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


The sounds of sirens wailing in the distance can be heard echoing throughout the night sky as Nygma kneels in front of his brother, shocked to hear that he’d been set up.

This whole time, they were trying to save him.

“Don’t you get it, brother?” Luke queries earnestly. “I know you’re in there somewhere. I know you’re struggling. We hoped that if I apologized, if I reluctantly saw the errors of my ways, you might come back to us.”

The Riddler falls back onto his arse, scrunching up his face.

“You lied?” He asks.

“No,” Luke reiterates. “I didn’t lie. I am sorry. I should’ve never left you the way I did. I should’ve never abandoned my family. I made a mistake; I’ve made lots of them. I should’ve told you about papa, but I was afraid of what you might do. I didn’t want mom to see you like this.

The police cars suddenly pull up and officers lunge out of them, guns drawn. They approach both men, their weapons pointed at the face of Nygma.

Luke shakes his head.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” he begs. “He’s my brother.”

Nygma doesn’t react.

He just sits there, in utter shock.

Officers quickly place him in handcuffs, dragging him away slowly. As Luke is helped back to his feet, he shouts after him.

“I didn’t want it to end like this,” he bellows. “But I don’t know how else to save you.”

Nygma is bundled into the back of a police car.

I love you, man. I do,” Luke continues. “And I am sorry.”





“Oh mommy there’s so much more I want to talk about!”

The sound of childlike glee and sickeningly sweet amusement rings out through the streets as we once again see the wide smile of SeeSaw himself! The unhinged child in a man’s body stands proudly in front of the entrance to his Toybox!

New and improved, it’s almost sparkling as SeeSaw enters the door!

“No! You should wait for daddy to come to you first, Andy!”

The crackly voice of Jack does nothing to deter SeeSaw, Mr. Make Believe giggling as he walks inside.

“Why would I do that? He should be excited to see mommy, right? And it’s my Toybox, not his! I’ll go inside whenever I want!”

He barges inside, Jack still pleading.

“No no no! You need to wait-”

As SeeSaw makes his way inside, the man child comes face to face with his Daddy.

Dr. D’Ville.

And in the mad doctor’s hand? A walkie talkie. And every word he speaks into it comes directly out of Jack’s mouth.


“It’s not what it looks like, Andy…”
“It’s not what it looks like, Andy…”

The lie comes out in duplicate. SeeSaw looks on in shock, his eyes flitting between D’Ville and Jack. SeeSaw places his ‘mother’ gingerly onto a chair and looks at Jack.

“Daddy? Why… why does Jack sound like you now? And-”

D’Ville looks on in fear, putting the walkie talkie behind his back in a poor attempt to hide it. However, SeeSaw reaches inside of Jack’s head, his fingers wrapping around something and giving a yank.

And popping out a tiny microphone.

He looks at it in confusion for a moment before balling his fist up around it.

“You… you pretended to be Jack?”

D’Ville is quiet as SeeSaw, the deranged child inside he is, looks towards the skeleton.

“You made Jack talk… then you can make mommy talk too, can’t you?”

“Andy, I don’t think-”

“Make her talk, Daddy.”

“I can’t-”


SeeSaw bares his teeth, snarling like a child having a tantrum as he grabs D’Ville by his throat!

“Make. Mommy. Talk.”

Tears well in the poor boy’s eyes.

“Make her say she loves me. Now.”

D’Ville looks on helplessly unable to escape SeeSaw’s iron grip as the scene fades to black.





The drums of war beat just a little differently tonight as IWF’s Terror Squad and Jimmy Sartyr team up to face Monty Straight, Jac Bastard, and Jessie Williams!

We start things off with a handshake between Sartyr and Williams, much to the chagrin of Cody and Tyler as the two lock up. Sartyr gets the upper hand, sending Williams to the ropes before nailing the Prince with a dropkick! Williams lands in the corner, as Bastard tags in!

The makeup of this bout changes drastically as Sartyr faces an onslaught from the brawler, who lands some hard lefts and rights on the Innovator in Ovation before the Terror Squad rush into the ring, followed by Straight and Williams as the match descends into chaos before our very eyes!

In the midst of this insanity, Cody and Tyler gang up on Bastard with some hard strikes until Straight and Jessie send them out of the ring, as Jimmy looks to hit a neckbreaker on Jac…who counters out of it! MUMBLES SMILE! Jimmy is down and out as Jac covers…

…but Cody breaks it up at two! Jimmy gets a tag to Tyler in the corner, only for Bastard to get a tag to Williams as well! They square off as Tyler gets the upper hand…BUT JESSIE CONNECTS WITH A BOOMSTICK, BEFORE HE GOES FOR THE COVER! ONE! TWO! THREE!

The combined might of a Prince, a Bastard, and a Straight Shooter are enough to stop the IWF in this trios contest, but a commotion is swelling inside the Slaughterhouse…





With the six men worn down in the ring after that trios match, we soon see the source of the commotion as Anna Goodchild, Rain, and Rick Plant make their way to the ring, focusing their attack on Monty and Jac as Williams and Sartyr get an opportunity to escape what’s coming.

Cody and Tyler quickly join in, turning this into a five-on-two beatdown until Major Thom and Banzan run down to even the odds! It’s absolute chaos as we see Bastard take down Plant, only to be tossed into the corner by Rain. Banzan and Straight square off against the Terror Squad, as Thom and Anna trade blows.

And all the while, watching from the distance, is Lance Norman, a smirk on his face.

“This is what we’ve come to…the beginning of the end.”

The IWF squad is getting the upper hand now as Rain sends Jac out of the ring before turning his attention to Thom, delivering a nasty big boot to the Major’s chest as Cody and Tyler deliver dual knees to the head of the Straight Shooter and the Mountain, much to Lance’s amusement.

“OSW now knows what we have in store come Red Snow, when we extinguish the flame that has been burning inside this Slaughterhouse.”

However, to Lance’s surprise, the motley crew assembled to defend OSW refuses to relent. Jac slides back into the ring as Monty and Banzan slowly rise back to their feet. Even with Luke Storm missing from this picture, the squads stand off in the ring. Lance shakes his head, not from lack of confidence but because he knows his army.

“They will only push harder, to take back what’s rightfully ours. This is the end of our march, and the lines have been drawn… this is all out war.”





Berkshire Ellison Green regards the blank stare of the Anonymous mask with surprise.

Then comes the noise.

It rips into Berkshire’s ears. The women behind him fall to the ground in screaming.

Berkshire drops to a knee.

The masked figure goes to work. First is a kick from a steel-toed boot, directly into BEG’s face.

Then the masked one picks BEG up and hurls him through the expensive glass television stand.

The masked figure picks up BEG by his neck and pulls him out the glass balcony door, deactivating the audio weapon. He drags BEG’s broken body to the railing. Then rests BEG on his knees in front of it.

1,000 feet below, it’s a busy city night.

“The hunter becomes weak in times of plenty,” the masked one says with a distorted voice.

BEG makes no reply.

“While it would be fitting for someone who stands for nothing to die on his knees, you deserve a less noble fate.”

The masked one picks BEG up by his neck once more, hurling him down at the railing. BEG lands with most of his body forward: only the grip of the masked figure stops him from plummeting to his death.

“The predatory aristocrat, preying on those trying to do good in the world.”
“The robber baron, destroying the planet to build his gilded palace.”

“The self-absorbed child, given toys beyond his age, using them to throw history’s greatest tantrum.”

“You’re pathetic, Berkshire.”

“In the end, everyone will see that.”

The masked one inches BEG further out into the abyss.

“Fear, Berkshire. It’s a tool people like you use to make others feel weak.”

“Ambushes, surprise attacks, shows of force. The weapons of terror and tyranny.”

All BEG can see is the blur of the world beneath him.

“How does it feel to be on the other side, BEG?”

“Remember this feeling.”

With that, the shrouded figure pulls BEG back onto the balcony. He lands on the concrete floor with a thud.

The masked one removes his mask and throws it down on BEG’s shivering body, but his face remains shrouded in darkness. Then he turns and sprints away.





Surrounded by Pyre’s element of choice, Banzan must do everything he can to survive! Could Pyre set the Mountain ablaze?

The match is underway and Banzan stalks the ring, watching for Pyre to make a move! The Fire Witch smirks, dipping her hands into the flames and lighting them ablaze! The fire spreads to her extremities and she flies forward WITH A MASSIVE SHINING WIZARD! FLAMES SCORCH THE SIDE OF BANZAN’S HEAD!

Banzan stays standing! The Demigod absorbs a barrage of flaming blows that drive him into the corner! Banzan can only take so much AND PYRE LANDS AN ENZIGURI! Banzan is stumbling and Pyre jumps for a leaping DDT! BANZAN CATCHES HER! HE POPS HER UP AND DROPS HER WITH A OVERHAND CHOP!

Pyre is extinguished! The flames slowly die out from her limbs as Banzan drags her up AND SLAMS HER DOWN WITH A MASSIVE POWERBOMB! The Fire Witch looks broken in half and Banzan peels her up again and goes for a suplex- PYRE REVERSES! HURRICANRANA FROM THE FLAME WITCH SENDS BANZAN INTO THE TURNBUCKLE!

Fire licks at Banzan’s skin and he fights to his feet as Pyre lights herself entirely on fire! She leaps at Banzan and lays into him with as many blows as she can, driving Banzan to the ropes! PYRE HITS THE ROPES AND GOES FOR A FINAL KICK- DUKKHA! SAITO SUPLEX SENDS PYRE INTO THE FIRE BELOW!

Pyre lands in the flames! She has lost the match, but the fire only seems to soothe her!




New York City Police Department.

As Nygma sits in a lonely interrogation room, he’s observed by two men behind a window.

We can only see the backs of these two men – one is an officer and the other wears a white suit.

“You’d like to have a chat with him, then?” The officer asks. “Do you think you could get him to confess?”

“I don’t know,” the man with a familiar voice replies. “But there’s no-one more qualified to treat a man of such delusion than I.”

We switch back to the room, in which the door opens and in walks said familiar voice.

It belongs to Doctor D’Ville.

Nygma immediately stands, pulling on his restraints.

However, he’s locked in tight.

The officer allows D’Ville into the room and exits, leaving The Doctor to take a seat.

“I knew there would be a point in which I’d exact my revenge on you for what you’ve done,” D’Ville says with a grin. “But that isn’t why I’m here.”

Nygma tilts his head.

“Then what do you want, D’Ville?”

“I’m here because you’re a threat,” he admits. “And if I survive what’s coming, I need less enemies and more friends.”

Nygma scoffs.

“I turned you into this monstrosity and I can turn you back,” he announces. “I can make you Edward Newton again.”

There’s silence.

“For some people it’s immediate. For others It won’t happen overnight, but regardless of when, it’ll happen.”

They both stare each other.

“What do you say?” D’Ville enquires. “Do you want to be saved?”




Will Davy Jones’ Locker yield answers!?

Shark gets up in Reaper’s grill, baring his teeth. The Michigander pie-faces him, but Shark torpedoes him with a headbutt to the gut! The maneater snaps into the ropes and fells Reaper with a spinning neckbreaker. Reaper crawls onto all fours. Shark, however, hits a basement-dropkick which sends him between the ropes and to the outside!

Smelling blood, Shark pursues his prey. Reaper props himself up against the steel stairs… BLOODY MARY – THE SHINING WIZARD! REAPER MOVES! SHARK CRASHES INTO THE STEPS! The Harvester pulls his great-white ass up and bounces his head off the apron, then rolls him inside. He shotputs him into the ropes, then harpoons him with a big boot to the chest! ONE… TWO… KICKOUT!

Reaper cracks his neck. He hauls Shark up and traps his head… SINGLE-ARM DDT – SWIFT REVENGE! SHARK GRABS THE ROPE! HE SANDBAGS IT, AND REAPER HITS THE MAT! The Creature from the Deep steps over his prone foe… BLOOD IN THE WATER! THE CHIKARA SPECIAL SUBMISSION! Reaper screams in agony, but he uses his 30-pound advantage to drag them into a ROPE BREAK!

Eyes black and nostrils flared, Shark picks Reaper up. He huffs him into the ropes, but Reaper counters… JUSTICE BROUGHT! He flattens him with the Samoan drop. Kneeling in the corner, he cocks his fist and bides his time – something he’s all-too familiar with… Shark climbs to his feet—SHOTGUN BLAST! SHARK BLOCKS THE SUPERMAN PUNCH! BLOODMONEY – HAMMERLOCK DDT! ONE… TWO… THREE!

Blood Red Shark chows down on his competition!




Previously Recorded.

Doc D’Ville has a lot on his mind right now. The events taking place with SeeSaw are taking up the bulk of it, but in this moment right now, he’s got a more pressing problem.


The Red Knight looms over Doc D’Ville. They’re in a dark chamber somewhere, and Redwing has D’Ville cornered. A Redblade is each hand, Redwing is not playing games.

“Give me what I’m after, and I’ll leave.” Redwing growls. “I’m tired of asking.”

They’ve been at this for a while, apparently.

“I thought you were a hero.” D’Ville counters.

Redwing takes a step forward, and D’Ville continues.

“You are assuming an antidote even exists.” He says finally.

Redwing tilts his head.

“Is that really what you do?” Redwing retorts. “You twist these men’s minds and bodies and don’t even know how to fix them?”

D’Ville’s lip twitches, a grin almost forming.

“You can assume what you’d like.” He taunts. “But if I were you, I’d stop this search right now. My Shark has already asked you to end him. Just do what he says, and you won’t have to worry about an antidote.”

Redwing snorts.

“So there is an antidote? You’re worse than I thought, D’Ville. And I didn’t think that was possible.”

“There is.” D’Ville confirms. “But if you do find out what the antidote is, then what do you really expect it to do?”

Redwing stops and opens his mouth, but D’Ville continues.

“You saw what you did to the poor boy. What you call twisting, I call saving. If you find the antidote, the thing to reverse how I saved him from your bloodlust, then what do you think happens to him?”

No response from Redwing.

“That’s what I thought.” D’Ville continues. “If you want to save him from what I did to him, you’ll have to face what you did to him.”

D’Ville, with his confidence back, stands straight up in a shaken Redwing’s face.

“Now, are we done here?”

Expecting no response, D’Ville takes a step forward.

But Redwing reaches out to stop him. They lock eyes.




“I love you Andy!”


“Mommy loves you very much, Andy.”


“Mommy… mommy loves you so much. You’re my little sunshine, Andy!”

“No no no! She doesn’t sound right, daddy! Make her sound right!”

The sound of a tantrum in full swing could send shivers up even the most hardened man’s spine! We see the inside of the Toybox, SeeSaw once again lording over a frightened Dr. D’Ville.

“I’m trying, Andy!”

He speaks into his walkie talkie, the voice no longer coming out of Jack… but out of the skeleton SeeSaw brought with him. His ‘mother’s’ corpse sits in a chair, a garbled, artificially feminine voice coming from her empty skull as D’Ville speaks.

“Mommy, um, loves you SeeSaw.

“It’s ANDY to you, mommy! Andy.”

SeeSaw looks towards D’Ville, rage boiling beneath the surface as he looms over his father.

“Mommy needs to sound right! You know how she sounds, daddy. Do it right!

D’Ville says the same phrase over and over again, the voice changing each time with each strained and false proclamation of love! However, nothing can seem to please SeeSaw, Mr. Make Believe’s emotions boiling over as tears streak down his face.

“Why doesn’t she sound like she used to? Why does she sound so wrong, daddy!?”

Finally, D’Ville snaps! The doctor throws down the controller, stomping on it angrily as he stares down SeeSaw.

“She’s not your mother!”

SeeSaw’s tears stop, replaced with pure shock.


“You don’t have a mother, Andy. You were made, not born! Your memories are fake! She will never sound like the mother I put in your head because that mother does not exist!”

D’Ville’s outburst causes all the sadness to drain from SeeSaw’s face as he looks at his father. He’s silent for a few moments, only speaking after what feels like minutes.

“You lied to me, daddy.”

“I had to lie to you, Andy. I had-”

“Daddies shouldn’t lie to their children…”

D’Ville goes to speak again BUT CATCHES JACK TO THE SKULL! D’Ville has been knocked out by the old toy! SeeSaw stands over his father, his face devoid of all emotion as he speaks.

“You lied to me, daddy. Now you have to play with me… play with me in the Toybox, daddy. Make it up to me and play with me, daddy…”

We watch as D’Ville gets dragged into the Toybox, where he will stay for the next week as Red Snow dawns on us.




It is Candidate meets Outlaw tonight as Alton Whitlock meets Bishop. Who will stand tall when the dust settles on this little sunset duel?

Bishop is first to go on the offensive, charging across the ring as soon as the bell sounds and ringing an unsuspecting Whitlock’s bell with a RIGHT HOOK that knocks Whitlock back into his own turnbuckle. SHOULDER CHARGE DRIVES WHITLOCK’S BACK INTO THE STEEL and a SPRINGBOARD ELBOW STRIKE DROPS HIM TO THE GROUND!

Whitlock sits, back resting against the turnbuckle as Bishop backs up for another pass of offense. LOW DROPKICK, BUT NOBODY’S HOME! Whitlock slips out of the ring and collapses on the ground outside. Bishop follows him, wanting to keep the pressure on… BUT WHITLOCK MEETS HIM WITH A POKE TO THE EYE! The referee looks less than pleased!

After apologizing without apologizing like a true politician, Whitlock capitalizes on his small opening. PARTY POLITICS! HE TAKES BISHOP DOWN AT RINGSIDE! But try as he might, Whitlock cannot seem to roll him back in the ring! When he finally manages to, he has lost precious moments.

Whitlock covers for the pin… ONE! TWO! NO! A powerful kickout from Bishop and the pair meet toe to toe once more. They trade blows, which gives Bishop the upper hand. LAST GASP! NO! SOMEHOW WHITLOCK REVERSED IT! VERTEBREAKER!! HE HIT THE BETTER WORLD AND COVERS FOR THE PIN! ONE! TWO! THREE!

Alton Whitlock stole this one with some crafty moves. He carries the momentum into Red Snow He knows BEG will be watching, and he’s ready for the challenge!




In a dark alley, a black SUV waits with the engine running.

Alton Whitlock emerges from a maintenance door, tossing a long black cloak into the dirt and mud. Strapped to him are several larger, hacked-together looking electronics.

He climbs into the driver seat–he drove himself tonight–shifts the car into gear, and pulls out into the busy street.

His hands are trembling. He’s bleeding: the glass cut him, too.

But he did what had to be done.

Streetlights and billboard advertisements cast strange lights across Whitlock’s scarred face as he cruises through the city.

A long time ago, he asked himself, “If you do bad things for good reasons, does that make you evil?”

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Alton Whitlock, on some sleepless night or another, had decided that he will be as evil as he has to be to stop a man as vile as BEG.
If trying to save the world from an immensely powerful maniac required intimidation, brutality, fear; he would do it.

If serving the people required evil; he would do it.

Whatever it takes.

The radio returns from commercial break to an hourly news update. More about the election. The news cycle hadn’t stopped for more than a month now. Alton turns the radio off.

He smoothly pulls the SUV onto the highway on-ramp, accelerating. All around him, the city sparkles in the night.

He had broken laws, harmed innocents, and he was certain that Gouldern’s old assistant had stolen a lot of data to stitch together his makeshift tech.

It was all worth it. Because to beat BEG, he’s realized, he has to play BEG’s game. Fear. Terror. Punishment. No mercy.

Right now, Alton Whitlock knows precisely who he is and what he must do.

And at Red Snow, he’s going to do it.

By any means necessary.




In the field we saw last week, Banzan is meditating again.

“Some things never change, do they!?”

Bishop shouts trying to break Banzan’s focus.

“Trying to collect more energy big man?”

Banzan pays no attention and keeps focusing.

“It’s all good, you’re going to need every bit of that chi bullshit to beat me. I’ll let you keep collecting, after all I’m a bit of a collector myself.

Bishop lays a chest at Banzan’s feet and sits across from him.

“You see, I collect a prize from every one of my kills. I can’t get a medal for what I do but I can take a trophy home.”

Bishop opens the chest. He holds up a gray and brown pelt of fur.

“For instance, this is a werewolf pelt.”

Bishop takes out a necklace of crimson-stained teeth next.

“This is a necklace of vampire teeth, each belonging to another one of my victims. The tooth in the center belongs to one Gabriel Drake.”

Bishop is obviously trying to rile up Banzan but The Mountain stays focused as ever.

Bishop pulls out some old, splintered kendo sticks.

“These were the weapon of choice for the monks I had to kill when we needed a monastery for a base of operations in China. Not all of my victims are monsters Banzan. ”

Bishop pulls out some paper.

“I wouldn’t consider the man who wrote this story a monster.”

Bishop picks up a page of paper and hands it to Banzan.


It appears to be one last story by Aesop.

“It’s a story about you two. The ink was still wet on the page when I did what I had to to get to you. When I don’t kill monsters, it’s to ensure I can kill the most powerful. The moment a monster breaks is the moment I can destroy them.”

Bishop pretty much called his shot and if Banzan was a lesser man, he would’ve broke right there but he stays calm and quiet throughout it.

“Most monsters don’t have this kind of spirit you do Banzan, they are filled with rage and attack me the moment they can, you have passed another test. Your strength and spirit don’t seem to he your issue, I’ll take you out another way.”

“Keep on focusing and collecting, you’re going to need every last ounce of energy when I deal with you.”

Bishop stands up and boots Banzan in the face! He walks away after the cheap shot and we see a glow emanate from Banzan! However, it is not the familiar purple people have seen in the past, it’s a vivid crimson red! Banzan is enraged but he did not show Bishop one bit!

With newfound power, Banzan stands up and looks completely ready for Bishop!




Will the vigilante answer to justice!?

A tense staredown results in Crimson Justice turning his back on Judge. Taking exception. Judge spins him round. Redwing, however, ducks a steel clothesline and hits the ropes… Dropkick to the knee! Cutting the 6’09” Judge down, Redwing races in for the follow-up—RETURN TO ARKHAM! DOUBLE UNDERHOOK DDT! ONE… TWO… KICKOUT!

Redwing stalks Judge as he recovers. He points to the corner, eliciting a pop. He runs up behind him – RUNNING BULLDOG INTO THE TURNBUCKLE – THE KILLING JOKE! NO! JUDGE KEEPS HOLD OF HIM! He seats him on the top rope, then climbs up, taking him onto his shoulders… PERFECT BALANCE! TOP-ROPE ELECTRIC CHAIR DROP! ONE… TWO… SHOULDER UP!

Judge peels Redwing off the mat. Order bares his metal teeth – REDWING’S PAST MAY BITE HIM… BUT HIS COWL PROTECTS HIM! JUDGE QUICKLY DROPS HIM WITH THE CUTTER – EXCEPT REDWING PULLS OUT! Judge slams into the mat. Redwing pulls him up by the arm – GODWATCH, THE RIPCORD KNEE TO THE DOME! ONE… TWO… THR—SHOULDER UP!

The Watchful Protector signals for the end. Judge slowly crawls onto his hands and knees… DARKNESS FALLS—THE VERDICT! THE SPARTA KICK CUTS OFF THE CURB STOMP! Judge doesn’t cover him, though. He hauls him up into the powerbomb – THE RESTORATION! He snaps Redwing into the canvas! ONE… TWO… THREE!

The Judge brings the gavel down!




With the match finished and the dust settled, both Redwing and The Judge look to make their way out of the Slaughterhouse, when a familiar sound bursts out of the PA system.

“Hell Broke Luce! Hell Broke Luce!” The sounds of Tom Waits erupt into the Slaughterhouse and all eyes look toward the entranceway.


The Judge awaits him while Redwing makes himself scarce. There are no prizes for guessing who Reaper is here to see. He is still a few strides away from the ring when he points his finger at The Judge and bellows accusingly at him, a wild look in his eyes.

“YOU!” He charges the ring, sliding in and standing toe to toe with the giant Judge. “Who in the hell do you think you are?

Judge, of course, doesn’t respond. He’s not here to play rhetorics with his long time foe.

“After everything I’ve been through, everything YOU have put me through… You’re just going to walk away? Like a fucking coward?”

Judge does not take the bait. This only serves to anger Reaper further, who by now is all but frothing at the mouth.

“They DIED… Only because YOU couldn’t maintain some fucking universal balance. They died, and it was a damned MISTAKE.” He grabs at his hair, pulling it in frustration before his rage continues to boil over.

“And you just wash your hands of everything. You can’t figure out any answers, so you’re giving up?!”

This, finally, Judge responds to. Not out of anger, but with a voice of eerie calm tone.

“It is not the ideal choice, but it is the logical choice. We have done what we must, we have searched and my efforts have remained fruitless. I had one shot to find who was responsible for your family’s death. I took that shot when I put you through judgement, and my shot was mistaken.

For that, I am sorry. But no good will come of this. Deep down, you know that you too must move on.”

Reaper is silent for a long while, but eventually… He begins to laugh. Slow, rumbling laughter that comes from the belly and rocks his entire body. The Judge is puzzled as to the behaviour, and backs away slightly as Reaper begins to talk.

“Oh, what a choice of words. Yes, you had one shot. And unlike you, my one shot won’t miss…”

Reaching behind himself, Reaper pulls a 9mm pistol from a holster at his waist. Before The Judge has a chance to react, the shot has fired. Knocking him backwards, the bullet hits the Judge right in the centre of the chest. He falls, but does not stay down, quickly pushing himself back to a vertical base.

“Do you really think that your human weapons can pierce my armour? That you stand any chance against me? I have ASKED you to move on… But now, it appears that I must FORCE you to.”

He takes a step toward The Reaper, but stops in his tracks and looks down at the point where the bullet lies, still embedded in his armour plating. The Reaper smirks.

“What’s the matter, Judgey? Weren’t expecting armour piercing hollow tips?”

The Judge brings his hand to his chest and touches, before collapsing to a knee. The Reaper stands above him.

“I have what you will never have… I fight with all of the anger that losing a loved one and never finding the bastard responsible can give. So tell me, do you really think that you stand any chance against me. I promised that I would beat that tin can right off your head, and I am gladly going to do just that at Red Snow.

Then… I’m finding the prick responsible for this entire mess. And I’m going to put some bloody holes in him.”

Judge doesn’t respond. He simply waves his axe, slamming it into the ground, and disappears from the Slaughterhouse back to his Observatory. He has a bullet wound to heal…





Raging flames roar into the night sky as the sound of screaming, yelling and havoc can be heard.

The New York Police Department precinct is on fire.

It’s burning to cinder in front of us.

And the police?

Well, they’re fighting swarms of men and women in hooded jumpers with green hair and face paint.

The Laughing Stock.

It looks like they’ve come to rescue their leader.

As the entire precinct burns in front of us, police officers are being beaten and brutalized both inside and outside of it.

Meanwhile, Nygma sits with his head lowered inside interrogation.

His meeting with D’Ville having occured shortly ago.

It’s outcome unknown.

He sits there, having not moved a muscle.

Smoke bellows into the room as flames ravage outside of it, yet he doesn’t move an inch.

In fact, not a muscle.

Not a cough.

Not a splutter.

Not a single movement in sight.

Is he even alive?

Before long, fire bursts into the room, engulfing everything in sight, including The Riddler.

Back outside, the fight rages on, long into the night.

New York City Police are under attack.




Cold and calculating, the former world champion is a sadistic mastermind but even BEG may fear the monster that is the Sandman. Can he lead him to a crisis or will Berkshire be forced to have some not so sweet dreams?

The bell sounds as BEG rushes forward with a clothesline that damn near bounces off Sandman. BEG staggering back undettered as he rushes forward again, going low this time as he tries to take out Sandman’s legs but gets a hard knee to the face for his trouble that sends BEG flying back from sheer strength.

Green pulls himself up in the corner as Sandman rushes forward trying for an Avalanche that BEG barely dodges before leaping up and locking in the Billion Dollar Dream. BEG hangs on for dear life, trying to choke out Sandman but his efforts are for naught as Sandman easily tosses him away before nearly taking his head off with a massive Lariat.

Sandman goes to pull BEG up to his feet, Pyramid Scheme! BEG locks in the Triangle Choke that seems to do some damage to Sandman, all 230 pounds hanging off his neck slowing down the monster for a moment before he lifts BEG up high, an almighty Powerbomb shaking the ring and breaking the hold in an instant.

BEG is breathless and flat out on the mat as he’s peeled off the mat and spun around into a DEEP SLEEP! The End of Days spikes BEG into the mat but this can only end by submission as Sandman kneels down before driving both thumbs into Berkshire’s eyes 40 WINKS! BEG screams in pain before quickly screaming he submits

The referee quickly calls for the bell, Sandman not letting up on BEG for a few seconds before letting go, blood staining his fingernails before Sandman vanishes from the ring, leaving the referee and EMT’s to deal with the hurting BEG




After BEG and Sandman have cleared the ring, the crowd grows eerily silent.

Because in the center of the ring we find the Olympian, Tank Kersh.

And he looks extremely uncomfortable.


Choked up, he’s finally able to spit it out.

“I don’t know… What to do about my dad.”

The crowd feels the pain in Tank’s chest, the weight that hangs on his every word.

“You people have made him the legend he is. You people are part of why it’s so hard for him to leave. Which means it’s you people who are to blame for me being here in the first place.”

You could hear a pin drop in the Slaughterhouse.

“But I don’t blame you for loving my father. He’s a warrior, a true fighter. To the bitter end, he will battle. The problem is, he doesn’t really know how bitter the end can be.”

A small cheer of approval before the hush falls back over the crowd.

“Part of me thinks that it’s a good thing he is refusing to fight me back. That if he refuses to fight, I can win without hurting him, and we can leave this wretched world we find ourselves in together.”

A small “KERSH! KERSH! KERSH!” chant starts up in a section of the seats.

“But another part of me knows that if my dad leaves OSW without so much as throwing a fist in what would be the last battle of his career, it would break him.”

Agreement from the audience.

“So I’m asking you all for a favor…”

Tank takes a deep breath.

“Encourage my dad. When he balls up his fist and prepares to defend himself from me… Encourage him to fight back. Beg him to fight back. Scream for him to fight back.”

Tears stream down Tank’s face, but neither his voice nor his resolve waver.

“I know I may lose to him if he fights back. But I know he might lose himself if he doesn’t… And I just… I just can’t imagine my dad going down without swinging.”

Tank drops the mic as the crowd finds a weird stirring in their souls. Like they are heading towards something that they don’t know is good or bad. All they know for sure is that it’s big — and that it’s going to hurt.



Unknown Location.

Jimmy Sartyr is walking through a large thorny thicket. Each step seems to hurt, but he continues to ascend up the mountainside he is on regardless. He is carrying the map given to him by Jessie Williams, the one now in the possession of Mr. Sandman.

With a large effort, Sartyr heaves himself through the thickest portion of the bush to enter a small clearing. The trees around them form a canopy.

No one would be able to see this place from the sky. Sartyr looks at the map and nods.

Ahead of him is a flat area built into the rock.

A door.

Just as he takes a step forward, Jimmy pauses.

The thicket is rustling.

“Jessie?” He asks. “You finally make it out here?”

No answer.

With a sigh, Jimmy Sartyr walks up to where the noise came from.


He shakes his head and turns around…


Sarytr falls backwards into the bush, getting tangled up as Mr. Sandman throws the map to the ground. The thorny branches all seem to bend to the will of the Dream Demon as he watches them curl up around Jimmy Sartyr, imprisoning him in their grasp.

Sartyr tries to cry out but cannot as Mr. Sandman walks away, opening the door into what surely is his Dungeon. The Innovator tries to move, but they hold him even tighter, the thorns piercing his skin.

His eyes slowly close.


Sartyr takes one last breath, the branches beginning to curl into his nose and mouth.


The branches over his face are cut away.


A knife begins to cut Jimmy free. The very relived Sartyr falls out of the branches to hit the ground. He looks up to see his savior.

Jessie Williams.

“How?” Jimmy sputters, pointing at the map on the ground.

“I told you I was going to distract him, didn’t I?” Williams shrugs. “I bought you time to get here.”

He points to the map that Sartyr had.

“That whole thing with the tracking potion and the map?” The Prince begins. “It wasn’t entirely true. I figured Sandman was watching, so I lied. The real tracking potion was used between my knife and the map I let Sandman steal. He led me right to you.”

Sartyr gets up and dusts himself off.

“And to that.” Jimmy finishes, pointing to the door.

Williams turns and looks at it.

Everything has led up to this.

This is the culmination of all that he has fought for, watched his uncle die for.

The Prince nods to Sartyr and the pair approach the door.

“You don’t have to come with me.” Jessie says.

“I’m with you to the end of the line, pal.” Jimmy fires back.

Jessie reaches his hand out to touch the door frame.

It opens.




Two great champions go head to head tonight in a war of ultimate manoeuvres. Will Storm go down the Rabbit Hole or will Alice get stuck under an almighty Downpour?

The bell sounds as Luke Storm rushes forward, trying for the Lightning Strike that Alice just manages to dodge, sidestepping before delivering a palm strike to the side of the head that rings Storm’s bell. Alice follows up with an elbow to the jaw that racks Storm before a Snap Suplex slams him into the mat.

Alice backs up, TERRIBLY…STORM ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY! Alice fails to land the legdrop, slamming down on the mat tailbone first as she staggers up into LIGHTNING STRIKE! The Superkick hits flush as Alice crashes to the mat but that won’t finish the match. Storm lifts Alice up, trying to end this but Alice slips out of the Codebreaker attempt, SPIKE DDT

Alice backs up, TERRIBLY LATE! The Legdrop hits flush this time as Alice picks Storm up, looking to finish it herself but Storm surprises her with a hard right to the face. Alice staggers back, responding with a right of her own as the pair begin exchanging hard strikes back and forth, each trying to knock the other down.

A stiff headbutt staggers Alice back as Storm rushes to the ropes, bouncing off, RUNNING KNEE TO THE SIDE OF THE HEAD! Alice crashes to the mat as Storm signals for the end. Backing up as Sweet Alice slowly rises up to her feet before sprinting forward and leaping up high, DOWNPOUR! The Codebreaker hits flush as the referee calls for the bell

The Real F’N Deal picks up the victory here tonight, trapping Sweet Alice in a torrential downpour as he’s the first to hit his finisher.




Alice enters the backstage area, exhausted from the pure hell she just put her body through. However, it is her mind that has been in hell ever since her beloved storybook was taken by the evil “Fire Queen.” Without realizing it, Alice continuously finds herself wandering the halls, lost in her twisted thoughts.


A fire ball erupts in her face, singeing the hairs upon her head. Alice swings wildly, putting out the remaining flames on her tattered dress. On the floor in front of her is a page with colorful drawings and artful calligraphy.

“Oh dear, the Fire Queen is destroying my storybook,” Alice yells, reaching down to collect the page.

A few feet after the first page, there’s another. And another. And another. Alice quickly picks up the pages, following the path as if on some twisted scavenger hunt. The pages continue until we get to the door labeled “Boiler Room.” Alice quickly opens the door. In the corner of the room is a raging inferno. Fearing that her precious storybook may be ablaze, Alice sprints towards the fire, looking for an extinguisher.


Before she can put out the flames, a STEEL PIPE slams against her head!

After a few moments, Alice’s eyes begin to flicker to life. However, she quickly realizes that her hands and feet are tied to a chair she now finds herself in, her mouth duct tapped shut. Pyre emerges from her side and a sly grin forms across her face.

“Can I get you something for that headache, my dear, it looks like a killer,” Pyre says tapping the pipe against her hand. Pyre then sits down beside Alice and pulls out Alice’s storybook from a nearby bag.

“You didn’t honestly think I would do something so evil as incinerate your storybook, did you? That would have been heartless, Alice. No, I wanted us to have story time together before our important day.”

Alice squirms, trying to break free.

“I don’t want to go among mad people said Alice. Oh you can’t help that said the cat. We’re all mad here. I’m mad, you’re mad,” Pyre read, grinning.

“Soon the madness will be over, Alice. I promise. Our next stop is Red Snow.”

Pyre grabs the chair, pulling it out of the room.



Flash.In a sudden blast of light, a portal opens and through it steps Sigil.

He’s arrived in the place where Voynich is being held captive and in front of him, the man himself sits unconscious and tied to a chair – bleeding profusely from some gnarly wounds on his face.

Sigil goes to untie him, only The Butcher steps out of the shadows, holding The Peacekeeper.

“I recognize that,” Sigil growls, backing away. “But you’re hardly pure of soul.”

The Butcher sneers, curling his lip and burrowing his brow.

“Do you wanna take that chance?” He offers, cocking the gun. “Do you know what I’ve sacrificed, Sigil? Who’s telling what I received for it in return?”

Colin carefully walks around him, forcing him to turn his back on his friend. Sigil backs The Butcher off, walking further away from Voynich and deeper into the room.

“Now to escape, you could freeze time or alter reality; you could make me fall in love with you. You could even simply portal out of here; if only you weren’t standing in one of the very few places that halt your powers.”

The Collector tilts his head, following The Butcher’s eyes upwards.

On the ceiling above, a large white circle is painted. Within said circle are various different symbols.

“Do you know what that is?” Colin asks with a chuckle. “It’s a Primordial Trap. Those crystals you wield are blocked by it, as are you. You can’t use any of your powers, including your portals.”

Sigil tries to walk forward, but he can’t – he’s physically stuck within the bounding of the circle.

“What’s the meaning of this?” He barks.

“Your demise,” The Butcher barks back. “I told you I’d kill you, you cunt.”

For the first time ever, Sigil panics. He looks around himself frantically, looking for a way out.

The Butcher puts the gun down and pulls out his cleaver.



Colin steps into the primordial trap, cleaver in hand, menace in his eyes, fixed directly on Sigil. His strides are slow, methodical, plotting. Sigil is shuffling his head side to side, trying to figure out his options, shuffling around the perimeter of the circle, whose circumference is approximately the size of a wrestling ring.The Butcher charges at Sigil and slashes with the cleaver. Sigil easily sidesteps out of the way of the loose swing, but Colin is pursuing him, big arced hacks with his favoured weapon and Sigil is forced to duck, weave, sidestep and roll out of harm’s way.

“You’ve got nowhere to run, cunt!” The Butcher sneers before moving again with purpose towards Sigil, using his enormous frame and a surprising lightness of step to close down the space around The Realmwalker. Another wild slash from Colin, Sigil ducks but The Butcher quickly arcs back upwards with the blade and this time he’s too quick for The Collector, who’s attempt to evade is a little slow and he takes a glancing blow across his chest. The red cascade down his torso begins.

The wound has opened Sigil but it’s not significant, a scratch at best. But it’s enough for Colin to seek a fatal strike, raising the cleaver above his head. Sigil has an opening and charges at The Butcher, a shoulder thrust driving the OSW owner backwards a yard and causing him to drop the cleaver.

Now it’s Sigil’s turn to strike back. He explodes with an uppercut below the chin. It’s a strike that stuns rather than damages, but The Collector follows this up with a palm strike to the chest and then swivels into the air…







As Sigil hits the deck, his head bounces off the concrete. Colin is on him quickly, with a huge blast of his right fist, flush in the face. Sigil is seeing stars. Even through the mask he felt that impact.

The Butcher peels Sigil off the floor and rocks his body with a sledgehammer body shot. That was with the right, then a massive left comes in and you’d swear you heard a rib cracking. Another right, and another, then a huge left to finish.


Sigil is slouched, he’s heaving, taking in huge gulps of air. But suddenly every drop of oxygen is sucked out of him as The Butcher wraps both of his gorilla arms around The Collector and hoists him into the air.




Indeed The Collector begins to flop in the iron grip of The Butcher, who is screaming something inaudible. But wait…










Both are standing no more than a foot apart, but there is no doubt who has come off the worse for wear. Sigil is breathing hard, he’s favouring his left side. The Butcher is starting to recover from those mind wobbling blows to the skull, blood running down his face.




Sigil has somehow summoned that huge effort out of his body, sending Colin flying out of the circle. But Sigil is also on the floor, struggling to move like that took every last drop he had in him. The Collector forces himself up onto an elbow, then onto all fours and eventually onto one knee. He looks to his left.


Colin steps out of the shadows beyond the primordial trap and back into the light of the circle.

He’s got the cleaver again.

Sigil, on his knees, raises his arms, palms facing outwards but The Butcher pounces and with a powerful slash he nails Sigil between the eyes with the cleaver.




Colin stands over the fallen Collector, the cleaver lodged but protruding from the head of the latter.

But something causes The Butcher to step backwards.



Colin smirks as Sigil gets back to his feet and rips the cleaver out from his mask, the strong material taking the brunt of the blow and no doubt saving The Collector’s life.

“COME ON THEN!!” The Butcher screams.

Sigil drops the cleaver to the floor and takes up a pugilist stance. Colin’s lip curls into a smile. He slowly rolls up his sleeves, balling his fists and stepping into The Collector.












Standing over The Butcher, Sigil unleashes a barrage of blows to the head and shoulders.





The Butcher, oozing tears of blood, releases Sigil, who drops Colin back to one knee with a low kick, then wraps his satchel around the throat of The Butcher and with the strap Sigil begins to strangle the OSW owner.



Colin grabs Sigil and slams him onto the floor face first. He mounts The Collector and begins hammering away at the back of his head, clubbing with calculated power and controlled rage. After eight or nine of these brutal blows, Sigil goes limp, he’s barely hanging onto consciousness.

An exhausted Colin rolls onto his back, fighting for breath himself. Nearby lies The Butcher’s cleaver.

To be continued.




Back in the Newton household, Luke Storm paces back and forth on the phone as his mother sits at the same table we’ve become accustomed to seeing.

“What do you mean, burned to the ground?”

Her eyes widen as he continues.

“No, I’m out of state; I had a match and came back home to see my mother. Where’s my brother, is he okay?”

Storm pauses.

His heart sinks.

He doesn’t say another word.

Instead, he places the phone down on the side and walks over to his mom. He kneels down beside her and grabs her hands.

“He’s gone,” he announces. “There was some kind of riot at the police station. People attacked it and set it on fire. Eddy was left inside interrogation, bound and shackled.”

Immediately, Luke’s mom bursts into tears.

“They found his body where they left him.”

As the family mourns inside the Newton home, the sound of glass shattering shocks both Luke and his mother to their core.

Storm rushes towards the back door to see it kicked off its hinges, glass everywhere.

Stood before him is deranged looking Nygma.

“Honey, I’m home!”

He swings his baseball bat, clocking Luke upside the head as hard as he could. Blood splatters across the floor, ceiling and cupboards as The Laughing King drops him in one fell swoop.

He quickly drops the bat and grabs a hold of his brother’s legs, dragging him across the broken glass and out of the doorway.

By the time their mother arrives to safely inspect the situation, Nygma and Luke are gone.

All that’s left is the blood.

Lots of blood.

She lets out a blood curdling scream.