WARZONE #394
THE LOST
With strange happenings across Ascension, we endeavour to learn whether those who wandered are indeed lost. With a baron card, Old School Wrestling finds itself in dire need of answers. Where has everyone gone? What's happened to half the roster?
Boundaries
Click.
Static covers the screen as a Play ► symbol appears in the bottom right-hand corner.
Klaus Way sits inside of his personal tent, shuffling papers atop of a mahogany desk and humming to himself when the sound of a tent flap fluttering open draws his eyes up to see Michaela standing before him. She looks away, clutching an arm awkwardly before glancing towards Klaus.
"I... Want to talk to my dad." The request comes out as a pitiful whisper but Klaus fires back with rancorous disdain.
"No." The Ringmaster rises, coat tails flowing behind him as he marches to Michaela. "We talked about this, didn't we? You didn't want to speak to him."
"You decided that-"
"Excuse me?" Michaela's attempt at a rebuttal is snuffed out like an ember under Klaus' heel. He wraps a hand roughly around her wrist, pulling her towards him. "How about we talk about boundaries, Michaela. When you're in my tent, when you belong to my circus? My word is law."
His glare pierces holes in Michaela who merely shrinks away, nodding her head quietly.
"No." Klaus chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. "When I tell you something, I expect you to look me in the eye and tell me you understand. You will never see your deadbeat father ever again. You will do as you are told and you will thank me for the pleasure."
There's a silence, Michaela still as a statue when Klaus pulls her towards him again. "Say it."
"I-I'm sorry for overstepping. Thank you for making such hard decisions for me."
A smile finally spreads across Klaus' face, letting Michaela go. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Now, go. I have more important matters to attend to."
Michaela disappears the way she came, quickly, quietly.
Tears streaming down her face.
Cut.
The Blood Canvas
The scene opens with the sickly hum of buzzing flies. The air is thick, metallic, heavy with the stench of blood and iron. Candlelight flickers across walls painted with horror—streaks of crimson handprints, smears of viscera, the kind of artistry only Jasper Redgrave could call beauty.
At the center of the room, bound to a rusted operating table, lies Tombstone. What remains of him, at least. His once-imposing frame is carved apart, flesh crosshatched with deep incisions, muscle and sinew exposed beneath his torn shirt. His face is cracked down the middle, one hollow eye glinting faintly in the candlelight.
Jasper Redgrave stands over him, soaked in blood, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes are wild—ecstatic, euphoric—as he drags the blade of a scalpel along Tombstone’s arm, tracing it like an artist admiring his final strokes.
“You know what the best part is?” Jasper whispers, his voice trembling with delight. “You never die. You never stay gone. Every time I carve you open, you come back… and I get to do it again. It’s beautiful, Ferryman. Eternal art.”
He laughs—a breathless, trembling laugh that echoes off the stone walls, bouncing like a hymn to madness.
Tombstone barely stirs. His breathing is shallow, labored. His lips move faintly, too weak to form words.
“Ah,” Jasper croons, placing a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Don’t speak. You’ll ruin it. You’re the canvas, not the critic.”
He wipes a streak of blood from his cheek, smearing it into his own skin like paint. “And soon, when you finally stop coming back… when I’ve drained every ounce of you—then you’ll truly be a masterpiece.”
He raises the scalpel again—
CRASH.
The door explodes inward.
Masked men flood into the chamber—black uniforms, no insignias, faces hidden behind featureless masks. The air fills with shouts and chaos. Jasper stumbles back, caught off guard as two of the men seize him by the arms.
“What is this?!” Jasper screams, thrashing violently. “Unhand me! You’re ruining it!”
Another pair of masked men move to Tombstone. They wheel the rusted table away from the center of the room, securing his limp body as the blood drips to the floor in a thick, steady rhythm.
Jasper fights against his captors, screaming and laughing all at once. “You’ll regret this! You don’t understand what I’ve made here! He’s mine! Mine!”
His voice fades into ragged laughter as they drag him out the door, his boots scraping across the concrete.
The camera lingers on Tombstone’s hand as it twitches—just once—his fingers curling faintly against the blood-soaked table.
The lantern light flickers. The chains rattle.
And then—
Cut to black.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: We have a big matchup here between two former...teammates as they look to grab some much needed momentum having lost a little footing over these last few months.
MATT RUBY: Hey, just cause Narcy Doll has been doing some housekeeping doesn't mean she's slipping. She'll prove it by shutting down this has been chef in seconds.
The bell sounds as Narcissa rushes to the ropes, handspringing forward as she's allready looking for the Trendkiller. Savor dodging at the last second as he manages to grab Narcissa around the waist
SNAP GERMAN!
Narcissa slowly staggers up into a flurry of rapid chops before a spinning back elbow rocks Hera, Anton leaping up as he tries to lock in the Guillotine but Narcissa stumbles into the ropes, forcing the break from Cole Holt.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Narcissa on the backfoot here as she gets a lucky stumble to stop what could've ended the match right there.
MATT RUBY: Hey Narcy's just getting warmed up, she's about to cook Savor's goose here.
Savor backs up, looking for a little Creme Brulee' but Narcissa manages to duck, grabbing Savor's feet as she does
AND DELIVERING A DROP TOE HOLD, SENDING HIM THROAT FIRST ONTO THE SECOND ROPE!
Narcissa rolls back, rushing forward
MATT RUBY: My Queen doing the Cat Walk on that hack's back, I love it BB.
Narcissa caps off the Cat Walk with a hard Tiger Feint kick through the ropes, sending Savor flying forward as she gets onto the apron, waiting for him to get to his feet.
HAUTE...BRULEE! Savor counters the Dragonrana out of nowhere with a brutal Superkick to the jaw, dropping Narcissa like a rock. Savor kneels down, hooking the leg as Holt slides in to count
ONE
............
TWO
.............
...............
THREE!!!
MATT RUBY: What the hell is Cole Holt doing? Savor had to have paid him off, or Gemini got to him. There's no way Narcy Doll lost clean there.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Everyone saw it Ruby, Anton Savor is the winner here tonight and if Gemini gets her way, your 'Narcy Doll' won't be winning ever again.
You Haven't Won Yet
Anton Savor slides out of the ring and makes his way to the back, leaving Narcissa alone to recover from the match. As she rolls onto her stomach, she demands a microphone from the announcer's desk, which is handed to her by a security guard.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Reckon we'll get a statement on what happened last week before Gemini was taken?
MATT RUBY: Having our Queen address us period is an honor, BB. Although, given the destruction the Rogue caused in her locker room, I wouldn't be surprised if she brings it up.
"Gemini!" Narcissa growls as gets back to her feet. "You think you can just waltz into my locker room, ransack it, and destroy my belongings!?"
Hera walks towards the entrance ramp side of the ring. She leans on the ropes as she looks towards the backstage area, anger written all over her face.
"And for what? A VHS tape that you thought had proof of your involvement in the Red Light District blowing up!?"
Just as quick as it came, however, her anger subsides into an arrogant smirk.
"It's a good thing that the tape had nothing on it then."
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: The RLD cassette was a red herring? Gemini didn't destroy anything after all?
MATT RUBY: Ingenious move by our Queen!
"And even if it did, what would make you think Night would forgive you? What makes you think that destroying evidence would somehow clear your name in his mind?"
Narcy's smile grows wider as she looks out to the crowd, unaware that several masked individuals are making their way through the patrons in the aisles behind her.
"As far as I'm concerned, that's an admission of guilt. You just ruined any chance you had of redeeming yourself by destroying that decoy in my locker."
She laughs to herself, but it's quickly cut off as the masked people storm the ring and snatch her from behind.
MATT RUBY: No, my queen! Security! Stop them!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: What makes you think they can help, Ruby? There's at least fifty of them, but only twenty guards stationed in Olympus!
Security officials try to help, but the numbers game proves to be too much. They manage to drag Narcissa out of the ring and towards the back while holding off the guards. Once Hera is out of sight, the rest of the masked men vanish into the crowd.
Cut.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Tonight, two men whose lives have been shaped by the manipulation are doing battle.
MATT RUBY: Yeah, one became a psychopathic Clown, and the other became a depressed, brooding emo crybaby.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Matt, both men are double tough, and you wouldn’t stand a chance against either one of these two.
Mills Stanton calls for the bell, and we’re underway as Destructo rushes Hatchet Running-Diving Headbutt to the Solar Plexus of The Clown, who appears to shrug off the blow. The Juggalo scruffs his smaller foe, grabbing The Anti-Hero by the back of his neck – WIG SPLIT – Massive Fucking Headbutt dazes Destructo.
Hatchet stays on the attack, sending Destructo into the ropes. Big Boot – No! - SEE NO FUCKING EVIL! Shining Wizard cracks the face paint of the Juggalo, dropping him to a knee! Destructo moves to slip behind The Clown – NO JUST – PONY DOWN – The Juggalo counters the Omega Driver into Back Breaker, slamming the spine of Destructo into his knee!
Hatchet signals that he’s going to put this away as he mocks shooting Destructo, lifting The Anti-Hero onto his shoulders. TK-NO! Destructo Counters the SELF-TITLED into a Diving Reverse DDT!
Destructo, seeing an opening, rushes to the Top Turnbuckle, looking out at his target - YOUR FINAL BREATH – Shooting Star Knee Drop lands full force on the chest of Hatchet. Destructo hooks the leg of The Juggalo, knees still planted on his chest as Stanton makes count!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Masterful counter wrestling by Destructo to come out on top on here tonight!
MATT RUBY: Still depressed, little emo crybaby if you ask me.
Nothing
Previously Recorded.
The Church.
Chains rattle in the dark.
El Mariachi Muerte hangs from rusted cuffs, blood dripping from his lip, breath slow and ragged. The only light in the room comes from a flickering bulb swinging overhead.
Across from him, Ezekiel Graves stands in shadow.
MATT RUBY: El Mariachi Muerte is feeling the Lord’s wrath, BB.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: But Muerte has nothing to do with any of this!?
“Who took Nero?” Graves demands again, voice low, controlled but fraying. “Who took Rose?”
“I don’t know,” Muerte spits. “I don’t even know who Rose is.”
Another blow.
Graves’ knuckles are raw. He’s been at this for hours. Maybe longer. Muerte’s face is swollen, one eye nearly shut.
“You and Caido have been connected all along,” Graves growls. “You claim the same heritage, he carries your guitar. You had to know what Caído was planning.”
“I would kill him if I could,” Muerte mutters, head slumping forward. “But I am nothing and he is everything.”
Silence stretches.
Graves watches him, expression unreadable. Then he steps forward and, without warning, unlocks the chains. Muerte drops to his knees with a grunt.
Graves kneels beside him, gripping his collar.
“You’re right. You are nothing.”
He lets go.
“You’re free to go,” Graves says, turning his back. “You’ve got nothing I need.”
Muerte coughs, wiping blood from his mouth. He doesn’t look back.
He limps out of the chamber, through the cold stone corridors of Graves’ sanctum.
At the threshold of the chapel, he pauses to look up at the cross.
“The only nothing here is you, el pastor.”
Cut.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: The former Mariachi of Death has had maybe the worst month of his life and looking at his opponent tonight, that may not change as he's fighting the most evil bastard in Arcadia.
MATT RUBY: You say evil bastard, I say uber genius BB, Nox is the master puppeteer here and he's about to play Muerte like the expert guitar player he never was.
EMM rushes forward, ducking underneath a Lariat attempt before leaping off the ropes and sending Nox flying with a headscissors. Nox stumbles up into a dropkick, then a second before a hard enziguri drops him to the mat.
EMM quickly rushes to the ropes, leaping up to the top as he sizes Nox up but he seems...shaky on his feet. He goes to dive off but his foot gets caught in the top rope as EMM crashes back first onto the mat.
MATT RUBY: HA! I knew it. Without his guitar, Muerte's nothing much then an Acapella failure.
Muerte stumbles up right into the waiting arms of Nox who wrings his arm
SHORT ARM CLOTHESLINE! SHORT ARM CLOTHESLINE! SHORT ARM CLOTHESLINE!
GET THE FUCK OVER HERE!
The trio of Clotheslines wreck Muerte who slowly stumbles up, sending a wild right at Nox who dodges it. trying to grab Muerte for the Dragon but EMM slips out before rocking Nox with a Stiff DDT
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: EMM going onto the apron for another high risk but can he hit it this time?
EMM leaps up onto the top rope, diving forward as Nox staggers up
MALICIOUS SONATA! Springboard Stunner hits hard, Nox crashes to the mat as Muerte scrambles over to hook the leg. Demi Sky sliding in to count the
ONE
.............
TWO
..............
................
THREE!!!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Well you were wrong Ruby, Muerte might not be 100% but he still managed to put Nox down here.
Alone
Moments after the match, we cut to find Felix Foley ready backstage in gorilla position. That’s when Nox walks back through the arena entrance.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Oh, well this may be a little bit of an awkward encounter.
MATT RUBY: As if these two didn’t have enough reasons to hate each other, Felix Foley was the one that freed Destructo from Nox’s laboratory.
Nox stops dead in his tracks, eyeballing Felix Foley who returns the gaze.
“I have you to thank for the fact that Destructo still breathes,” Nox mocks. “Just when I was about to rid the world of that pest once and for all.”
Foley doesn’t answer. At least not with his words. He simply starts swinging at Nox, the pair locking up into a tossle that soon spills out into the backstage hallway. Fists swing until Nox lands a particularly decent shot that staggers Foley. He falls against a collection of gear boxes.
Nox laughs his wheezing laugh, but this is cut off as masked men approach from all around. He tries to fight them off, but only manages to topple a stack of crates to the ground. His pouch of vials is torn from him, with the glass shattering to the ground. They drag him away, still protesting.
Moments later, Destructo happens across the scene, he looks at Foley, who by now had knelt down next to the shattered vials now leaking a pool of putrid green liquid.
“What the fuck?” Destructo grabs Foley by the scruff of the neck. “What did you do?”
Foley backs away, protesting his innocence but Destructo isn’t having it.
“I told you that Nox was mine alone. Did you not hear me or do you not care?”
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Felix couldn’t help anything. Nox jumped him, and the masked men carried Nox away.
MATT RUBY: Destructo was clear, he wanted Nox for himself. Why shouldn’t he wipe the smile off Felix’s face for betraying him?
Destructo looks like he’s ready to strike, but Felix remains sympathetic to him.
“Look, kid. I know what you’re going through. You don’t understand, it wasn’t me…”
But Destructo can’t listen, or can’t hear through his anger.
“Wait… Destructo. You’re not safe!” Felix calls after him. He moves to chase him down, but stops. He has a match next and can’t go playing the hero right now. Shaking his head, he moves back through to gorilla.
Destructo storms off, ignorant to Foley’s warning that the same fate that befell Nox would be waiting for him.
Sure enough, when he turns the corner, the same masked figures are waiting for him. A blow to the back of the head crumples Destructo from behind and they capture him too.
Cut.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Ever since he started, Slade Kincaid has made a huge impact in Arcadia, beating former top contenders and world champions alike and he's facing up against one of the very best here tonight.
MATT RUBY: Kincaid beat the hell out of Hatchet last week and now he's about to put Friendly out to pasture. I can't wait BB.
The bell sounds as Felix rushes forward, trying to show Kincaid HOW THESE BOOTS WERE MADE FOR BOOTING but the usual knockout Boot just staggers Slade who stumbles into the ropes before chuckling as he asks Felix for another.
Felix nods before rushing to the ropes, bouncing off
RIGHT INTO A BOOT FROM KINCAID!
The sheer force nearly knocks Felix out as he slowly stumbles up into some rapid fire palm strikes, a massive Supressing Fire elbow rocking Friendly before he's lifted up high
AND NEARLY PLANTED THROUGH THE MAT WITH A MAMMOTH POWERBOMB!
MATT RUBY: Kincaid absolutely dominating Felix here, you love to see it.
Kincaid doesn't cover, instead grabbing Felix by the throat as he pulls him to his feet. Kincaid wraps his arm, looking for that finishing blow.
PEACE...HIS HEAD! Felix ducks the Lariat, lifting Kincaid up and spiking him down to the mat with the Death Valley Driver.
The crowd roar as Felix lifts his arm up high, his fingers poised.
KINCAID EXPLODES UPWARDS WITH A HEADBUTT! Felix is rocked as Kincaid grabs his arm, spinning him
INTO THE PEACEKILLER! The Lariat turns Foley inside out, Kincaid dropping down and hooking the leg as Mills Stanton slides in to count
ONE
.............
TWO
............
................
THREE!!!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: A huge victory for Slade Kincaid here, Foley tried his best but the Ghost puts down another former world champion here tonight, the man may well be unstoppable.
Bait the Trap
Anton Savor's kitchen is alive with the sounds of beef and chicken sizzling away in cast iron skillets, water boiling and bubbling in massive stock pots all backed by the menagerie of delicious smells that comes with it. In the center of it all is the chef himself who moves through the chaos of ingredients with unparalleled grace. The sound of a timer ticking away all the while.
Tick.
Suddenly the shuffling of boots joins the chorus of sound as a plethora of masked men file into Anton's domain! The Chef turns to face them, hands clasped behind his back. "Welcome, you're just in time."
Tick.
The men look at one another in confusion, Anton waving a hand towards the burners. "I'm no fool. Sunshine and Arcadia are gone... Titans snapped up left and right. I assume you're here on behalf of the zookeeper? More of those smiling fools of his?"
Tick.
His question hangs in the air, his assailants merely walking towards him with ill-intent.
Tick.
"I see. Well I hope you'll join me for this meal then. A marvelous three course event that I have named 'The Fly Trap'. I believe the noodles are almost done."
Ding.
RIPPING HOT CAST IRON SKILL TO THE SKULL OF AN ASSAILANT!
Savor lashes out like a cornered animal, sending the sauce from a wok into one man's face before grabbing another and sending him sprawling through a mountain of flour! The powder kicks up into a massive cloud allowing Savor to grab one of the masked men, whipping him towards the burner!
AND SENDING HIM INTO THE POT OF BOILING WATER! HE JUST SCALDED HIM!
Anton goes to make his escape only to get shoulder checked brutally just outside of his kitchen! A massive boot to the skull puts him in the dirt with impunity, Anton's meal unable to quite feed everyone.
As quickly as he went down is he cuffed, the men dragging him off just like the rest.
Cut.
WHERE IS HE?
The Olympus backstage corridor is chaos in motion. Techs scatter. Security stares.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Now that’s a sight you don’t want to see.
MATT RUBY: Clear the backstage!
Ares storms through, eyes wild, fists clenched, breathing like a war engine.
“WHERE IS HE?!”
He barrels through a locker room door, splintering it on the hinges. Nothing.
No sign of Jackson Cade.
“I’ve torn through every gutter from Sector Nine to the Peaks!” he shouts to no one. “Someone start talking, or I start breaking bones!”
He rips open another curtain, growling low. “I will burn everything to find him.”
Then he spots him.
El Mariachi Muerte, walking calmly down the hall.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Get the hell out of there!
Ares lunges.
He grabs Muerte by the collar and slams him against the concrete wall, rattling the pipes.
“Where is he?!”
Muerte looks confused.
“Where is who?” He says coolly.
Ares tightens his grip.
“You think this is a game, Mariachi? You think I won’t snap your spine just to make a point?”
But before the threat can finish…
They descend.
Dozens of them, faces masked. Silent. Coordinated. Everywhere.
MATT RUBY: Not these guys, again.
“Behind you,” Muerte mutters, just before they’re swarmed.
The hallway becomes a warzone.
Ares punches one across the jaw, another tackles his legs. Muerte whips around with spinning strikes, dropping two, maybe three. But they just keep coming. Endless hands, endless bodies.
They blanket the corridor in a wave of darkness.
Ares shouts as he's forced to a knee. “You think you can take me?! I’ll rip your goddamn heads off one by one!”
But the noise fades beneath their sheer numbers.
Within seconds, both men are down.
Dragged into the shadows by the very same men Ares has been searching for.
MATT RUBY: They’ve even taken Ares, BB.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Will somebody tell us what the hell is going on?
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Arcadia's Warden of Weird must go toe to toe with the Harbinger himself. Do you think Klaus has what it takes to put Ezekiel Graves down?
MATT RUBY: Keep talking and you'll put me down, you geezer.
The bell rings and Ezekiel Graves is immediately on the offensive! The Purifier rushes down Klaus who immediately slides between Ezekiel's legs! Graves turns around as Way pops up and rolls under a furious big boot before landing a kick to the back of the leg! Graves falls to a knee and Klaus spins through with a jaw cracking roundhouse kick! He hits the ropes!
AND HE ROLLS BACK WITH A ROLLING THUNDER SENTON TO THE CHEST OF GRAVES!
Klaus rolls through right to his feet with shocking athleticism before leaping onto the middle rope and waving to the crowd! He blows a mocking kiss to the fans and hops off of the ropes right into a brain rattling right hand by Graves! The Apostle is Wrathful as he lays into Klaus for his pride!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: HOLY WRATH! BY GOD HE'S CLOBBERIN' WAY WITH EVERY STRIKE IN THE BOOK!
MATT RUBY: SMEARED SOME MAKEUP ON HIS ARM WITH THAT LARIAT!
That final strike turns Klaus inside out and leaves him back first on the mat! Graves is far from finished as he grabs Klaus by his leg and uses it to throw him like a ragdoll into the center of the ring! He tries to rise to his feet only for Graves to fly forwards with a big boot that takes Klaus right out of his shoes! Ezekiel reaches down, forcing Way back to his feet and hauling him up!
MATT RUBY: He's got him up for the Purgatory Plunge! Powerbomb!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: NO! KLAUS DROPS DOWN! ROLL UP! ROLL UP! GANNOSUKE CLUTCH!
Both men roll into the center of the ring as Klaus cinches the pin in tight! Cole Holt goes to count!
ONE!
...
...
TWO!
...
...
THREE- GRAVES KICKS OUT WITH AUTHORITY!
Klaus scrambles away from Ezekiel, rolling out of the ring to make distance but Graves is in hot pursuit! The Harbinger slides out of the ring, chasing Klaus around the ring as Way just barely avoids his grasp! The Oddball leaps onto the steel steps, jumping off towards Graves and catching him with a hurricanrana that flings him headfirst into the barricade!
Way looks to Holt in the ring, motioning for him to turn around! Klaus grabs a chair from beneath the ring!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: He's paid the official! How can Holt sell his integrity like that!?
MATT RUBY: Seems pretty easy, BB. I wonder how many chair shots a hundred buys?
CRACK!
The sickening sound of metal on skin echoes through the arena as Klaus rears back again!
CRACK!
He chuckles, waltzing around Graves with the chair maniacally before rearing back one last time!
CRACK- NO! GRAVES CAUGHT THE CHAIR! HE SLAMS IT ACROSS KLAUS' SKILL!
Way is sent stumbling back and a pissed off Ezekiel Graves is on him like Jesus on the Cross with rights and lefts that knock him back towards the apron! A big kick to the gut doubles him over and Graves powers him up!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: PURGATORY PLUNGE! BY GOD HE JUST POWER BOMBED KLAUS ONTO THE APRON!
MATT RUBY: Men shouldn't bend that way, BB! It's not natural!
Graves forces Klaus up by his hair, rolling him into the ring and sliding in after. He stands tall, begging for Klaus to get back to his feet so he can inflict even more harm on the Ringmaster! Klaus slowly begins to rise, forcing a big hand around Klaus' throat! He headbutts the Ringmaster across the nose before lifting him into the air!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: THE FINAL JUDGEMENT! CHOKESLAM SENDS KLAUS WAY ALL THE WAY TO HELL!
MATT RUBY: Holt immediately dropped to count! He knows what's good for himself!
Graves covers!
ONE!
...
...
TWO!
...
...
THREE!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Klaus played this match by his rules and, but not even that could hinder Ezekiel Graves as he claims victory here tonight!
Roll Up! Roll Up!
The bell has barely finished ringing. Both Klaus Way and Ezekiel Graves drag themselves back to their feet in the center of the ring—bruised, breathless, and weary after their war.
The crowd’s applause turns to confusion as the atmosphere shifts.
A rumble begins in the audience. Then—like a floodgate bursting open—masked men rush the ring from every direction, vaulting over barricades and crawling under ropes. Dozens of them, faceless and clad in black attire.
Graves and Way instinctively go back-to-back, shoulders heaving, eyes scanning the growing wall of bodies that circle them.
“What the hell is this?” Graves snaps, raising his fists.
Klaus doesn’t answer. His smile grows wider.
The masked men close in. One of them steps forward, extending a hand. In his grip—gleaming under the lights—is a syringe filled with a sickly green liquid.
Klaus takes it without hesitation.
Graves turns to him. “Klaus… what the hell are you—”
The needle plunges into his neck before he can finish.
Graves jolts violently, his body locking up. He claws at the syringe, but Klaus only watches with a twisted fascination as his opponent collapses to his knees, then slumps to the mat, eyes rolling back.
The crowd erupts in horrified boos.
Another masked man approaches, handing Klaus a microphone. The Ringmaster straightens his neck, brushes imaginary dust from his shoulders, and raises the mic to his lips.
“Roll up, roll up!” he announces, his voice booming with theatrical glee. “To a once-in-a-lifetime event!”
The crowd’s noise dies down, captivated despite themselves.
“All your heroes… all your villains… under one high-top roof, for one night only!” His voice crescendos into madness. “Join us at The Way & Co Circus in two weeks’ time—for an event that will blow your mind… if you dare.”
He tosses the microphone down beside Graves’ limp body, grinning ear to ear as his masked performers swarm him, lifting him onto their shoulders in triumph.
Flash forward – Two weeks later.
A haunting carnival tune plays faintly in the background. The high-top tent of The Way & Co Circus looms large in the gloom, its stripes faded and ominous under flickering lights.
Inside—cages.
Dozens of them.
Each one holding a soul condemned to the show.
In one: Jackson Cade and Ares, staring at each other like wild animals.
In another: Harold Attano, wrists bloodied from gripping the bars.
Another still: Nox and Destructo, glaring daggers at each other.
The air is thick with fear and the stench of rust and sawdust.
Klaus Way strolls between them, hands clasped behind his back, humming a carnival tune. He stops before each cage, admiring his collection like a proud curator.
“Welcome, my beautiful freaks,” he whispers. “The show must go on.”
He tips his top hat, whistles a merry tune, and walks off into the dim glow of the tent’s center ring.
Cut.