’s forehead with his fingers.
“Or is Ed Newton’s hand shoved so far up your ass that you’ve become nothing more than a puppet in his show?”
BAM! Right hand from Helstrom!
Another right! Another right! The crowd is eating this shit up!
Whitlock WISELY drops and rolls out of the ring before the beating could continue!
Trash continues raining down on Alton.
“HEL-STROM! HEL-STROM! HEL-STROM!” Chants the crowd!
Whitlock backs up the entrance ramp.
“I gave you an opportunity to reconsider your choices. Instead, you chose to prove me right. You are nothing more than a puppet.”
Whitlock exits the ringside area as he speaks, “But before I set you aflame at Eliminator? I will strip you of your precious armor.”
Helstrom shakes his head.
But Whitlock’s voice utters one more sentence. “I know what happens once it’s removed.”
What does that mean?
It must mean something.
Because in the middle of the ring, a flame erupts!
And when it dissipates, Helstrom is gone.
Will the time travelling Chuck Miles have historical secrets for Javad Ebadi, or will the Historian use his knowledge to his advantage?
DING! DING! The bell sounds as Javad runs towards Miles to get the action moving quickly. Chuck side steps and pushes him towards the ropes, which Javad climbs with cat-like grace and springs backwards with a moonsault. Both men crash to the mat, where Ebadi quickly gets to his feet.
Ebadi throws his body forward once again, looking for a standing shooting star press but Chuck Miles quickly rolls out of the way and gets back to his feet just as Ebadi does the same. Chuck crosses the ring quickly, lowering his body and driving it into Ebadi’s gut with a spear!
Javad uses the momentum to handspring backwards away from the Doctor, before landing a quick dropkick to the head of Chuck Miles. Javad backs up towards the ropes to catch his breath, when Miles stumples to his feet. Ebadi climbs to the apron before springing to the top rope. ARCHIVAL!
The corkscrew forearm smash lands on target as Chuck is rattled. Ebadi picks up his opponent before wrapping his legs around him, stretching out and showing him the EIGHTH WONDER! The octopus stretch pulls on every joint eventually forcing the pacifistic wrestler to tap out in pain!
History proves that once the moving finger has writ, it can’t be undone as Javad Ebadi overcomes Chuck Miles.
We watch Luke Storm pull into The Slaughterhouse Car Park looking distressed. He was hoping to follow The Red Death back to his daughter but he came here instead. Reluctantly, he gets out of his car and is about to head inside when he notices a green glow out of the corner of his eye.
He walks towards it.
He’s suddenly transported to The Crypt itself.
Sat on a rocking style chair with the book in front of him is The Cryptkeeper.
Luke looks at him curiously.
“How did you know?” He asks, confused.
“How did I know that you wished to speak with me?” The Cryptkeeper asks. “I know everything, character.”
Luke steps forward, stopping before the table in which the book is seated.
“Do you know how this story ends?” Storm questions, almost out of desperation.
The Cryptkeeper nods knowingly.
“You have many stories to come, Luke Storm. This is but one cautionary tale in The Crypt.”
That doesn’t impress The World Champion who came here for more specific answers. He takes off his glasses and folds his arms.
“I need to know if Scarlett will be safe,” he demands. “I need to know if Newton will harm her in any way. Why won’t you tell me?”
“And spoil the ending?” The Cryptkeeper retorts. “This is just the middle of this specific story, character. The end is yet to come. Like I said, there’s many tales for Luke Storm and today is but one.”
The Cursed waves his hand away and Luke vanishes back into Car Park, right next to his car. He angrily slams his fist down on the top, grimacing with rage.
The justice system is often a long, drawn-out process. Will The Judge determine Junkrat’s innocence or guilt, or will the pyromaniac’s fuse burn out before the verdict?
Junkrat tears into The Judge with explosive punches, but the towering arbiter swats him away. Order grabs a headlock and cranks the neck. ‘Rat uses the ropes to throw him off, but Judge hurls the arsonist into the corner instead. He gathers steam, then charges in for a BIG SPLASH – BUT JUNKRAT DIVES OUT OF HARM’S WAY! JUDGE’S HORNED, METALLIC SKULL CRACKS OFF THE STEEL POST!
‘Rat is on him like a rash, more concussive lefts and rights. He hits the ropes and goes for a Thesz press – but Judge catches him! Hold on… THE CONCUSSION MINE tilt-a-whirl DDT! What a counter by Junkrat! ONE… TWO… COURT IS STILL IN SESSION! Junkrat cusses as Judge kicks out from his trademark move.
The wildcard points to the ropes, eliciting a pop as he goes up top. He’s looking for THE RIP-TIRE 450 splash – but The Judge is up, and he cuts him off! He has Junkrat up on his shoulders – PERFECT BALANCE! Junkrat fries in the electric chair drop! ONE… TWO… SHOULDER UP!
It’s anyone’s game now. Junkrat shakes off the cobwebs. He ducks under a clothesline by Judge, hitting the ropes – but he runs right into THE VERDICT! The Sparta kick floors the Mayor of Gary. Judge peels him off the mat and hoists him up into a powerbomb – RESTORATION! ONE… TWO… THREE!
The gavel has come down, and The Judge is victorious!
In the backstage area, Berkshire Ellison Green is alone with his thoughts. Last week he lost the OSW World Championship and the impact of that has been great. He looks utterly miserable when Banzan stops by.
Immediately, he stands.
These two old foes have history.
“It looks like we meet again,” Banzan muses. “And I see your devious ways have caught up with you. The universe works itself out in the end, does it not?”
“Did you come to gloat, is that it?” He asks, taking a seat once again with a dismissive shake of the head.
“That wouldn’t be wise,” Banzan admits. “After all, your companions defeated both myself and Aesop last week.”
That brings a grin to Green’s face.
“Then what do you want, Mountain?” The former Champion asks.
“There is a battle amongst us, a war if you will. Enigma and Imperium may very well tear each other to pieces before The Eliminator. The paradigm will shift depending on who is successful there and who fails.”
BEG nods, agreeing. “It’ll be beautiful,” he remarks.
“No, it won’t,” Banzan continues. “But with a war comes causalities; innocents will suffer. I’ve come to ask you to reconsider. If you go to war with Enigma, Old School Wrestling will suffer and inevitably, so will you.”
The former World Champion stands up, placing a hand on the shoulder of Banzan in a condescending manner.
“Hopefully, old foe, you’ll be the first causality.”
The Mountain steps back, shaking his head in disappointment.
“Perhaps,” he muses in return. “Or perhaps, just maybe, it’ll be you.”
Mark Gouldern is stood in front of two computer monitors. One shows some information related to Public Execution, while the other shows a technical readout of his Combat 2.0 system from earlier tonight. He studies them for a moment before his gauntlet flashes red. The monitors shut down, and the Herald smiles as a voice speaks into the now darkened room.
“Have something to hide, Mark?”
Gouldern turns to face the Riddler with the smile still on his face.
“I was wondering how long it’d take you to pay me a visit.” The Herald looks behind Newton. “You didn’t bring any backup?”
The look on Mark Gouldern’s face shows that he knows the answer to the question, but asked it anyway. Newton grins in response.
“I knew you’d be alone. Your soldier has other business to attend to.”
“Indeed.” Mark nods. “I’m glad to see you, Mr. Newton. I was expecting you.”
The Riddler takes in Gouldern’s setup.
“I’m delighted to know I was expected, though your courtesy appears to be slipping. I expected tea.”
“Have you ever broken a mirror, Mr. Newton?” The Herald asks, ignoring the insult.
“I’ve broken many things.” Newton coolly replies.
“Then you know the superstition that one will have seven years of bad luck if they break one?” Gouldern says, a smile on his face. “I broke one once, in a failed test of a piece of technology. The next seven years were wonderful, full of fulfilled expectations and rapid expansion of my ability to help people.”
He taps his gauntlet.
“So you might say I don’t believe in luck, Mr. Newton.” The gauntlet flashes green. “Nor do I believe in chance.”
The sound of steam escaping can be heard as a small compartment on the wall opens, and a cup of tea comes out. Newton nods in mock approval.
“Your point, Mr. Gouldern?” He queries.
“My point is simple. I know who you are, and what you’re capable of. Any potential areas of weakness for you to exploit have been safely hidden. Many of your foes have blindly rushed into war with you, expecting luck to carry them through to victory. Failure was their result. I don’t fail, Edward.”
Newton’s smile drops as Gouldern continues.
“I heard what the Butcher said. The House of Mirrors we’re to enter are for your benefit, and I am extremely curious to know why that is. Care to share?”
The Riddler allows a tight grin.
“Another time, my friend. Your preparations are impressive, but your intelligence will be your undoing. Just like a mirror, all men will break if hit in the right place. Good day, sir.”
Newton turns and walks away, leaving the tea alone. The Herald reaches out and picks it up, taking a drink.
TAG TEAM MATCH
Conflicting interests are at heart tonight, as Luke Storm finds himself having to team with SeeSaw to take on the duo of Banzan and BEG!
Storm and Banzan start things off as Storm immediately unloads a flurry of offense on Banzan, showing off his martial arts skills before Banzan shoves him away. Storm rears back for a hard kick, but Banzan switches into dragon stance, using Luke’s momentum to drop him with a judo-esque toss!
Storm is back to his feet but Banzan is right on top of him, switching to tiger stance before nailing the Storm King with a hard palm strike that sends Storm backpedaling right into a tag by SeeSaw. Mr. Make Believe charges at Banzan…WHO SENDS HIM CRASHING INTO THE TURNBUCKLE!
Green has a smirk on his face, demanding to be tagged in. Banzan does so reluctantly as Greene looks to take advantage, targeting the shoulder of SeeSaw in his offense. SeeSaw is in a world of hurt, but endures as he lifts Greene up…BAAAAAACKBODY DROP SENDS GREENE BACK DOWN HARD!
SeeSaw goes after the former OSW Champion, sending Greene to the ropes…SUPERFINE TURBINE BLAST! SeeSaw drops BEG hard with that gore and spinebuster as Green rolls to tag in Banzan, forcing SeeSaw to tag in Storm…WHO CATCHES THE MOUNTAIN BY SURPRISE WITH A DOWNPOUR! STORM MAKES THE COVER…ONE! TWO! THREE!
Storm manages to rain on the parade of Banzan and BEG as the ref raises his and SeeSaw’s arm in victory tonight, the two men glaring at each other after recent events they’ve been through!
The match draws to its conclusion, and we cut to find Aesop watching the ring from the backstage Gorilla position. He had watched the match with a vested interest. Now, he nods to himself, rubbing his hands together thoughtfully.
“There is a reason you’re free…”
A gruff voice sounds from the shadows behind him. It is followed by a firm hand that grasps his shoulder. Aesop spins around slowly to find Warden Johnson, the gargantuan figure of Mez flanking behind him.
“Or, I should say… There’s a reason you, of all people, were freed.”
Aesop does not speak, nor does he give any indication of his emotion. The Warden continues.
“I saw your value then, I see how useful you can be to me. Surely you are wise enough to see how we could make an arrangement mutually beneficial.”
Aesop slowly raises his arm and removes the Warden’s hand off his shoulder.
“A certain man, a farmer, was detained by a large storm without supplies to aid him. In order to survive, he first of all killed his sheep, and then his goats to eat. The storm still continuing, he was obliged to slaughter his oxen as well. On seeing this, his Dogs took counsel together, deciding to run away. They did not trust the farmer and the way he treated his household, and they did not want to be next.”
Aesop falls silent, having made his point. The Warden smiles.
“I thought you may say something like that…” He clicks his fingers. “Perhaps you need some… convincing.”
Mez moves in, grabbing Aesop by the throat and pressing him up against a wall. Lifting him by the neck until both feet are off the ground and he is choking Aesop out.
“I do hope you take the time to consider, Aesop. I’m not a man who takes kindly to bring told no. And I’d rather have you on my side than in my sights.”
Aesop’s eyes close as he slips into unconsciousness. At that moment, Banzan charges in, having reached the backstage area after his match. Pushing past BEG at his side, the Mountain blindsides Mez and knocks Aesop from his hands in the process. The Warden had scurried back out of the way in the scuffle, and hastily motions for Mez to make tracks with him as Banzan kneels before Aesop to asses the damage.
In an alley near The Slaughterhouse, Junkrat is waiting around like someone waiting for a blind date. Anytime someone comes near him, he gets excited but instantly saddened when it’s not who he’s waiting for. Finally, he sees the color he’s been wanting to see, bright red.
“Yes, yes, I knew that beautiful bitch would come back for me! Helstrom does love me!”
It’s not Helstrom, it’s simply a fool dressed in all red.
“Marvolo is here, Junkrat! Number one in your heart!”
“Don’t look so shocked, you wrote Marvolo a letter and everything, big beautiful bitch in red, number one, from a place no one else knows. I didn’t know you had those feelings about Marvolo! It was weird to find that note in the trash but reading those words and realizing now it’s you, it all makes sense! You’ve always been a peculiar one.”
Junkrat shrugs and goes along with it, after all, he needs a rebound.
“Heh, heh… yeah, you are a big beautiful bitch aren’t ya?”
“Maybe weird wording but Marvolo is hot yes. You know about Raquel though, I might be number two to them but we are number one to each other.”
“I can be number two to Raquel, I’m happy being number two. It might mean I’m shit but at least I’m a number to you…”
Marvolo is touched. It might be pity but he doesn’t want to hurt Junkrat.
“It’s hard to say yes, it’s all so new and surprising to Marvolo but it’s not a no, Junkie.
Marvolo winks and walks away. He smiles thinking he got away from Junkrat’s desires without hurting his feelings but he doesn’t see how happy Junkrat is behind him. He’s so happy he’s dancing and singing a little tune to the beat of we just got a letter from Blue’s Clues.
“I can still get some, I can still get some, I can still get some, wonder who’s first to come!”
His chance at holding world championship gold foiled by Luke Storm’s betrayal, The Red Death looks to take out his rage on an unsuspecting victim but can Pickpocket steal another victory from the fallen hero?
The bell sounds as the Red Death rushes forward with a massive kick to the stomach, sending Pickpocket flying across across the ring as he lands hard in the corner. Pocket barely hits the steel however before Death is upon him, a thunderous knee to the jaw echoes throughout the arena before Death hooks him into a headlock.
THE KILLING…NO! Pickpocket slips out, stumbling into the ropes as he nearly takes Death’s head off with DAYLIGHT ROBBERY! Death stumbles to his feet staggered from the clothesline as Pickpocket rushes forward, trying for a Monkey Flip but Death manages to land on his feet and as Pickpocket turns around,
GODWATCH! The massive knee stuns Pickpocket before a sickening RETURN TO ARKHAM DDT spikes Pickpocket into the mat. That should be all but Pocket is still stirring, fists clenching with rage as he tears the top turnbuckle cover off, revealing the steel beneath before peeling Pickpocket up off the mat.
THE KILLING JOKE RIGHT ON THE EXPOSED STEEL! Pickpocket is busted open, woozy on his knees but not for long as the crimson scourge leaps up, DARKNESS FALLS! Red Death curbstomps Pickpocket right into the mat, knocking him out cold.
Red Death does it, destroying Pickpocket here tonight but from the scowl on his face as he leaves, it did nothing to curb his unending rage.
The sound of a monkey screeching opens the scene as we are treated to face of poor BJ, the terrified tree rat sailing through the backstage of the Slaughterhouse, still trapped in the claws of the mighty spectral eagle, the likes of which…
Can’t find its way out?
The eagle flies in a circle around the most open part of the backstage, looking for an exit from this arena, all while BJ screeches his head off, seemingly getting dizzy from all the spinning.
“I heard him this way!”
“Then get a fuckin’ move on, boy!”
The unlikely duo of Scrimshaw and Pickpocket burst into the scene, their eyes now stuck on the eagle and BJ, both of them twirling around rapidly until, without warning, BJ drops from the eagles grasp! HE PLUMMETS INTO THE GROUND!
The poor monkey lands with a thud, bouncing repeatedly before coming to an abrupt stop. He stands up, stumbling around dazed before, without warning vomiting onto the ground! And in that vomit? The sparkly little coin that started this mess!
Pickpocket sighs with relief as he walks forward.
“Oh thank god, I was worried for a second that-”
However, he is cut off as BJ grabs the coin! He shows it triumphantly to Pickpocket and waves it overhead before the eagle swoops down and SNATCHES BJ from the ground! Pickpocket’s face drops, partially in anguish and partially in exhaustion as he watches BJ and the eagle crash through a nearby window, BJ fighting with the eagle over the coin as they soar into the distance!
Meanwhile, Scrimshaw walks up to Pickpocket and rolls his eyes, patting the poor thief’s back.
“Well, at least I know he’s the dumb one of you two… I think.”
Pickpocket looks towards Scrimshaw, his lip quivering a bit.
“Oh don’t go makin’ a face at me. Jus’… ugh.”
He sighs, walking away.
“Follow me,. I know where the coin came from, so I know where it’ll be goin’. I’ll jus’ be needin’ a map and me boat.”
The scene fades out as Pickpocket follows Scrimshaw, his spirits lifted ever so slightly.
A war has broken out in OSW and the first blood will be spilt tonight. Will the fallen politician do what very few have done or will he but another victim to the emerald manipulator?
The bell sounds as Whitlock rushes forward, pounding on an unsuspecting Newton with hard lefts and rights before lifting him up into the air and driving him back down in a snap with a suplex. Newton scrambles to his feet, Whitlock rushing forward with a giant lariat that nearly takes Newton’s head off. The Riddler stumbles to his feet over the ropes as he looks dazed on the apron.
Alton goes to pull him back in the ring but it was a ruse as Newton drives a thumb into his eye before snapping his neck over the top rope. Alton staggers away, holding his neck as Newton quickly gets back into the ring, grabbing Whitlock by the head and driving him into the mat with a lighting quick Russian LegSweep! Newton quickly covers
ONE…TW..WHITLOCK KICKS OUT! Newton tries to grab Whitlock’s legs for the Riddle Box but Whitlock manages to kick Newton in the face. Whitlock delivers a kick to the gut, PARTY…RIDDLE PIECE! Newton tosses it to the side as smoke fills the ring. Whitlock can barely see as Newton heads to the middle rope, AXE HAN…SPINEBUSTER!
Whitlock drives Newton into the mat, calling for the end but Newton slips out of Whitlock’s grasp, “accidentily” backing into the referee before tossing another RIDDLE PIECE right into Whitlock’s face. Alton is blinded as Newton quickly hoists him up onto his shoulders, delivering a lightning fast ENIGMA THEOREM Death Valley Driver before hooking the leg as the referee stumbles forward. ONE…TWO…THREE!!
Newton does it as he draws first blood for ∋nigma here tonight.
The Sand Dunes of Persia
The freezing harsh wind of the Persian Desert night howls. The pale sands of the mountainesque sand dunes whip and ripple like waves across the deepest, darkest ocean.
Within a valley a small camp of Persian troops have set up base for the evening. A fire whips in the wind as the soldiers, ragged in their appearance, huddle around it for warmth.
Above them, covered by the noise of the roaring wind, a portal quietly opens and shuts.
Back in the valley Javad Ebadi stands above his small army, a long, leather whip in hand. The crack of the whip echoes around the valley, the noise escaping into the darkness of the night. It’s noise is followed by the scream of the punisher soldier as his blood flicks to the ground with a slap, congealing in the sand.
Ebadi spits on the solder and bellows at him in Persian.
Meanwhile, The Judge watches on silently, and without a flicker of emotion.
“This is one I must keep an eye on.” The Judge muses to himself.
Ebadi cracks his whip again and a laceration peels open on the back of the solder, who, now lying in the sand, appears through the dark night wind, to be crying.
“A close eye, indeed.”
The portal opens.
The portal closes.
His judgment has begun.
THE MAIN EVENT
A match between collectors of a kind tonight. We have The Cryptkeeper taking on Sigil in our main event!
DING! DING! Crypt and Sigil circle each other in the ring, neither one willing to give up an edge. Sigil kicks the inside leg of Cryptkeeper! Another kick to the inside leg! Sigil trying to wear down Keeper here. A kick to the midsection! But Crypt grabs Sigil by the leg!
ENZIGUIRI by Sigil and that topples the Crypt Keeper! Sigil stands back up to his feet! Standing shooting star press by The Collector! He makes the cover!
NO! Kickout by the Cryptkeeper! Sigil transitions to a mount and sends a few stiff shots into Keeper’s head! But Crypt grabs Sigil by the throat!
The Cryptkeeper is squeezing the life out of Sigil’s neck! The choke hold allows him to stand to his feet, still keeping that boney hand of his around Sigil’s neck!
HOOK TO THE RIBS!
ANOTHER! ANOTHER! ANOTHER!
The Cryptkeeper keeps his hand around Sigil’s throat until he finally tosses The Collector into the turnbuckles!
Sigil stumbles out of the corner and lands face first on the mat!
And the Cryptkeeper performs a BIG LEG DROP over the back of Sigil’s neck! But the Keeper isn’t done. He transitions from the draped leg across the back of sigil’s neck to an STF!! He’s clearly working Sigil’s neck here!
Sigil screams out in pain! With his free hand he reaches and crawls and scrapes towards the ropes!
Finally, Sigil gets there! Keeper breaks the hold and stands up, sending a boot into Sigil’s kidney. He picks Sigil up from the ground and lifts him high into the air with a gorilla press!
SIGIL SLITHERS AWAY AND LANDS BEHIND THE CRYPTKEEPER!
KEEPER TURNS AROUND!
FINITE BY SIGIL!
Sigil bounces off the ropes!
TORNADO DDT SPIKES THE STORY TELLER ON HIS CRANIUM!
Cryptkeeper lands flat on his back!
Sigil immediately leaps to his feet and springboards to the top turnbuckle!
FIVE STAR FROG SPLASH BY SIGIL! HE ONCE AGAIN HOOKS THE LEG AND GOES FOR THE COVER!
The Cryptkeeper kicks out just in the nick of time! Sigil pounds the mat, extremely frustrated! But The Collector has a plan. He moves to the corner of the ring and prepares himself!
Cryptkeeper slowly starts climbing to his feet! He reaches one knee!
He finally staggers to a standing position!
SIGIL RUNS ACROSS THE RING!
NO! CRYPT SIDESTEPS IT!
SIGIL LANDS ON HIS BACK!!!
PUNT KICK ACROSS THE SIDE OF SIGIL’S HEAD!!!
Sigil might fucking be out cold!!! But The Cryptkeeper wants to make sure of it!! He drags Sigil up to his woozy feet!!
BUMPS HIS HEAD!!! THE SPIKE PILEDRIVER!!!
CRYPTKEEPER MAKES THE COVER!!!
NO!!! SIGIL’S FOOT FOUND THE BOTTOM ROPE!!!
The Cryptkeeper angrily stands to his feet and drags Sigil to his! He whips Sigil into the ropes! BACK BODY DROP! NO!!!
Sigil stops on the way!
HIS BOOT CONNECTS TO CRYPTKEEPER’S FACE!
THE KEEPER STUMBLES BACK INTO THE ROPES!
CLOTHESLINE FROM SIGIL SENDS HIM OVER THE TOP!
But Sigil isn’t remotely finished.
Once again he climbs to the top turnbuckle. Once again he tries to time his spot perfectly.
Cryptkeeper once again slowly reaches his feet. As he staggers up to his feet, SIGIL LEAPS!!!
HURRICANRANA!!! THE KEEPER’S BODY IS FLUNG INTO THE FUCKING GUARD RAIL!!
Jesus fucking Christ!!!
Sigil and Cryptkeeper both lay on their backs outside the ring after that spot. Eventually Sigil is able to move to his feet, and he reaches under the ring and grabs a steel chair!
He throws the steel chair into Keeper’s head! Holy fuck!
Sigil picks the steel chair back up and raises it over his head!
LOW BLOW!! LOW BLOW BY THE CRYPTKEEPER!!! SIGIL DROPS THE STEEL CHAIR!
KEEPER PICKS IT UP!!!
HE NAILS SIGIL RIGHT OVER HIS HEAD WITH IT! SIGIL DROPS TO THE GROUND!!!
CRACK!!! The steel chair collides with Sigil’s back!!!
Cryptkeeper lifts Sigil to his feet and rolls him into the ring. The Keeper throws the chair into the ring and rolls in behind Sigil.
Keeper drags Sigil to his feet! He drags Sigil over the steel chair!
DDT ONTO THE CHAIR!!! NO!!! SIGIL REVERSES!!! NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX INTO A PINFALL ATTEMPT!!!
NOOOOOOO!!! KEEPER KICKS OUT WITH NOT A MOMENT TO SPARE!!!
Sigil nearly pulled it out right there! He can’t believe it.
Neither can Keeper, who is already up to his feet!
He rakes Sigil’s eyes! He irish whips Sigil into the ropes!
CRYPT PICKS UP THE CHAIR AND THROWS IT TO SIGIL!
SIGIL CATCHES IT!
A BEGINNING, MIDDLE, AND END!
THE CHAIR SMASHES INTO SIGIL’S MASK AND SIGIL HITS THE MAT!
Sigil is in bad shape now, because the Cryptkeeper stands over him with the steel chair in his hand!
HE NAILS SIGIL WITH IT!
AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN!!!
Sigil cosmic leaps out of the way of that final kill shot from the steel chair!
Cryptkeeper looks around for Sigil!
But Sigil reappears right in front of him!
FOR THE COLLECTION!!! SIGIL WITH A VICIOUS SERIES OF CLAW-LIKE BLOWS!!!
CLAW STRIKE TO THE NECK!
CLAW STRIKE TO THE SHOULDER!
CLAW STRIKE TO THE HEART!
IT’S ALL SIGIL RIGHT NOW!
A flurry of kicks work the Cryptkeeper into the corner! He grabs Keeper by the arm and whips him into the opposite corner!
Cryptkeeper hits the turnbuckles!
PLANESWALKER!!! SIGIL HITS THAT VICIOUS KICK!!! HE MAKES THE COVER!!!
Sigil picks up a huge main event victory over The Cryptkeeper, handing him his first loss in his OSW career.
In a darkened room we see a solitary light sat in the middle of a large rounded oak table. There’s sigils etched into the table of all kinds of varieties. Sat at one part of the table is The Butcher and at the other, a pale ravened haired woman.
“Why have you come?” She asks, tapping her long claw like nails on the table. “Do you wish to communicate with the deceased?”
“I do,” he agrees with a nod. “It’s… my…”
Suddenly, the raven-haired woman thrusts her head back, humming, as if in some kind of trance. The Butcher sits back awkwardly in his chair, watching with a perturbed look on his face. When the woman stops, her eyes are rolled back into her head but she’s facing directly at him.
“What have you done?” A deeper more masculine voice roars from this petite woman. “Old School Wrestling was not yours to take.”
The Butcher doesn’t know what to say at first. He just stares.
“Where are the keys?” She demands to know. “What did you do with them?”
“You’ve gotten the wrong person,” The Butcher replies. “I don’t have any keys. When The Tap Room was destroyed, I stole the company and moved it.”
She laughs maniacally.
“You have no idea what you’ve taken, do you? Five keys were used to secure The Tap Room – they were used to stop the world from being destroyed. It kept the balance of good and evil intact.”
That just further confuses The Butcher.
“The OSW World, VHS, Double Feature, Rewind and Tag Team Championships were keys. Where are they?”
He thinks about it for a second.
“They’re in storage,” he grumbles. “I brought in new Championships.”
“Retrieve them,” she growls angrily. “Once defended, they will bind themselves to your building. You will need it.”
Suddenly, the woman collapses, as if whatever held her let her go. The Butcher rushes to her aide, helping her to sit up.
“That spirit was furious; I suggest you do what he says.”
“I don’t understand,” he replies. “Why?”
“I could feel the fear in his control. He was afraid. Something has the spirit apprehensive. They do not tend to steer you wrong, so follow its instructions.”
The Butcher nods.
It’s the middle of the night and you’d expect very little to be open.
However, Edward Newton has found a secluded little ice cream store in the middle of New York that with a little threat or two has decided to stay open late and cater to The Riddler.
He sits at round table with Scarlett, the pair enjoying their ice cream.
“When will my daddy come and get me?” She asks cautiously. Edward peers over his ice cream, frowning. “It’s not that I’m having a bad time staying with you, it’s just… The Red Death scares me and I miss my dad.”
“Don’t worry about him, he isn’t allowed to talk to you,” Newton reminds her.
“But,” she blurts out. “But he came to my room the other night and told me how evil my daddy is. I don’t believe him, but it scared me.”
Edward’s snarls slightly, angered by the information.
“Your father isn’t evil,” Newton promises. “Truth be told, he’s far from it. He did something to me, something unforgivable; but that doesn’t make him evil.”
“Are you going to hurt him, Mr. Newton?” Scarlett asks.
Before Edward can respond, he’s walloped over the head by one of the chairs, knocking him for six.
Scarlett screams but nothing comes out.
A white hand clasps around her face, muffling her cries.
Oh no, what has The Red Death done?
He scoops Scarlett up and runs out of the store with her, into the night, as Edward slowly comes to and realizes what’s happened.
The Riddler rushes out of the store in a panic, blood streaming from the back of his head, only she’s gone.
Edward feels around the back of his head, coming across a shard of wood buried in it. He angrily pulls it out, tossing it aside, before grabbing his cell phone.
He dials a number, not an ounce of reluctance in his mind.
“Luke, he took her.”
“Death?” He growls back angrily.
“No,” Newton mumbles. “A former foe.”
There’s a pause. We can hear Luke screaming who in the background.
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