Static covers the screen as a Play ► symbol appears in the bottom right-hand corner.

Last week, Edward Newton received the one thing he’d wanted for years; an apology.

His brother finally said sorry for not only abandoning his family but for lying to him about his father.

Nygma now stands outside in the dark, looking towards the picturesque home of Luke Storm before him.

It looks as if he’s debating whether or not he should walk up to the front door and ring the bell.

He looks conflicted.

Suddenly, a massive explosion rocks the entire house.

Flames shoot out of the windows, sending glass flying in every direction.

Only Nygma isn’t shocked.

He doesn’t even flinch.

He looks down beside himself, at a gas can, and smiles.

Next to that?

Luke Storm, bound, gagged and on his knees.

The OSW Champion is bellowing at the top of his lungs, watching as everything he owns goes up in a plume of smoke.

How can this be?

Last week, he apologized.

He did the right thing.

Now, Nygma turns to face him, joining him on his knees.

“Whilst Scarlett has some one on one time with Grandma, I thought it exciting to pay you a visit, brother,” Nygma says candidly. “And boy, am I glad I did.”

He pulls the gag from Storm’s mouth.

“What the fuck are you doing, Edward?” Storm screams. “I fucking apologized. I tried, man. I really tried.”

“Yeah, about that,” Newton responds with a shrug. “How exactly does one go about apologizing for not telling someone about a funeral? How exactly does one apologize for something like that? I didn’t just miss daddy’s death, I missed laying him to rest. You couldn’t help but take from me, could you?”

Storm lowers his head, part shame, part rage.

“And now brother, I’m going to take from you.”

As the fire rages behind them, Nygma pulls Luke’s head towards his, clasping it with both hands.

“Did you think mommy could save you?” He asks. “Is that it, Lukey?”

“It was never about saving me,” he admits, surprising Nygma.

The Laughing King lets go, looking perturbed.

“She was trying to save you.”





Alice cautiously rounds the corner of the Slaughterhouse, looking around the dimly lit corridors in a paranoid manner. Since her run-in with Pyre, Alice had nervously meandered through her days, always leery of an attack from the shadows. It troubled her as to why Pyre had chose to single her out.

“I simply must find why the Fire Queen wishes ill of me. I am certain it is a matter we can fix,” Alice states, mumbling to herself.

Alice continues speaking to herself, causing those in the hallways to stare awkwardly. She slowly walks into the locker room and the smell of smoke suddenly enters her nostrils. In the corner, seated and facing Alice is Pyre. The Queen of Flames is smiling as she watches the flames dance within her fingers. In her other hand, Pyre holds a book…Alice’s storybook!

“I hear it is relaxing reading by candlelight,” Pyre sarcastically states, watching the fright in Alice’s eyes.

“Please Fire Queen, don’t burn my storybook, it is one of my most treasured possessions.”

Pyre simply laughs at the plea of Alice, playfully flipping through the pages of the storybook. With each flip of the page, Pyre can feel the panic in Alice rising.

“I’ll be honest, my dear, I never found much joy in reading. People became so attached to their books and I’ve never been one for attachment. Sometimes it’s good to get rid of attachments, don’t you agree,” Pyre questions, inching the flames closer to the pages.

Pyre smiles and extinguishes the flames in her fingers. She closes the book and slowly walks towards the exit of the room. Before exiting, she stops and smiles in Alice’s direction.

“You have no idea how important you are to us. You’ll learn soon enough. Until that time comes, I think I’ll hold onto this, perhaps even do a little light reading.”

Pyre laughs and exits the room. Alice can only stare forward with maddening thoughts running through her fragile mind.




We’re gearing up for a match that could put the fatal in Fatal Four-Way as Banzan, Jay Jeckel, Monty Straight, and The Judge square off!

Jeckel immediately charges at Straight, slamming him hard into the corner before stomping away at the Straight Shooter! Meanwhile, Judge is laying in some heavy offense on Banzan but the Mountain is holding his own, defending with a bear stance as Jeckel goes to the outside to grab a table!

Jeckel slides back in, but Straight catches him with a drop toe hold that sends Jay face first into the table with a THUD! Banzan on the other hand is able to get one up on Judge as he sends him to the corner, but Judge dodges a corner splash!

Judge sends the Mountain to the outside and immediately turns his attention to Straight, who turns him around and nails a chop block bringing Judge to a knee! Jeckel slides back out of the ring, this time grabbing a chair. He throws it at Straight, kicking it into his face!

Straight is down and out as Jeckel quickly sets the table up, looking to ramp up the violence…but Banzan has come back in! MAGGA TO JECKEL, SENDING HIM THROUGH THE TABLE IN THE PROCESS! Banzan turns back to Judge…WHO GETS HIM WITH THE VERDICT, AND THE COVER! ONE! TWO! THREE!

A wild and crazy fatal-four way ends with The Judge standing tall!





The Butcher’s office.

Sigil is frantically rifling through the Butcher’s files, trying to find any clue that might just lead him to Voynich.

His partner and fellow Collectors Edition member is being held hostage and brutalized by the Chairman of Old School Wrestling.

The Collector is desperate.

“Looking for something?” A voice says from behind. Sigil turns around to a CCTV camera in the corner. The light is beeping and the voice is coming from there.

It’s The Butcher, talking from his secure location.

“Where are you?” Sigil yells. “I’ll tear this place a part to find you, Colin!”

The Butcher laughs.

“You really want to find me?” He remarks. “I honestly didn’t think you’d give a damn about him. After all, you only care about yourself, don’t you? You used him to find my daughter and surely he’s of no use to you any more.”

Sigil doesn’t respond.

“Oh, but then again, I suppose there’s always Wrestle Heroes, isn’t there? I imagine you’d need him for that.”

The Butcher laughs, having clearly gotten under Sigil’s skin – he can tell by how tense The Collector’s body language is.

“If you want me so badly, or your friend here, I’m not going to pull any punches; my location is in a file in the cabinet behind you. I should warn you though, I’m going to kill you.”

Sigil storms over to the cabinet and begins rifling through it.





The Boneyard, a terrifying structure of wood, steel, and pain. There is no escape from it or your opponent. Can Redwing overcome Pyre? Or will the Flame Witch turn the hero to cinders?

The bell rings and Redwing is the first to strike! The Red Knight lashes out with a flying kick that rocks Pyre! The Fire Witch slams into the steel wall and gets caught with a barrage of strikes! Left, right, AND A LEAPING DDT THAT PLANTS PYRE INTO THE FUCKING DIRT!

Pyre is busted open by the wooden floor and Redwing pushes his advantage as he whips her off of the ropes and rushes after her- DROP TOE HOLD BY PYRE! Redwing hits the chain wall face first! The Crimson Scourge tries to rise but Pyre plants a boot to his skull!

A few more boots catch Redwing and shove him face first into that solid steel grate! She peels him up AND HITS A FRANKENSTIENER! Redwing hits the wooden boards and Pyre gets a wicked smile on her face! FIRE SHOOTS FROM HER FINGERTIPS AND THE WOOD IS ON FIRE!

The floor is set ablaze and Redwing is in dire straights as Pyre stalks him from the flames! SHE LEAPS AT HIM- REDWING GRABS HER! HE SHOOTS A GRAPPLING GUN TO THE TOP OF THE CELL! Both competitors are dangling above the flames! REDWING DROPS! KILLING JOKE! BULLDOG! They hit the ground with a thud and Redwing makes a shaky cover! ONE! TWO! THREE!

The Caped Crusader picks up an enormous win over the Double Feature Champion!





Berkshire Ellison Green has always known he was destined to rule the world.

And right now, half-high, drunk, staring out at the cityscape from his lavish top-floor penthouse? While 4 beautiful women, half naked, snooze on imported leather couches all around him?

He is more sure of it than ever.

Once he gets rid of Alton Whitlock, that nagging little twat, there will be nothing left to do but reclaim his rightful position in OSW.

He’s in an expensive silk robe and boxers shorts, standing at the window, looking at the city outside.

He hasn’t been sleeping much at all. Too much adrenaline.

He turns away from the window. One of the girls stirs on the couch. BEG turns on the television. Late night talking heads, still rambling on about Whitlock’s massive defeat.

BEG smirks as he sits down.

One of the girls shifts around to rest her head on BEG’s lap. He grabs a half-empty bottle of champagne, chugs it. Then reaches out, puts his hand on the girl’s ass…
And that’s when he hears a quiet knock upon his door.

“Oh, who the fuck?” asks BEG. A few of the girls peek their heads up.

Slowly, Berkshire makes his way through the night’s debris and arrives at the door.

When he gets there he looks through the peephole, but sees nothing except darkness.


There is no response.


BEG stops abruptly and turns around.

One by one, every device in his apartment is shutting down. The lights blink out. The women begin to panic.

His anger rising, Berkshire Ellison Green decides he has seen enough.

He flings open the door. And what he sees outside of it stops him in his tracks:

A figure clad in a long black cloak…

Wearing an Anonymous mask.





An old classic returns here tonight as the Templar with a vast legacy goes to the learning tree against the twisted child with no history. Will Sanctus utilise his father’s teachings well or will the broken madness of Seesaw be too much for even him?

The bell sounds as we see Sanctus reading the bible in silence on a wooden pew, pondering it’s words so intently he doesn’t notice Seesaw sneaking up behind as he tries for a wild swing that Bellator ducks under. Another wild right is dodged, Bellator keeping the bible at eye level with ease before he’s picked up high in a reverse bearhug.

Seesaw lifts Sanctus up high, trying to crush the air from his ribs as Sanctus calmly reaches back, bellclapping Seesaw hard over the ears. Seesaw drops Bellator, staggering back in pain as Sanctus places the bible down, standing up as Seesaw rushes forward

HIPTOSS ONTO THE WOODEN PEW! Seesaw slides down to the tiled floor in pain, Sanctus pulling him up to his feet with a sharp knee to the jaw before lifting Seesaw up high, YAWEH’S….METAL CROSS TO THE FACE! Seesaw somehow got his hands on a cross, cracking it over the skull of Sanctus before spiking him into the floor with a DDT!

Seesaw looks to walk out but he’s stopped by a hand on his foot, Sanctus slowly getting to his feet before throwing liquid into Seesaw’s eyes. HOLY WATER! Seesaw staggers back in pain as Sanctus rushes forward, wrapping around Seesaw’s arm, LA MAS….SEESAW CATCHES HIM, RUSHING FORWARD….SUPERFINE TURBINE BLAST THROUGH THE DOORS! Both men crash down outside of the classroom, Sanctus hitting the floor back first winning the contest.

Sanctus wins this Sunday School contest, taking advantage of Seesaw’s rage as his intelligence gets him the win here tonight





Backstage, we find Banzan and Monty Straight still recovering from that vicious death match earlier tonight as they hear footsteps approaching. They look up to see the source of said footsteps…Major Thom, a smirk on his face.

“You two look like you’ve been through hell.”

Thom chuckles, his humor met with a cold reception from the Straight Shooter and the Mountain, each speaking upon seeing the major.

“To what do we owe this visit?”

“Have you come to offer some words of wisdom to fellow soldiers?”

Thom chuckles again as Jac Bastard approaches, preparing himself for the bare knuckle fight that awaits him. He looks at the trio before him before speaking.

“You are, after all, the military leader in this crew, aren’t you?”

Bastard scowls at the major, his next question much more stern.

“Or would you abandon us like you did your War Machine?”

This wipes the smirk clean off Thom’s face, but doesn’t get a word out before Luke Storm walks in, his face hard to read as he chimes in.

“Alright, that’ll be enough. We’ve all got our problems, but I’m gonna need each of you to understand that we need to focus. We got lumped in together for a reason, and with Lance rallying his troops I’m not taking a chance with any infighting here…especially from you.”

Luke glares at Thom with his next words.

“There’s a reason you got recruited to this cause, but given recent events I’ve got my eye on you.”

The champ looks to the rest of this motley crew, his tone not softening much.

“We’re at war, and everything’s on the line here…we need to batten down the hatches and stick together if we’re gonna get through this.”

Reluctant as they may be, the four men nod in agreement.





The Sandman feeds on fear but will he find sustenance inside the tortured mind of Sweet Alice, or will The Dreamer turn the tables on the Dream Demon tonight and ensure a peaceful slumber?


Immediately Sweet Alice assumes a Bartitsu fighting stance, side-one, wide leg stance with one arm extended and the fist balled, the other close to her chest. The Dream Demon forms what would probably be called a grin on a human face and closes in, trying to grab his smaller opponent. However The Dreamer moves swiftly, locking Sandman’s arm, giving him a low kick below the leg and then seamlessly a punch to the head. The Dreamer finishes this off with some acrobatics and a Pele kick that sends Sandman stumbling into a turnbuckle.

Alice begins to hop across the ring like a rabbit then runs at Sandman looking for a leg lariat but the Dream Demon catches The Dreamer and POWERBOMBS HER ONTO THE TOP TURNBUCKLE!!! Sandman steps out of the ring and puts the first table into action inside the ring. He grabs The Dreamer, looking for a REVERSE CHOKESLAM THROUGH THE TABLE!!! NO!! ALICE COUNTERS WITH A HEADSCISSORS!!!

Sandman gets to his feet, he’s hit with two low kicks below the knee, he doubles over…SPIKED!!! SWEET ALICE HITS THE DDT!!! She’s hopping around like a rabbit again…HOP…SKIP…JUMP…TERRIBLY LATE!!! NO!!! SANDMAN ROLLS AWAY!!!

The Dreamer runs to the ropes and slingshots, landing on the shoulders of the Dream Demon. It’s a battle between them but Alice swivels on Sandman’s shoulders….DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE!!!! SWEET ALICE PUTS SANDMAN THROUGH THE TABLE!!!

Sweet Alice can sleep soundly tonight knowing The Dream Demon’s nightmares will not invade her repose.





The match is over. What a contest between Alice and Sandman. As Alice leaves the ringside area, Mr. Sandman appears ready to take his leave when…


Sandman drops to a knee, pissed off as Jessie seems to be taunting him.

“Come on, Sandman.” Jessie yells. “I thought you wanted me? You’ve been chasing me for months, and here I am.”

Hitting the ropes, Jessie comes back for the Dream Demon.




Mr. Sandman leers over Jessie, keeping his chokehold locked in. For a moment, fear creeps into Jessie’s eyes.

Or maybe it’s a lack of oxygen.

“Fool.” Sandman finally says. “All that you have done only serves my plan. You’ve doomed the Sartyr boy to his death. I will have what I desire. One way or another.”

He releases the Prince, who rolls to his feet. He regards Sandman with cocky caution.

“I think you’re the fool here.” Jessie retorts, struggling to catch his breath. “You just don’t know it yet.”

Mr. Sandman laughs, as much as one like him can, before holding up his hand and what he holds in it.

The map!!

Sandman has the map showing where Jimmy Sartyr is!

Jessie’s face drops as he sees this. He roars and goes in for another boomstick.


When the lights come back up, Jessie Williams is all alone in the ring.

Mr. Sandman has the map showing where Jimmy Sartyr is in his quest to find Sandman’s dungeon.

How the hell is Jessie going to find Jimmy (and the dungeon [and his dad]) now?




Behind The Slaughterhouse, Banzan is meditating in a field.

He does not notice fifty men in army fatigues surrounding him.

One of them sneaks up from behind and stabs him in the back!

Banzan doesn’t react! He takes it like an acupuncture needle!

The man is enraged and stabs more! There is no reaction from the mountain! With every stab, a purple glow emanates more from his body!

“Help me out!”

The man screams and the fifty men all jump at Banzan!

Every man kicks and stomps but there are no marks on the mountain! For every spot a bruise should be, his purple aura only becomes more vivid!

“All at once!”

The men back up and all simultaneously throw a blade at Banzan!

He finally rolls out of the way! The blades collide where he sat! Banzan didn’t need any more punishment! He appears to be practically purple himself!

Banzan spreads his arms wide and lets the energy escape his body! A purple forcefield spreads from him and knocks out all fifty men!

From a couple hundred feet away, we see Bishop watching with a pair of binoculars!

“He just took out fifty soldiers with one blast. He certainly passes on strength and the fact that he let them live when they certainly tried to kill him might prove his belief that he isn’t a monster true. He passed this trial with flying colors but I never doubted him physically, let’s see how he handles next week.”





We have a hard hitting brawl instore tonight as two smash mouth competitors go head in an old school fight. Will Jac Bastard prove his worth or will the demi god fall to a Shotgun Blast?

The bell sounds as both men rush forward, beating the living hell out of one another with heavy lefts and rights, neither man letting up before the taller Bastard unleashes a stiff headbutt, staggering the Reaper back before a stiff lariat turns him inside out. The Reaper stumbles up into another flurry of blows before Jac backs up. MUMBLES…

Reaper ducks under, SWIFT REVENGE! The Single Arm DDT spikes Jac into the mat but he’s not out cold just yet. Jac gets pulled up to his feet as the Reaper tries for a second DDT, Bastard slipping out, HARD UPPERCUT! The Reaper’s jaw gets jacked but he doesn’t even flinch before delivering an uppercut of his own to Bastard

A smile crosses both men’s face as they begin punching the daylights out of one another once more. A right, then a left, then a hook, then an overhand. Both men grip the other around the head before teeing off with fist after fist PRIDE style before an almighty headbutt staggers the both of them back. The Reaper readies his fist as Jac’s knee starts trembling before both men rush forward. SHOTGUN BLAST… SPARKED OUT! Both strikes hit flush but only one man falls as the Reaper collapses to the canvas out cold!

Jac Bastard picks up a huge victory tonight, going blow for blow with the Reaper himself but one man had to fall and tonight, the Bastard stood tall





“What are you doing, Andy? We should go back to daddy, we shouldn’t be here!”

The staticky sound of a radio introduces us to an… uncanny scene.

A road filled with houses on either side, all of them old and decrepit, wood falling inwards, windows shattered all blanketed in a thick layer of grime.

The camera pans to the side and reveals a singular sign.

Tranquility Lane.

“No, no Jack. This is exactly where we’re supposed to be. Look at the sign! THE SIGN! I… I think I remember this? Maybe? It looks so familiar.”

“It’s abandoned, Andy. There’s no one here!”

SeeSaw looks down at his toy, grimacing at it as he brings Jack closer.

“Be quiet, Jack… you’re not being very supportive anymore and it’s making me SAD!”

He yells at the doll, shaking it ever so slightly before stopping and hugging Jack to his chest, his fingers running over the toy’s head.

“I’m sorry, I know you mean well, but I need you to let me do this!”

He sniffles, clutching Jack close as he walks down the street. As he does so, he looks left and right, eyes glazed over as he mumbles to himself.

“I think I remember this place… children on the sidewalks, all the games we’d play… but where is home?”

As he finishes talking he slowly looks at the house at the end of the street. One that back in the day it was clear was as vibrant and colorful as any other. SeeSaw looks at it, a small smile forming on his face as he walks towards the door, pushing it open.

His eyes go wide, mouth agape at what he sees inside.







In the Newton family home, Luke and his mother sit opposite each other in the dining room, across a table.

They’re both dressed in their funeral attire and looking extremely sombre.

“Do you know what upsets me more than anything, son?” She asks. Luke shakes his head, listening intently. “It’s that on a day like today, your brother isn’t here with his family, as he should be.”

Luke sighs, taking a deep breath.

“I know, mom.”

There’s a pause.

“I know you showed me what he’s become. I know that isn’t our Edward; not the boy I raised or the man I thought he’d become. It just doesn’t feel right. There has to be something we can do.”

Storm shakes his head.

“Please, baby, help me save him.”

The OSW Champion doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t really know what to think.

His eyes burrow into those of his mothers and in that moment, he realizes the right thing to do.

“When he finds out what I’ve done, he’s going to come for me,” Luke admits. “He’s going to want to kill me, mom.”

That shocks her.

“But maybe, just maybe there’s enough of my brother left in him to save.”

“I know what we have to do,” she says, reaching a hand out and clasping his. “I know what you have to do, son.”

Luke gulps.

“It’s the only chance we have of bringing him back.”

They both nod.





Not even 20 feet of flesh tearing steel will be able to contain the force these two contenders will unleash. It’s The Prince versus The Olympian. The goal: escape the cage.

These warriors don’t even wait for the bell before fists are swinging in the middle of the ring. The Olympian slams his hard head into Jessie’s face and he’s got the advantage…IRISH WHIP INTO THE SIDE OF THE CAGE!!! Jessie bounces off, blood already oozing out of his broken flesh on his face. Tank lifts Jessie into a gorilla press and throws him towards the face of the cage…JESSIE SPINS AND LANDS ON THE CAGE AS AGILE AS A CAT!!!

Jessie tries to climb but Tank grabs him and yanks him right off the wall of the cage onto the canvas…TANKED!!! THE RUNNING GO-NO!!! JESSIE FROGLEAPS. Tank turns…UPPERCUT!!! JESSIE SLINGSHOTS!!! GROOVY ECLIPSE!!! TANK IS DOWN!

Jessie begins to climb the cage again. The Olympian is getting back to his feet, The Prince knows he’s not going to get to the top and over….CALL OF THE CHOSEN!!! NO!!! TANK CATCHES JESSIE MID-AIR!!! HAY BARRELL!!! THE RING SHAKES WITH THE IMPACT!!!

It’s Tank’s turn to climb and seek to escape. He gets one leg over the top but Jessie has hold of the other and he starts to climb up, joining Tank on the top. Both fighters are standing on the top of the cage, trading shots. Jessie gets the advantage…BOOMSTICK!!! NO!!! TANK DUCKS!!! The Olympian wraps up The Prince in a full nelson…KERSH SLAM!!! FROM THE TOP OF THE CAGE!!! Tank climbs down on the outside to safety and victory.

In this battle of two relentless scrappers, The Olympian slays The Prince but there are plenty of bruises on both sides.





The Observatory.

A flash of blue pierces the air and the presence of The Judge, accompanied by Reaper appear before our eyes. The Judge moves straight to his throne, while The Reaper stands somewhat bewildered for a moment as his eyes adjust.

“A little warning next time would be good.”

The Judge doesn’t react, but places his axe in its holder. There is something about The Judge that seems… off. The Judge rests its elbows on its knees and exhales deeply.

“You humans are exhausting. Always thinking that you are the center of the universe. The balance of this world will not wait for me to give you ‘warnings’ when I summon you to my presence.”

Reaper faces the Judge with a glare.

“Just point out this list of yours and let’s see which names we can cross off it.”

The Judge lifts his arms off his knees and lifts the axe for a moment. Before them, a screen of the Observatory begins to display some type of code. Soon, a series of numbers appears across the top of the screen. Reaper, of course, has no idea what he’s looking at. The Judge lowers the axe once more and settles back down.

“There you go.”

Reaper turns to him once more, grabbing him by the throat.

“Listen, bucket-head… I’m running out of patience with you.”

Judge drops Reaper to the floor with a palm strike to the chest that sends Reaper sailing backwards across the Observatory.

“Your case number. The list before you stands the list of names I currently have under investigation, now that your name has been removed from judgement.”

Reaper looks at the list again, scratching his head.

“But… The list is empty. I don’t see any names.”

Judge stands from his throne, meeting eye to eye with Reaper.

“I never said I had names. I said there was a plethora of options.

The cracking sound of Reaper’s fist balling.

“You don’t understand, Reaper. I’ve been following your case for longer than any other case I have followed in my existence. And it has led me nowhere. No names. No suspects. No answers and no leads.”

Reaper eyeballs Judge.

“So what exactly are you saying?”

“It is time to turn over a new page. The logical decision must be made. It is time to move on.”

Reaper’s face reddens and his mouth drops. This clearly, is not the news he wanted to hear.

“Move on? You think I’m going to move on?!”

Judge doesn’t reply. He reaches out his palm once more and strikes Reaper in the chest with it. A flash of blue light and Reaper disappears before our eyes. The Judge simply sits back down on his throne and sighs.





STOP THE COUNT! Which of these men will be left standing tall in the ring!?

Brooks immediately charges into Whitlock and carries him across the ring, slamming him into the corner! He dumps him over the ropes, but Alton lands on the apron. Clothesline—ducked by The Candidate—EYE OF THE SAVIORRR! Tyler rings Whitlock’s bell with the spinning back elbow – sending him to the floor! ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX… SEVEN…

ALTON CRAWLS BACK IN! Phew. The Savior picks him up—YOUR FORETOLD DEST—NO! Alton blocks the 360° roundhouse kick. Brooks strikes back with an ENZUIGIRI – WHITLOCK EVADES! Still holding the legs of his downed opponent, Alton nods to the fans, who pop… CATAPULT INTO THE TURNBUCKLE, THEN HE THROWS TYLER OVERBOARD! ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT…

THE SAVIOR SAVES HIMSELF – dammit! Whitlock hauls him up, lifting him onto his shoulders. Here it comes… JOKER DRIVER, AKA SNAP ELECTION! Wait – BROOKS DRIVES HIS KNEES INTO THE BACK OF ALTON’S HEAD! The crowd wince at that one. Tyler heads up top… GUIDING LIGHT PHOENIX SPLASH! He rolls Whitlock’s carcass outside. ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT… NINE…


The Candidate clings to his seat!





A knock on a backstage door.

A rough voice says, “Come in.”

The door creaks open.

Tank Kersh.

Brent Kersh sits on a locker room bench, stares at his son.

Neither man is much for words at first. Then Brent says, “Well?”

Tank says, “When I came here, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to get you to leave. I just didn’t think it was going to be this hard.”

Brent laughs, shakes his head. “How old are you son?”

Tank shrugs, “Old enough to know better than to start another argument with the old man.”

Tank sighs and walks over to Brent, sits beside him on the bench.

Brent looks over at Tank. He wraps his arm around his son.

Tank, somewhat inexplicably, just starts crying. He buries his face into his father’s shoulder.

Brent starts crying too.

Tank looks up at Brent through the tears. He says, “Are you really not going to fight me back?”

Brent shakes his head. “What kind of man would I be?”

Tank shakes his head. His sadness turns to anger quite quickly. “But you’re going to make me be the kind of man who would beat the hell out of his own father? In front of millions of people.”

“Millions of people may judge you,” Brent says. “But I won’t.”

“Why won’t you just leave?” Tank says through grit teeth.

“Same reason you won’t,” Brent replies. “Guess neither one of us are old enough to know better.”

More tears fall down Tank’s face.

Brent hugs his son tightly.





Which of these competitors is in too deep!?

Sporting diving attire, Luke enters the tank. Opposite him, Shark bares his teeth – he’s home, baby! Water starts filling the tank. Shark gores Storm into the glass wall, pummeling away at his mid-section! The fighter clubs him across the back, however, then pulls him round into a DDT! He holds Shark’s head down as the water rises around them…

HE’S CHOKING AND SPLUTTERING! It looks like he’s still waiting on that gill surgery. Shark elbows the actor, who rolls off him. The Maneater wades over to him. He pulls him into an arm drag – sploosh! Shark grabs his downed foe’s wrist and opposite ankle. He kneels down, trapping his head! CHIKARA SPECIAL – BLOOD IN THE WATER!

LUKE TAKES A DEEP BREATH AS THE WATER PASSES HIS AIRWAYS! His muscles cry out for oxygenated blood; their deprivation worsens the effects of the submission. HE GRABS A ROCK FROM THE FLOOR OF THE TANK… HE BLUDGEONS SHARK’S KNEECAP! SHARK BREAKS THE HOLD! He stumbles forwards, then turns round—LIGHTNING STRIKE SUPERKICK!

NO! SHARK GRABS THE FOOT! He kicks Storm in the gut… HAMMERLOCK DDT – BLOODMONEY! NO – LUKE BLOCKS IT! CODEBREAKER, AKA THE DOWNPOUR – BUT THE SHARK SWIMS AWAY! Both competitors are buoyant by now! Shark circles his prey once more—DOWNPOUR OUTTA NOWHERE! Shark is dazed, and Luke holds his head under… HE PASSES OUT!

Luke Storm stays up above in his head, instead of going under!




As Luke Storm walks up the aisle to the backstage area, he raises his eyebrow as Redwing walks out on the stage. They share a look, their history playing across their faces, before Luke nods towards the ring and Redwing nods back.

The Red Knight makes his way into the squared circle, where the Blood Red Shark is knelt waiting for him in the corner.

“Have you thought about what I said?” Redwing begins. “That it wasn’t your fault?”

BRS stands to his feet, walking to meet Redwing in the center of the ring.

“I have.” Shark answers slowly. “I have given it much thought.”

Redwing smiles, but Axel isn’t finished.

“When you look at me, Bill, all I see is your pity.” Shark continues, his voice deepening. “All I see is a man who wants to save me, who thinks that I’ve been brainwashed, who thinks that I’m some common whore on the street who he can save and prop up as another unhappy common man.”

The Shark pushes Redwing back.

“I’m not common, you son of a bitch!” He roars. “And I’m not brainwashed! The red mist has only made me see clearly. It’s shaken off the years of trying to be something I’m not.”

Redwing tries to comment, but Shark is still going.

“When I look deep inside myself, it doesn’t matter if my brother’s death was my fault or not. It doesn’t matter if what happened to all my friends, my brothers, was my fault or not. All I see is blood.”

BRS gets up in Redwing’s face.

“Because that’s what I am, Bill.” He cries out. “You get to take your mask off and go home if you want to. When you put down your sword, you can still have a life.”

Shark looks down, emotion in his voice.

“I can’t. All that’s left of me is my sword, and it gets sharpened every day. Stop trying to save me, Bill. When you tried to kill me, I felt calm like I’ve never felt before. So at Red Snow, one of us has to go. Everything in me is telling me to kill you. So either I rip your throat out, or you stop stop trying to save me, and finish the fucking job!”

The uncharacteristic cursing from Shark seems to take Redwing aback. The Blood Red Shark leaves the ring, while Redwing watches with sadness in his eyes.

“I’m going to prove you wrong, I promise.” He says.




The Realm Walker meets Fortune 500’s biggest scumbag. Will BEG become another to Sigil’s collection, or will he be the one BEGGING for mercy? One thing is for sure… Tonight’s Main Event will have GRAVE CONSEQUENCES.

The Slaughterhouse has been set with somewhat of a different ambience tonight, as a mound of dirt lies awaiting both men stop the entrance ramp, a single tombstone marks one open grave. By the end of the night, the grave will mark the resting place of one of these men.

The fact seems not to faze BEG too much, as by the time the bell sounds and ‘Cash Machine’ fades out, he seems ready to get his hands dirty. Sigil wastes no time in squaring off with him and the pair begin exchanging blows to get the early advantage.



Sigil follows up by charging at BEG and looking to take him out with a CLOTHESLINE, but BEG HAS HIM SCOUTED!


Green smirks as he calmly follows Sigil out of the ring, waiting until his foe had reached his feet before locking him in a headlock. He wrenches Sigil’s neck at an unnatural angle, softening his mid-section up with a series of KNEE STRIKES!


Green pulls Sigil to his feet and instantly locks him up into a Wrist Lock. Sigil lets out a howl of pain, but soon twists BEG around and HEADBUTTS BEG WITH HIS MASK!





BEG screams in agony for an eternity, but eventually, the wily submissionist flips the hold over and slips out. However, the damage seems to have been done as he limps heavily away up the ramp away from his foe to recuperate.

Only… Sigil disappears… COSMIC LEAP!

And reappears atop the mount of dirt that awaits BEG on his slow, painful journey. BEG has no idea, so wrapped up in his own pain and doesn’t see Sigil leap off the mound toward him.




The crowd rise in appreciation of the move and seeing BEG on his back in the mud. Sigil nods, grabbing BEG by the scruff of his neck and dragging him along toward the open grave. Unceremoniously, he tosses BEG inside and grabs the waiting shovel.



BEG climbs out of the hole, but Sigil is waiting. He swings the shovel at Green, but Berkshire ducks it.



A dirt-covered, pissed off Berkshire Ellison Green grabs the head of Sigil, wrenching at the mask, not to remove it but to position the head for maximum punishment. He locks in the cross-face…




With the hold broken, and both men now in the open grave-site, things quickly erupt into nothing more than an all out brawl. Mud-covered fists hit as hard as concrete blocks, each rocking the other man.

But there is nowhere to go and nowhere to fall. So blow after blow from both men hit home until BEG and Sigil are nothing more than dirty messes, slinging mud at each other.



This gives the dastardly BEG the chance he needs to grab one item that will give him the advantage he needs… The SHOVEL.







Only when the gargling sound of Sigil struggling for breath dies down does BEG release the pressure.

He climbs out of the grave and instantly begins shoveling dirt onto the body of his foe. Before long, he has Sigil covered. The body disappears under the ground and the grave is nearly full.







BEG swings the shovel once more… BUT SIGIL IS GONE!





But BEG is not out… He Has his arms wrapped around Sigil… PYRAMID SCHEME!



Sigil slithers out of the hold before BEG can apply full pressure, and scrambles backwards away from the grave to recuperate. BEG smirks as he reaches his feet, but the smirk soon turns to wide-eyed horror as he sees Sigil hurtling towards him.

Unable to react in time, he get hit with the full impact…





Sigil grabs the shovel, exhausted and begins to shovel dirt into the grave.

It covers BEG.

No arm appears this time.

The grave is nearly filled.

Still nothing.

A few more shovel loads… The grave is filled in.




Sigil raises the shovel above his head, before slamming it into the dirt of BEG’s resting place. From his satchel, he retrieves a hammer and chisel and proceeds to chisel out the letters B… E… G… into the tombstone.




“More tea, Mommy?”

The sounds of cups and plates clanking against one another can be heard throughout the decrepit old home in which we left SeeSaw. We can’t see exactly what’s happening but a small, deranged chuckle echoes off of the walls.

“Be careful not to spill it! You don’t want to get any on your dress, do you?”

The camera snakes through the halls of the house, coming upon a scene that could only be described as gruesome.

SeeSaw, a large grin on his face, sits at an old wooden table with a dirty tea set in front of him. He mimes pouring tea into a cup and places it in front of Jack, the doll having been placed upon a pile of books stacked on top of one of the chairs.

“I didn’t forget about you, Jack! I just needed to serve mommy first. Ladies first, it’s only good manners!”

He giggles, again, turning to face the other end of the table, the camera slowly panning to join him.

“Are you enjoying the tea? I made it special for you!”

And as we pan, we see exactly what SeeSaw does.

skeleton, dressed in a tattered old dress, sitting across from him, a tea cup placed delicately in its hand.

“Oh? You enjoyed it? I’m so glad to hear! I knew that you’d be here, mommy. I knew I’d find you! Even if Jack here didn’t think it was a good idea.”

The radio static once again pipes up from Jack’s head, the doll sounding almost desperate as it speaks.

“Andy! This isn’t right! That can’t be your mother, she’s a pile of bones, Andy! You need to go home to Daddy right away!’

SeeSaw looks at Jack out of the corner of his eye, Mr. Make Believe glaring coldly as he grabs Jack.

“You don’t understand it, Jack. She’s fine! She’s okay! But… if you really do think we should leave…”

SeeSaw stands up, placing Jack in the front of his outfit before giggling once more.

“Mommy says she wants to see Daddy too. Oh it will be so wonderful! Like a love story!”

Jack tries to speak up again but the doll’s speaker is muffled as SeeSaw grabs the skeleton in his arms, hoisting her up with care.

“Let’s go, Mommy. I have so much to talk to you about.”

SeeSaw slowly takes his leave, walking out of the home and down the decaying street and into the night with his ‘mother’ in tow.




There’s nothing fancy about the way this pilot edition of Afterburn kicks off. There’s no music, no pyrotechnics, just a long hallway in the backstage area of Madison Square Garden’s and the roaring crowd in the background, making themselves well heard.

Just then, a man flies across the screen, crashing into a wall with a giant bone crunching thud.


“Please, just hold on a minute?” Errol Flynt is our Chairman and right now, he’s whimpering in a bad way on the floor, his hand raised to try and protect himself against whomever we’ve not yet seen in frame.

Instead of waiting though, the unknown masked assailant steps into the scene and stomps directly on his head, knocking him unconscious. He doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t even look into the camera, he simply turns around and walks away, heading down the corridor.

The camera shot then changes to the ring where two men are standing, each with a microphone and surrounded by the jam packed MSG crowd. The first man, brown and gray hair, introduces the show.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Old School Wrestling!” he says enthusiastically to a cheer from the crowd. “My name is Rick Walker and alongside me is Richard Roman and we’re your commentary team. Errol Flynt was on his way out here to introduce himself, the company and all of us to you but I’m afraid that unusual circumstances have prevented that from happening.”

Richard interrupts, “Like him getting his ass kicked, you mean?”

The crowd don’t like that and neither does Rick, who in turn just shakes his head and moves on.

“So instead, myself and Richard will take over that responsibility for you here tonight. As we’re sure you’re aware, there’s a massive sixteen man tournament for the World Heavyweight Championship that is due to begin-“

Audioslave’s “Cochise” suddenly interrupts and a ring of fire opens to display Mike Lane. He is clad in all white, and has his head down. As the funky beat kicks in followed by the lyrics, Lane looks up and grins as Destiny walks out from behind the curtain to join him. He walks with a confident stride down to the ring, ignoring the calls of the fans in the audience. A brisk jog up the steps is followed by Lane stepping between the ropes and walking to the middle of the ring to bask in the power he has brought to it.

“Excuse me,” Rick loudly announces, stopping the music and addressing Mike Lane. “Can’t you see that we’re trying to introduce the show?”

Mike laughs at him, shaking his head and then snatching the microphone.

“You were trying to introduce the show but now you can waddle your asses over there,” he points aggressively to the announce table. “And do your damn jobs. This ring is for professionals like myself, not amateurs like you.” Mike says pointing to Rick and Rick alone.

With that says, Rick Walker has enough experience that he doesn’t need telling twice and quickly exits to the outside with Richard smirking, but following in tow. Meanwhile, the fans let Mike Lane have it both barrels.

“Oh please, shut your whining, alright? My future father in law is lying down unconscious backstage because some animal thought he was target practice. I don’t honestly give a damn what any of you people think. Now you’re all here for wrestling, right? So bring out my first victim and let’s get this damn tournament started.”

Mike throws the microphone down and gives Destiny a kiss, looking towards the entrance ramp in anticipation of his match.

Mike Lane’s request to get on with his match is quickly obliged by Fate who makes his way to the ring with a purpose. Mike meanwhile leaned over the rope to bad mouth him and caught a right hand to the face that kicked this thing off. The bell rung and Fate was straight on the offensive, whipping Lane into the corner and following up with a massive Leaping Knee. He pulls him straight out and into a Snap Suplex, rolling straight over into the cover. One…. Kick Out! Lane quickly rolls to the outside and tries to regain some composure but Fate isn’t willing to let him rest and follows.

Mr. Inevitable storms after him, spinning him around and attempting a right hand that’s blocked and subsequently returned. Mike grabs him by the arm and drags him chest and face first straight into the ring post, taking him down to the floor. The Phoenix pulls him to his feet and rolls him back into the ring, going to work with boots before dropping down into the cover himself. One…. Two.. KICK OUT! Another kick out and this time, both men are getting back to their feet.

Lane is still a little fresher and catches Fate with a kick to the gut, planting him with a Single Arm DDT. This time he neglects he cover, getting back to his feet and signalling for the end. Fate slowly stirs back to his and LEAPING SUPERKICK! THE SHADOW KICK! NO!! Fate ducks under it perfectly, ADVERSITY! DOUBLE KNEE FACE BUSTER! Fate scrambles into the cover.. One…. Two….. THREE!! Fate shuts Mike Lane’s mouth and advances to the next round of the tournament. What a way to kick off the debut edition of Afterburn with such a brilliant match.

Hayden Hardkore is preparing for one hell of a match up with Desmond Cross here tonight but when he arrives in frame, the fans go wild for him. A smile creeps across his face as he listens in, only for the door to open and DTR of all people to walk in. Hayden, who knows Dave all too well, hops straight to his feet with a readiness to fight.

“Hold on, I’m not here to fight you man,” Dave explains with his hands out, trying to calm the situation down before it possibly escalates. “I’m not the same guy I was in the IWF, I’m not here to cause trouble.”

Hayden doesn’t believe him.

“You realize that I saw the things you did, right? You burned down houses, brutalized people, burned people. You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you’ve changed? I believed you had been burned. I believed you had a scarred face but you know what? It was all lies, wasn’t it?”

Rick Walker: “I watched IWF as a fan frequently and I have to say, I don’t really believe him either.”

Richard Roman: “You don’t? What does a man have to do to change?”

“I have a lot to make up for, I get that. I’ve done some despicable things in my life but that was a life time ago,” he pleads, trying to show himself to be a new man. “I’m going to prove it to you and to everyone else here. People can change,” DTR says with a handshake offered. “I know you know that.”

“I don’t think so,” Hayden says refusing to shake his hand. “I think The Virus is still swimming around inside there and this nice guy act will soon wear off. I’m not buying it and you can bet your bottom dollar that no-one from the IWF in this federation will either.”

Rick Walker: “It may sound harsh but he isn’t wrong. I was just a fan and I’m telling you now, if DTR pulled this back then, you wouldn’t go near him with twenty foot barge poll.”

Richard Roman: “You talk about being a fan but I competed there and Dave was a stand up athlete. He was the kind of guy you could trust with your kids.”

Rick Walker: “He was the kind of guy that’d set your kids on fire, make no bones about it.”

The Rattlesnake takes back his offer of a handshake, looking dejected. He heads towards the door and stops, turning to Hayden, wanting to try one last time.

“Eventually you’re going to realize that I’m not the man I used to be.”

Hardkore sighs.

“I hope so David, I do,” he says honestly, making The Rattlesnake smile. “Because if you are the man you used to be the Old School Wrestling is in for a torturous time of it.”

This match started in a one sided manner, Lennox taking control quickly with kicks and punches, backing The Reverend up into the corner and going to work with hard shots to the stomach and face. The Incredible One wasted no time in sending him across the ring to the opposite side, connecting with a massive Corner Clothesline on the return. He pulls him from the corner and into a Belly to Belly Suplex, dropping him hard on the canvas.

Refusing to cover and clearly looking to make a statement of intent, Lennox pulls him back to his feet and scoops him up, dropping him with a Backbreaker. The fans don’t like the pure arrogance of this guy who gets back up and smirks at the carnage he’s causing. The Incredible One finally signals for the end, pulling The Reverend to his feet, ducking a feeble Clothesline attempt and slammimg him down hard with a German Suplex! THEN ANOTHER… A SWIVEL OF THE HIPS AND A THIRD! THE 410 SPECIAL!

There’s just no chance of a comeback now and Lennox knows it. He gets back to his feet and goes straight to the legs of the Reverend, turning him over with a SHARPSHOOTER! THE INCREDIBLE LOCK!!He’s bang in the middle of the ring and Damon has no choice but to tap out. An incredibly one sided match here tonight that shows the world how impressive this young Matt Lennox is.

In what has already begun as an extremely frustrating night for Mike Lane, he’s backstage and storms into the office of Errol Flynt – who after being attacked earlier this evening is nursing his head with an ice pack.

“Before you say a damn word kid, I know you’re pissed off,” Errol stops him in his tracks. “And what, you want revenge against Fate for beating you? We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

Mike frowns at him.

“Like who?” Mike sneers back.

Errol stands up and walks over to his drinks cabinet, pouring himself and Mike a whisky then handing him the glass.

“The American Capitalists, that’s who. It was John Pathlow who attacked me earlier tonight kid and from what I understand, he was paid to do it.”

Rick Walker: “Hold on a second, John Pathlow did that?”

Richard Roman: “That wasn’t the smartest move of his part.”

“What do you mean; paid?” Mike responds, taking a sip of his whisky. “Are you saying he didn’t attack you because he wanted to?”

“The American Capitalists are all about capital, Mike. Someone paid them to beat me up and I want you to find out who. That means that we’re going to war with the American Capitalists because you know they won’t give up that information easily,” Errol says with a command over his business and ideas. “That also means that you’re going to need a partner.”

Rick Walker: “I don’t know if anyone on this roster is going to want to take part in that war.”

Richard Roman: “Hold on a second, you just have to think about this one. Whoever helps Mike Lane take on those two idiots and find out who’s responsible will be in the bosses favour; I don’t care where you work, that’s the best place to be.”

Mike nods in agreement.

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I can find someone on this roster who given the right reward, will be extremely helpful,” Mike boasts with a smirk, only to down the rest of his drink and place the glass on the cabinet. “Just leave it with me.”

And with that, The Phoenix heads out of the office, leaving Errol to finish his drink with a wry smile on his face.

Waldo The Clown wastes no time in getting the shenanigans underway in this one by offering a handshake only to whip it away and honk his nose. This doesn’t impress Acid who quickly attacks with swift kicks, backing Waldo into the ropes and whipping him across the ring, connecting with a Crossbody Block on the return. That sends The Clown sprawling to the outside to recover, except he finds Acid leaping over the top rope with a giant Splash that catches him off guard.

The Green Dragon pulls him back to his feet but is suddenly stunned backwards, a buzzer on the palm of Waldo’s glove responsible for shocking him. Waldo fights back with buzzing right hands – literally, that turns into a DDT on the concrete floor. The Clown throws Acid back into the ring and attempts a cover.. One… Two.. Kick Out! He pops back to his feet and drags The Dragon over to the corner, running back to the opposite run and taking a long run up before leaping into the air – WHOOPIE CUSHION BUSTER!! NO!! ACID WITH A LEG UP CATCHES HIM DIRECTLY IN THE MID-SECTION!

With the Bronco Buster missed, Acid is quickly up onto the top rope.. ACID RAIN BOMB!! HIGH LEAPING SWANTON!! NO!! THE CLOWN MOVES!! Unbelievably, Waldo rolls out of the way and Acid plants himself firmly on the canvas. Both men slowly get back to their feet and GREEN MIST! WALDO SPITS IN HIS FACE!The mask helped catch some of it but Acid doesn’t know what to do, he stumbles forwards and The Clown catches hm.. SHIRANUI!! NO!! STEAM RELEASE!! STEAM JUST CAME OUT OF ACID’S MASK AND NOW WALDO IS BLINDED! ACID WITH A ROLL UP… ONE…. TWO… THREE!! Out of no-where and in the most crazy of circumstances, Acid has put himself into the final eight with a strange display indeed. Both men ended up blinded by it was The Green Dragon who managed to pick up the all important win.

After that amazing match, we catch Acid walking through the curtain backstage to be greeted by John Pathlow. John doesn’t look too impressed and with a stern expression on his face, clearly has some bad news his victorious partner here tonight.

“Remember the job we took tonight?” he says looking at the blank expressionless eyes of his partner.“Well it has come back to bite us, just like I said it would. I don’t care about Errol Flynt and his future son in law, effectively putting a price on our heads but what I do care about,” he says pointing to the ring, “Is the World Heavyweight Championship and our 50/50 split.”

Rick Walker: “How are these two souly about money? They don’t care about representing the OSW, they just want the money that title brings.”

Richard Roman: “Some people are in this business for titles, some for kicking people’s asses and some for making money, Ricky. These boys just want a quick buck and it’s going to get them hurt.”

Acid nods and suggests with his movement that John following him down the corridor and he does, entering a locker room where inside, a suited man sits tied to a chair.

“What’s this?” The Alpha Dog seems confused. “He paid us, right?”

Acid again nods.

Richard Roman: “Is this guy mute or something?”

“Alright then,” John cracks his knuckles. “I suppose it’s time we found out who paid you to pay us.”

And with that, Pathlow shuts the door on the camera, locking us out. Whilst the commentators remark about what they’ve just seen, all we can hear is the sound of a man yelping in pain whilst physically beaten and tied to a chair.

Rick Walker: “This is just gruesome! Utterly gruesome.”

Richard Roman: “But you something Rick? It proves that even the American Capitalists don’t yet know who paid them to take out Errol tonight.”

Rick Walker: “Of course, you’re right, it could of been anyone on the roster.”

When the bell sounded in this one, both men locked up in the middle of the ring and exchanged technical locks until Marcus dropped The Rattlesnake with a big Hip Toss. He quickly got back to his feet and walked into a Clothesline, accompanied by a quick cover.. One…. Kick Out. DTR wasn’t going to be pinned after that. The Black Knight wasted no time in getting him back to his feet but it was Dave with right hands to the mid-section that stopped him in his tracks. Dave pushed him back into the ropes, sent him across the ring and launched himself with the Double Knee Strike.

The Rattlesnake quickly helped him up only to connect with a DDT and go for the cover. One… Two… Kick Out! The Black Knight refuses to be bounced out of here that easily. Both men are slowing now and back up, DTR whipping Marcus into the ropes but it’s reversed, Marcus spinning him back around and connecting with a Belly to Belly Suplex. He covers, hooking the inside leg.. One… Two… KICK OUT! Another kick out and by now, The Black Knight finds himself getting a little frustrated.

Marcus is back to his feet first and attempts to pick Dave up, only for a quick inside roll up out of no-where… One…. Two.. THREE!! KICK OUT! He barely kicks out and both men roll away from the pin fall, getting back to their feet and THE RATTLER! WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM? The Stunner that see’s DTR drop to his knee’s absolutely takes The Black Knight’s head off. He covers.. One…. Two…. Three!! There you have it! Dave The Rattlesnake is heading to the next round and that came literally out of no-where.

“The fresh prince of wrestling is filmed if front of a live audience.”

Music from the 90’s can be heard blaring out of a locker room that we soon arrive and enter, the camera faced with partying youth, women and cups of beer. Right in the middle of the party is none other than Matthew Cories, looking extremely pleased with himself.

“Welcome to the show more exciting than an episode of the Power Rangers,” he beams, only to be interrupted somewhat by a girl who walks past. “Sup b?”

The girl scoffs at him and after a long stare, he finally he turns his attention back to us again.

“I already told that I’m all that and a bag of chips and I’m not lying. In a few minutes time I’m going to put on a wrestling clinic. It’s going to have everything. It’s going to have emotion, just like when Will and Carlton were arrested for being black. It’s going to have action like an episode of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and the unpredictability of Dawson’s Creek.”

“Excuse me?” Suddenly comes a voice that interrupts him. Standing there with a smug look on his face is Professor Bordeaux. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for your schooling out there, instead of partying like some kind of animal? This isn’t prom, Matthew.”

The music suddenly screeches to a halt and everyone turns to look at the obvious intruder.

“Who do you think you are; Mr. Belding or something? I know Mr. Belding and sir, you are no Mr. Belding.

“Rick Walker: “That’s right, he is no Mr. Belding.”

Richard Roman: “No Mr. Belding, you say?”

Rick Walker: “No Mr. Belding.”

All comedy aside, Matthew doesn’t seem too impressed and neither does Professor Bordeaux.

“Listen child, out there tonight, class will be in session. For you in just a moments, there will be no sitting at the back of the class firing spitballs from your little pea shooter. This match is a tournament for the OSW World Heavyweight Championship and there will be none of these shennagins.”

Everyone laughs at the word shennagins, which irritates the Professor to the point of storming out. The music quickly continues and Matthew, with a grin on his face, heads towards the door.

“Feenay! Fee-hee-hee-hee-nay! I said fa-ha-ha-Feenay! FEEE-NY!”

Rick Walker: “Well folks, if that wasn’t something then guess what; Professor Bordeaux vs. Matthew Cories is up next.”

Richard Roman: “Time for that kid to get taught a valuable lesson if you ask me.”

These two had already been introduced after their earlier confrontation but that only made them disike each other more. The match started quickly with Cories agility seeing him duck a Clothesline, launch himself from the middle rope and connect with a Crossbody of his own.. One… Kick Out! The quick pin throws Bordeaux of his game and The Fresh Prince has him back up, into a Side Headlock and quickly a Hip Toss. The Professor slides to the outside to regroup, and as Matthew approaches the ropes, whips his legs out from underneath him.

With that The Professor is back in action and slides back into the ring, stomping away at Cories as much as he can before helping him back to his feet and sending him into the ropes, connecting with a big Clothesline. He drops into the cover.. One… Two… Kick Out. Cories gets a shoulder up but is dragged back to his feet, only to fight back with a shot to the mid-section, another, another, and a MASSIVE DDT! The Fresh Prince covers one more time… One… Two… Kick Out! Another kick out and this one is quickly coming to an erratic close.

The Fresh Prince decides it’s time to go up top and heads to the top rope, positioning himself andSHOOTING STAR PRESS! NO! THE PROFESSOR MOVED! He slams into the canvas and now it’s anyone’s game. Slowly both men get back to their feet and it’s Bordeaux with a kick to the mid-section, pulling the kid in with a Double Underhook Facebuster position – BUT NO, CORIES DROPS DOWN AND SCOOTS THROUGH HIS LEGS, SPINNING BORDEAUX… THE CHUMBAWAMBA!! NOO!! BORDEAUX FROM BEHIND THIS TIME WITH A ROLL UP AND A HANDFULL OF TIGHTS… ONE… TWO.. THREE! HE STOLE IT! THAT BASTARD STOLE IT! Professor Bordeaux is heading to the next round and by God, what a shame as well. He utterly stole this one.

Fate is standing by backstage with Charlie Thompson, looking rather pleased with himself after an impressive debut victory earlier tonight.

“Fate, earlier tonight you defeated Mike Lane to advance into-“

“Hold on a second Thompson, can you hear that?” both of them stop speaking and listen in as the fans begin chanting his name. “That’s the people, baby. Tonight they got their first taste of Fate and can’t you tell they’re salivating for more? It was destined that tonight I would advance in the tournament, just like I believe it is destiny that I’ll be standing on the mountain apex as your OSW World Heavyweight Champion.”

Rick Walker: “These fans are really behind Fate here tonight.”

Richard Roman: “Why? I don ‘t get it. He barely scraped past Mike Lane.”

Rick Walker: “That’s not exactly true.”

“Destiny?” suddenly scoffs a voice from out of frame. That voice belongs to the mammoth Desmond Cross, who walks towards Fate with a shake of his head. “Destiny has nothing to do with it, nor does fate. I don’t believe in destiny or fate, I believe in God. I believe in the Messiah and it is he who deserves credit for your success.”

Fate looks at him sideways, closing in.

“No-body takes credit for what Fate does in that ring, do you understand me? You shouldn’t be concerned with God or what I’ve done here tonight. You should be concerned with Hayden Hardkore.”

Desmond smiles, agreeing.

“You’re right, I should be. But you see Fate, I have the holy Lord on my side. I have God in my corner, helping me to fight and win my battles. Hayden is Hayden, I’ve fought him before but you? You irk me. I will defeat him tonight and God willing, I will meet you in the tournament.”

Rick Walker: “Fate vs. Cross? Can you imagine that match?”

Richard Roman: “Those are some strong views on the line in a wrestling match, lemme tell ya.”

Both men stare each other down and it isn’t until Cross is about to walk away that Fate smiles.

“As fate would have it.” he responds.

Cross chuckles and continues to walk away, leaving Fate with a big smile on his face.

World Heavyweight Championship Tournament

The beautiful flow of Ecstasy of Gold hits and out from behind the curtain walks two men, holding it from each side as Lord Merriweather steps through with his arms in the air, seeking the fans immediate approval, which never comes. He turns his nose up in disgust at their boo’s and makes a purposeful walk to the ring, waiting for his two “men” to clean each ring step and then spread the ropes for his entry.

Rick Walker: “Well folks, we’re about set for our next match of the evening but it appears that Lord Richard has one or two things he wants to get off his chest before hand.”

Richard Roman: “I can’t believe a man of his stature is being forced to compete against Cosplay here tonight.”

With a microphone now in hand, the wrinkled befuddled Merriweather speaks.

“Tonight, in front of all you idiotic, moronic imbeciles,” he says to a roar of boos from the crowd. “I’m supposed to perform.”

Rick Walker: “That’s why he’s on the roster.”

Richard Roman: “I disagree. He’s simply adding class to the roster, that’s all.”

“I’m supposed to face some oversized man-that-looks-like-two in the middle of this ring for an opportunity to hold a Championship that would be better suited around my waist in the first place,” he scoffs looking angrily around the audience. “So I’m out here to tell you exactly what I tried to tell Errol Flynt earlier tonight; I will not be competing.”

Rick Walker: “He can’t do that, can he?”

Cosplay steps out into the arena dressed as Batman as the theme tune to Batman plays. As he comes down to the ring he runs along the crowd trying to high five people, but everyone ignores him. He walks up the ring steps and stumbles his way over to Lord Merriweather.

Richard Roman: “Look at this moron and tell me he can’t.”

Batman – as he apparently wants to be known has a microphone in hand and one or two words for Lord Richard Merriweather.

“Alfred!” he screams in a deep voice. “Why aren’t you in your outfit and in the Batcave? We have no time for these shenanigans.”

Merriweather looks towards Edwards and Stephen who shrug in confusion.

“The world needs saving and you’re taking time out of my busy schedule to stand here and complain? Go and get dressed, darnit. Batman needs a sandwich before he goes and saves the world.”

“Excuse me?” Merriweather asks somewhat perturbed. “Who exactly do you think I am, young man?”

Batman scoffs loudly. “You’re ALFRED, MY BUTLER!”

Rick Walker: “That’s has not gone down well.”

Richard Roman: “Fly away Batman, fly away.”

Now looking like the angriest man alive, Merriweather nods at his henchmen who quickly attack poor Batman. They knock him to the canvas with right hands and stomp the holy hell out of him, all the while, the words BOOM, POW, THWACK appear on the Tron.

Richard Roman: “Hahaha! That’s brilliant.”

Stephen and Edward hold Batman down as Lord Richard hits the ropes, comes back and leaps into the air…


Richard Roman: “What agility for a man of what, eighty?”

Rick Walker: “How can you condone this? Instead of wrestling this match, Merriweather has had his henchman attack poor Cosplay and lay him out.”

Merriweather bends down, shaking his head at Batman.

“Maybe one day you’ll understand, Cosplay. Maybe one day all of you will too,” he points to the crowd around him as well. “But only first class will do.”

He drops the microphone and demands that his henchmen open the ring for him so he can exit.

Richard Roman: “Maybe Cosplay can look on the bright side, huh? At least he’s into the final eight with a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship. Our Lord has just declined his opportunity to take part.”

Rick Walker: “Yeah and good riddance.”

The scene fades to the backstage area with referee’s attending to a poor unconscious Cosplay.

Poor Cosplay is being helped to the backstage by four officials who despite their number are still struggling to assist him. They finally drop him in a chair near the curtain and leave him there, where he’s quickly approached by Fred Sanders.

“Cosplay, can I get a quick word with you about what just happened out there?” Fred asks without much compassion, only to receive silence for his trouble. “Cosplay? Hello?”

Cosplay doesn’t even look at him.

“Batman?” That gets his attention. “You realize that you’re not actually Batman, right?” Fred growls at him. “Batman wouldn’t get his ass kicked by a feeble old man.”

Rick Walker: “That’s not exactly true.”

Richard Roman: “That’s how I saw it.”

Cosplay looks up at him, his mask still on and roughly grabs the interviewer by his shirt, using all his weight to slam him against the wall.

“Batman didn’t get his ass kicked,” the gruff impersonated voice of Cosplay responds angrily.“Sometimes the Batman has to fake getting his ass kicked so that he can trap the joker.”

With that said, out of the corner of his eye, Cosplay notices Waldo The Clown walking nearby.

“JOKER!!” he yells angrily in the direction of Waldo. “You may think you’ve gotten the upper hand on Batman but you’ve only succeeded in making me want to lock you up in Arkham Asylum even more!”

Rick Walker: “That’s not the Joker.”

Richard Roman: “You could’ve fooled me.”

Waldo walks over, a giant smile on his face.

“OOOHHHHH HEHEHE HAHA, YOU’RE A SILLY LITTLE BOY AIN’TCHA?” the clown reacts loudly, startling Batman – I mean Cosplay. “You want me to tell you a joke?” he says pulling out a flower. “What did the flower say to the silly boy?”

Cosplay reluctantly leans in to look at the flower, Waldo spraying water in his face and then running off. Cosplay shakes his head angrily, looking back at Fred and slamming his hand into his fist.

“The Joker must be stopped!”

Rick Walker: “I honestly have no words to describe what we just witnessed.”

Richard Roman: “That’s why I should be lead commentator. I’ll summarize this whole thing for you and the audience, shall I? Batman over there, well he put on a fuck-ton of weight and Joker – he’s the one that just sprayed water in Batman’s face, has given up his job as a criminal mastermind to blow up balloons for children wearing floppy shoes and a big Ronald McDonald wig..”

Rick Walker: “Why thank you Richard.”

Richard Roman: “Not a problem.”

The insane Marvellous Master Chef is quickly taken down to the canvas with a Clothesline as the bell rings. The massive monster of a man in John Pathlow wastes no time and as he gets back up catches him with a Belly to Belly Suplex. MMC is reeling now and rolls to the outside, looking for his skillet. The Alpha Dog follows him, catching a rake to the eyes for his trouble, followed up by Chef hamming him head first into the ring post. He quickly rolls him back into the ring and goes for the cover… One… Two..MASSIVE KICK OUT! Pathlow quite literally launches Master Chef off him to kick out.

That surprises The Marvellous One who rushes off towards the ropes as Pathlow gets back to his knees, nailing him with a brutal Basement Dropkick. He covers again.. One… KICK OUT! By now he’s losing his patience and heads up top…. SHOOTING STAR PRESS!! HE GOT IT!! An instant cover this time… One… Two.. KICK OUT! Furious with his inability to put Pathlow away in this one, he rolls to the outside again, grabbing his skillet and heading back into the ring. The referee backs him into the corner and refuses to let him use it which inadvertently gives Pathlow a chance to get back to his feet.

By the time MMC pushes the referee to one side and storms at The Alpha Dog with his skillet, Pathlow is well aware and ducks under the intended shot, dropping him with a Swinging Neckbreaker that sends the weapon flying. Both men are soon back to their feet and John nails him with a Running Knee Strike and signals for the end. He waits for Master Chef to get back up and when he does, he stumbles forward..BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA! LEAPING SIDEKICK!! NO!! Marvellous Master Chef ducks under and rolls him up, grabbing the middle rope… ONE…. TWO… THREE! He cheated! That bastard just cheated by holding the ropes! Either way, MMC is heading to the final eight at the expense of John Pathlow and you know there’s going to be some hell to pay for that.

The sound of “Chariots of Fire” by Vangelis is heard throughout the arena, prompting the crowd to rise to their feet with a roar of excitement as the lights slowly begin to dim. Suddenly red, white, and blue pyrotechnic effects begin to explode from the base of the entrance ramp that last several seconds before “The Enforcer” Brent Kersh appears on the upper portion of the structure. The OSW superstar steps out onto the steel stage with his hands on his hips and looking around the arena in appreciation of the response from the crowd. Kersh is wearing a loose fitting black tee shirt embroidered with the letters ‘OSW’ and soaked in sweat. In addition,

Rick Walker: “Well here comes Brent Kersh, some of whom have called a massive coup for OSW.”

Richard Roman: “He’s a huge star in the world of wrestling and not one many expected to make a debut with us. Personally though, I can’t say I rate the guy.”

Rick Walker: “Brent is a multi-time Champion, which is multiple more times than you. Perhaps you should show the guy some respect, just like this sold out MSG crowd here tonight.”

“The Enforcer” is wearing his traditional wrestling attire of black tights, boots, kneepads, kneebraces, and white tape wrapped tightly around his wrists. As the colorful collage of sparks begin to die down, Kersh begins his approach to the ring. Maintaining a calm and collected mannerism, Brent moves back and forth from one side of the walkway to the other, slapping hands with the fans lining the security railing. Once the professional wrestler gets to within several feet of the ring apron, he sprints the remaining distance — sliding under the bottom rope and coming to his feet in the middle of the ring. The OSW superstar lifts both hands into the air as he maneuvers his way around the ring and soon receives a microphone.

“It’s been a long time no see, huh?” Brent asks the crowd who cheer at his return to professional wrestling. “The last time I stood in a ring ready to compete, it was two years prior and I must admit, I’ve missed this. There’s been a lot of questions asked of me recently, like where I went, will I stay and what am I looking for but know this, if only this; I’m ready to fight.”

The fans pop, chanting his name.

“Now tonight, there appears to be a World Championship tournament that I’ve not been invited to participate in,” Brent remarks to a boo from the crowd, only to put up his hand and signal that it’s okay.“No, it’s okay, really. I don’t mind working my way up from the very bottom but that means starting with my opponent tonight; 9… 1…. 1!”

“911! 911! 911!”

The booming, emblematic sound bite of “NINE-ONE-ONE” (similar to that of the nWo’s “NEW-NEW-NEW WORLD ORDER”) precedes the start of Pearl Jam’s Even Flow. Three pyrotechnics erupt separately at the head of the entrance to the arena, before the masked form of 911 is propelled into the air from beneath the staging area to a chorus of cheers.

Richard Roman: “Ask and you shall receive.”

Rick Walker: “This is going to be one hell of a match but I wonder what 911 has to say for himself.”

He jogs along the aisle, clapping hands with any fans holding their arms out in anticipation. Leaping onto the apron, he holds the top rope and uses the bottom rope as a springboard to leap and forward somersault into the ring. He then heads over to the corner and grabs a microphone of his own, laughing.

“You know Kersh, I didn’t exactly know what to expect when I came out here. It would seem that you’re not the only one starting from the bottom and that our match tonight, it’s a show stopper for the pair of us,” he says as Brent nods in agreement. “Which means only one thing; we both want and have to win. By the end of this match, only one of us will be leaving here in an ambulance and I can tell you something, it won’t be me.”

Brent chuckles to himself as well.

“I’ve done this dance before, son. I’ve been in the ring opposite cocky young guys like you for many years and do you know what’s always happened? Whether it’s a one-two-three or a tap-tap-tap, you always end up eating your words,” Brent lets him know with a smile. The fans meanwhile are quickly beginning to split between them, with chants directed at both men. “So how about we stop with the yapping and get to the fighting?”

The Enforcer chucks his microphone to the canvas and give 911 a wink, who hasn’t quite finished.

“Sounds good to me. But let me leave you with something to dwell on whilst I’m kicking your ass; when I’m done with you, who you gonna call?”

With that, 911 also drops his microphone and it looks like this one is on.

Before this ambulance match can even start it’s like a war of words between the crowd. Split directly down the middle between those who love Brent Kersh and those who love 911, The White Ranger rallies them up by yelling “Who ya gonna call” loudly into the audience, receiving “911” back in support. Kersh meanwhile stands focused, listening with a big ol’ smile as his half of the crowd chant back “You’re going home in an ambulance.”

The match starts with a goodwill handshake before Kersh offers a lock up that 911 foolishly takes, ending up with him on his knees and back to his feet in a Headlock. The White Ranger manages to send the big man into the ropes, only to find himself on the receiving end of a Shoulder Block on the way back. Kersh though seizes the opportunity and quickly dumps his opponent over the top rope and to the outside. He soon follows him out with clubbing forearm blows to the back of the head and neck as 911 stumbles away, eventually turning to duck under and connect with a surprise Dropkick.

That buys him some time and he utilizes that fast, hopping onto the barricade with cat like agility and as The Enforcer gets back to his feet, he catches him with a Hurricanrana that sends Kersh tumbling to the concrete floor. 911 is back to his feet first, albeit slowly and reaches under the ring, grabbing himself a steel chair. By the time he turns around though, The Enforcer is waiting and BIG BOOT TO THE CHAIR, TO THE SKULL! THAT HAD TO HURT! Kersh grabs the chair and throws it down, pulling 911 to his feet and dragging him over to the entrance ramp.

The fans are urging their man on as 911 fights out, bouncing Kersh’ head off the guardrail and stumbling him. He goes at him with kicks, lefts, rights, then a massive SPINNING HEEL that could of damn near knocked Brent’s teeth out. The Goodwill Samaritan grabs Kersh by the head and hops onto the ring apron, spinning off with A THUNDEROUS TORNADO DDT!! “Holy Shit” chants reign out as both men lay feeling it on the concrete floor. 911 is first back to his feet and grabs Kersh, trying his best to drag him up towards the ambulance – barely succeeding given his giant frame.

With that, 911 has made it to the ambulance and rushes him back first into the double doors. The Enforcer hits the floor and that gives 911 the opportunity to open the doors, though by the time he has, Brent is back up and pulls him forward into a Short Arm Clothesline. This match is reaching its conclusion and both men know it. Kersh grabs The White Ranger and pulls him to his feet, attempting to throw him head first into the ambulance – except 911 spins out and reverses, attempting to throw Kersh inside BUT NO! He reverses and with all that momentum, launches 911 straight into the ambulance. He quickly slams the doors shut and this one is over, The Enforcer has picked up the win in a fantastic match.

The match might be over and the ambulance driving off but that doesn’t stop the doors from suddenly flying open in mid-drive, 911 launching himself out and into a roll across the concrete floor.

Richard Roman: “WHAT THE HELL?!”

Rick Walker: “Did we REALLY just see that?”

Brent can’t believe his eyes as 911 pulls himself back to his feet and stumbles over to him, stopping by to stare him down for a moment before attempting to walk away.

Richard Roman: “This might get a little rough.”

But instead of letting him go, The Enforcer stops him.

“Damn kid, you’ve got some balls,” Brent says off microphone, clearly eluding to the fact that despite being beaten here tonight, 911 refused to leave the building in an ambulance. He offers a handshake and 911, who takes his cue from the roaring crowd, takes him up on it. “Good match, man.”

Both men raise their arms in unison and soak in the crowd reaction before heading to the backstage area, having put on one hell of a match here tonight.

Rick Walker: “That has to be the most sportsmanlike match we’ve seen here tonight?”

Richard Roman: “It makes you sick, doesn’t it?”

“GOD DAMNIT!” is what we hear as the segment opens backstage with The Black Knight throwing his gym bag against a wall. He’s pissed off at being beaten by DTR toight, if only by a small margain. He’s about to storm out when laughing behind him, is Matt Lennox, getting ready to go home himself. The infuriated Knight turns around quizicially, staring straight at the Incredible One. “What’s so fuckin’ funny?”

“Oh come on, you don’t see it? There’s this big idiot in front of me, crying because he lost tonight. I suppose we can’t all taste the sweet taste of victory, can we?” Matt says with a I-want-to-knock-his-teeth-out grin.

“And who the fuck are you?” bluntly asks Marcus, who obviously isn’t a happy man.

Matt stands up and gets closer, tilting his head.

“Yeah, that’s a good one. The era of incredibility started tonight and you’ll have me believe I’m a fool if you didn’t witness it. But I’ll tell you this, if you don’t want to witness it again, I’d get outta here.”

Rick Walker: “Them be fighting words, me thinks.”

Richard Roman: “Marcus doesn’t want any piece of the Incredible One, let me assure you.”

“I’ll tell you something, if you think you’re so tough that you won’t get bounced in a match with me, how about we put that to the test?” Marcus considers. “Next week on Afterburn, The Black Knight vs. Matt Lennox inside a Steel Cage.”

Rick Walker: “Well Holy crap.”

Richard Roman: “That escalated quickly.”Matt grins.

“If you want to lock yourself inside a Cage with me, that’s your problem. I’ll see you next week on Afterburn.”

With that, Marcus turns his back to leave and FOREARM TO THE BACK OF THE SKULL! Lennox catches him with a blindsided shot and bundles him into the nearest locker head first.

Rick Walker: “THAT’S A CHEAP SHOT!!.”

Matt finds it hilarious and steps over the fallen body of The Black Knight, with his ring bag, ready to exit the building. Marcus may of made the challenge but he didn’t expect that, which means next week on Afterburn, Lennox is going to have an angry Knight on his hands.

Many heated words had already been exchanged by the time these two men hit the ring and when they did, it was a drag out brawl. The bell sounded and they went straight at each other with fierce right hands, brawling across the ring until Famous Clotheslined Zeek to the outside. Of course he followed and was caught, slammed into the barricade and then levelled with kicks. Wrestling didn’t take part in this contest as Williams launched Famous head first into the steel ring post.

The referee came to the outside and gave up on the count, quickly realizing that this would end in a disqualification if he wasn’t careful. The RIP City Saint pummelled Ed up the entrance ramp, only for Famous to Drop Toe Hold him face first on the steel ramp. Ed stomped away at him before pulling him back to his feet and connecting with a Snap Suplex. Both men writhed in agony before Ed dragged him to the ring and rolled him inside.

Famous finally covered… One…. Two… KICK OUT! Somehow the tough as nails Williams managed to kick out and the match was suddenly afoot again. Both men got back to their feet, Zeek connecting with some clever Muay Tai strikes, running to ropes, leaping off the middle and SPRINGBOARD KNEE!! THE SILENCER!! GOODNIGHT ED FAMOUS! The RIP City Saints covers… One…. Two… Three!! What a victory and what a war of words. These two just tore up Afterburn but it’s Zeek Williams heading to the final eight.

The fans are on their feet and rightfully so as an impressive glass case with a velvet red cloth sits in the middle of the ring. Richard Roman is up from commentary and standing with it, a big grin on his moustached face as he begins to talk.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we hope you’ve been enjoying the show,” he says to a big cheer from the crowd.“Good, good. Tonight, I have been placed in charge of revealing the OSW World Heavyweight Championship. As you by now know there is a tournament comprised of sixteen competitors here tonight and they’re all fighting for the gold underneath this cloth.”

“LET US SEE IT!” clap clap clap. “LET US SEE IT!” clap clap clap.

Rick Walker: “I think he’d better hurry up.”

“Okay, so without further ado-“

Suddenly the hyped up beginning of Lil Wayne’s “Watch My Shoes” interrupts, the legendary rapper spitting game immediately, working the crowd into an immediate stir. Pyrotechnics fire off as Marvellous Master Chef steps out from the back with a skillet in one hand, a middle finger lifted by the other.

Rick Walker: “Uhm…”

He lays the skillet down on the entrance ramp and humps it for a bit, before picking it up and running to the ring. After sliding under the ropes, he stands opposite Roman, who doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

“What can I do for you?” Roman asks, stepping forward with confidence.

SKILLET TO THE SKULL! Where the hell did that come from? Marvellous Master Chef suddenly reacts, whacking poor Roman in the skull with his skillet. He quickly rushes over to the Championship case and whips off the red velvet covering, placing it around his neck as if a cape.

Rick Walker: “I think Roman had better get the hell out of there.”

Suddenly, SKILLET TO THE GLASS CASE! The skillet crashes straight through it, making the Championship readily available and MMC doesn’t even hesitate before yanking the belt out and turning to run.

Rick Walker: “Hold on a second, he can’t do that! Somebody stop him! He’s trying to steal the OSW World Heavyweight Championship!”

The opening riff from “Open Your Eyes” blares throughout the arena, the lights strobe along to the music. Dave steps out from behind the curtain with a microphone, trying to slow this up pretty quickly.

“Cut the music, cut it!” he yells successfully. “Now whoa, hold your horses there cookie,” Dave says with a hand raised. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to steal the OSW World Heavyweight Championship, am I right?”

Rick Walker: “Don’t state the obvious, just stop him!”

Marvellous nods enthusiastically.

“I have to be honest with you, it isn’t the first time I’ve seen it done. I’ll give you an A+ for enthusiasm but a D- for creativity,” Dave says to a crowd chuckle whilst heading down the ramp towards the ring. “So being that we’re both still in the tournament and both still within a shot of winning that thing, I’d ask you to put it back. You see, when I win the tournament and collect my Championship, I don’t want to be picking pieces of burrito off of it for the foreseeable future.”

By now DTR has rolled under the bottom rope and entered the ring. He looks down at Richard Roman who’s holding his head in pain and smirks.

“The seventies called, they want their moustache back,” The Rattlesnake comments to a rapturous ovation of cheers. “Now look Chef, I don’t want to have to take it from you and put it back but if I have to, I’m going to. So how about you save us both the throw down and simply pop it back inside that case and we’ll be on our way.”

The Chef sighs a big puff of air before turning around and facing the case.

“That’s a good-“



Rick Walker: “Jesus Christ! This animal is out of control!”

Master Chef clocks him hard with the belt and before you know it, DTR is spark out on the canvas in dreamland. With the fans booing, The Marvellous One throws the title through the ropes, spreads his arms out in celebration and the finally exits the ring, grabbing the World Championship and making his way backstage.

Rick Walker: “Someone needs to stop him now! He’s stealing the OSW World Title!”

Desmond Cross and Hayden Hardkore locked up straight away in this one, Desmond taking him back to the ropes before sending him across the ring and connecting with a Clothesline on the return. Quickly he pounced back off into the ropes, Hardkore rolling under him as he jumped and popping back up, catching him on the turn with a Hip Toss. The Kiki headed to the ropes, leaping onto the middle andHURRICANRANNA! He covers almost instantly.. One… Two.. Kick Out! Hayden hops back to his feet and heads to the top rope, leaping off and DIVING HEADBUTT !NO-BODY HOME!!

Cross somehow moved out of the way and is back to his feet, grabbing The Kiwi and levelling him with numerous punches before scooping him up and driving him down to the mat with a Powerslam. He covers.. One… Two.. Kick Out! Both men roll away but it’s The Messiah’s Messenger who this time heads up top and when Hayden gets up.. LEAPING CLOTHESLINE! BOOM! He got all of it. Again into the cover.. One… Two… THREE! KICK OUT! “Ohhhh” cheer the fans as Cross nearly had it. Desmond is looking to finish this now and pulls Hardkore up – kick to the gut, F-5! AMAZING GRACE!! NO!! Hayden spins out and drops down behind him.. HIGH ANGLE BACK DROP!!

The Flying Kiwi covers… One…. Two…THR-NO! That’s not going to do it. He begins winding up his left hand to a buzzing “OOOOHHHHH” from the crowd and when Desmond gets back to his feet – POWER OF THE SOUTHPAW! A CRACKING LEFT HAYMAKER THAT COULD’VE BROKE HIS JAW! Cross falls flat on his back and Hayden leaps to the top rope like an agile cat, only to steady himself then leap with a Moonsault turned half barrel roll into a SWANTON BOMB!! THE FLYING KIWI! NOOOO!! DESMOND MOVES! The impact is so severe that Cross pulls him straight to his feet, kick to the gut.. THE REDEEMING!! CRUCIFIX POWERBOMB!! INTO THE COVER… ONE…. TWO…. THREE!! Desmond Cross is going to the final eight!

We’re just moments away from the Main Event when we head backstage to see Ed Famous and Zeek Williams beating the holy hell out of each other. They brawl across the backstage area, bouncing off walls and pillars as they struggle to try and gain the upper hand. Ed finally releases, backing up with a kick to the gut, only to grab Zeek and run him HEAD FIRST INTO A WALL!

Richard Roman: “What a shot!”

Rick Walker: “We need security back there to break this up as soon as possible.”

Williams falls to the floor in a heap and is visibly busted wide open but Ed doesn’t appear to be finished. He stomps away at him before walking off and grabbing himself a steel chair. He places it over Zeek’s throat and takes a seat, lording over him.

“It isn’t that I’m a sore loser, I hope you understand,” Ed says catching his breath. “It’s just that I don’t like you very much, Ezekiel.”

Richard Roman: “You don’t say?”

Rick Walker: “You could tell by their match earlier that this one wasn’t going to be settled so quickly.”


Rick Walker: “ENOUGH, DAMNIT!”

Security suddenly storm across to break it up, dragging Famous away as others attend to poor Williams. One can only imagine that as soon as Zeek is able, there will be hell to pay for this.

Rick Walker: “I’m telling you right now, there’s going to be a match between these two soon and when there is, they’re going to tear the house down.”

Richard Roman: “Good riddance to bad rubbish, is what I say.”

The bell sounds and the instantaneous brawl begins, all eight of these tired stars getting into the mix as quickly as possible. Mike Lane and John Pathlow end up on the outside whilst Lord Richard Merriweather rushes off to hide by the announce tables. The Black Knight and Waldo The Clown meet in the middle of the ring to slug it out and Hayden Hardkore takes is to Matthew Cories as Ed Famous gets himself a steel chair. The One Man Rebellion enters the ring, swinging the chair for the back of Cories, then for the head of Hayden, taking both men to the canvas. He pops down into the cover… One… Two… Cories kicks out.

Our first Champion was nearly crowned right there but on the outside, John Pathlow has been rattled into the steel steps – sending both them and he flying. Mike Lane is the man with a plan and is of course looking to send a direct message to the American Capitalists here tonight. He goes under the ring and reaches for a table, setting that bad boy up on the outside before Waldo The Clown comes over to interfere. Waldo slams his head off the table and drags him back to the barricade, slamming him back first into that as well. The Black Knight on the other hand is back to his feet in the ring and storms across the ring, launching himself to the outside and LANDING STRAIGHT ONTOP OF WALDO AND LANE!

“Holy Shit!” chants break out as all three men lay crumpled on the floor. It’s then that Lord Merriweather shows up out of no-where, diving into the cover on Waldo.. One… Two… THREE!! We have our first Hardcore Champion! The fan’s can’t believe it and boo’s echo out around the arena as Merriweather takes a hike and storms off up the entrance ramp. Ed Famous meanwhile spots him and is quickly in pursuit, accompanied by John Pathlow. Only the Champion can be pinned for the belt to change hands and that makes Merriweather a marked man with ten minutes left on the clock.

The brawl is now backstage and that’s where both Stephen and Edward wait for their boss and open a limousine door for him to hop inside. They quickly turn around to tend to Famous and Pathlow who in turn, immediately start brawling with the security team. The limousine is about to speed off when Hayden Hardkore appears in front of it with a lead pipe – causing it to come to a crashing halt. Hayden starts beating the holy shit out of the limo with his pipe and that’s when Merriweather escapes, running into a giant JUMPING REVERSE ROCK BOTTOM! RIGHT ON THE CONCRETE FLOOR! THE BLACKOUT!! The Black Knight nails him and now he’s into the cover.. One…. Two… THREE! A second Hardcore Champion with only five minutes left on the clock. Marcus grabs his Championship and rushes back towards the ring, hoping to escape the melee of brawling happening backstage.

When he arrives there, he rushes through the curtain only to walk into Waldo The Clown and RED MIST!!The Knight stumbles backwards holding his eyes, giving Waldo the chance to SNATCH HIS TITLE AND CRACK HIM IN THE SKULL WITH IT! WHAT A SHOT!! Waldo drops into the cover… One… Two… THREE!!We’ve a new Hardcore Champion! There’s about three minutes left and The Clown struts back to the ring, dancing along the way as the fans boo, clearly not impressed. It’s then that Hayden Hardkore comes barrelling out from behind the curtain with his led pipe, CRASHING IT OVER WALDO’S HEAD! The fans roar and we’re about to have our fourth Hardcore Champion… One… Two… Three! Hayden takes the Championship belt and runs back to the ring, sliding in and immediately looking to protect himself.

What he doesn’t realize is that from behind comes Mike Lane with a steel chair. Hayden spins to catch him, receiving the steel chair thrown at him for his troubles – to which he catches.. SHADOWKICK!! SHADOWKICK TO THE STEEL AND TO THE FACE OF HAYDEN FOR HIS TROUBLES!! Lane drops into the cover as the final fifteen seconds appear on the clock. One…. Two…. Three! We’ve a new Hardcore Champion and surely that’s it, surely. Lane barely has a chance to get back to his feet though before Matthew Cories rushes him with a LEAPING INVERTED STO!! CHUMBAWAMBA!! HE NAILED IT! HE HAS FOUR SECONDS TO COVER AND DOES… ONE… TWO… THREE! THE BELL SOUNDS ONE SECOND LATER AND MATTHEW CORIES IS OUR NEW HARDCORE CHAMPION!

Matthew Cories is back to his feet holding the Hardcore Championship high into the air, clearly pleased with what is a phenomenal victory here tonight – one that he damn near stole after staying ringside for a majority of the match. The fans though are on their feet with applause until suddenly, the arena goes dark.

Rick Walker: “What the hell is going on?”

Richard Roman: “I can’t see a thing, can you?”

The arena is suddenly thrust into darkness as the sounds of squawking crows can be heard. They flutter away and the lights turn back on, revealing the Scarecrow standing in the middle of the ring, his arms spread and his head lowered.

Rick Walker: “Holy shit! What the hell is that?”

Richard Roman: “That’s the thing nightmares are made of!!”

Matthew doesn’t even spot him at first, turning around to see Scarecrow stood behind him, his head lowered. He almost falls down at first but before you know it and quite literally out of no-where, Scarecrow snaps his arm out and hand around the throat of Cories, lifting him high into the air andCHOKESLAM!! THE HARVESTER!!


Richard Roman: “Why!? What’s going on here?”

Cories crashes into the canvas with an enormous thud and stays there as Scarecrow spreads his arms again and the lights go off. When they return, he’s no-where to be seen and the crowd have no idea what to make of it.

It’s then that we fade to black.