SOULS OF THE DAMNED
Click.
Static covers the screen as a Play ► symbol appears in the bottom right-hand corner.
Pacing.
Footsteps clunk around a dusty study, back and forth, back and forth. As someone restlessly paces, we pan out to see that light blue ghostly hues surround the room. The figures seemingly close in, their target? Tombstone.
The Ferryman clutches his head in agony, trying to keep the voices out.
They’ve intensified.
“You must take us,” the soul’s chant.
“No,” he cries out.
“You must.”
He stops, dropping to his knees in the middle of the room. With his head in his hands, he clasps around his ears, trying to shut out the voices.
“We are the souls of the damned,” they say. “Some of us are tormented. Some of us demand answers. Why aren’t we at peace, Ferryman? Why do we follow you?”
“Enough,” he begs. “Please. Igor…”
Suddenly, there’s a thunderous boom that rocks the entire Mortuary. White light appears as if out of no-where, consuming a convulsing Tombstone – shining out of his body brightly.
When he stops convulsing, his eyes are a dead and pale white.
“You set the fire that almost burned down The Mortuary,” he announces gruffly. Everyone thought that was Drewitt, but it wasn’t. “You wanted my attention; he wanted my attention. You’ve got it.”
What the fuck does that mean?
Cut.
WARNING
Deathrow.
In the office of Max Meadows, we watch as The Warden gets up from his chair and heads to the door. He carefully tracks his every step outside of the room, down the halls and into a darker location somewhere towards the back of the cell block.
He opens a door and enters, being stopped abruptly by a whispered voice.
“Tonight is the night,” the voice says, warning him of impending action.
“Are you sure?” He asks, stroking his facial hair. “I thought a message was sent after I put Prophet down last week.”
The whisperer scoffs.
“No such message was received. Their plan is to strike at the Death Chamber tonight,” he continues.
Meadows thinks deeply.
“I think it’s such time that your allegiance is revealed, don’t you?” He asks rhetorically. “The Uprising of Deathrow know not of your intentions. You’re well embedded and your turning on them will throw everything into doubt.”
There’s a pause.
An eerie contemplative silence.
“Very well,” the whispered voice agrees.
“Good,” Max says, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll be seeing you at the Death Chamber tonight.”
He slowly turns around and exits the darkened room, leaving the turncoat whisperer behind.
Who is it?
Cut.
Arcadia Censorship Authority chairman Sebastian Boswick looks to redact the glamorous Narcissa Balenciaga in his in-ring debut!
Tie up, collar-and-elbow but Narcissa ducks under jumps onto Boswick’s back like a spider monkey and applies a sleeper hold around his neck, but he throws Narcissa to the mat and stomps her whilst shaming her with derogative terms including, “vixen,” and with an audible gasp from the crowd, “slut!”
Boswick Irish whips Narcissa into the corner and follows after her with a running big boot— STAMP OF AUTHORITY— but Narcissa ducks and uses Boswick’s own momentum against him, latching onto him while falling over the ropes into a tarantula— WEFT AND WARP!! The ref counts to five to break it…
Narcissa releases the hold and catches her balance on the apron. As the ref checks on Boswick who flopped face-first onto the mat, the uptight, little Valerie Perrywinkle sprints at Narcissa from the outside— AND SLAPS THE SHIT OUT OF HER! The slap’s force pushes Narcissa through the ropes…
Right into Boswick who surprises her from behind— SCHOOLBOY! ONE! …TWO!! …BALENCIAGA KICKS OUT!! Both competitors to their feet and Boswick sprints at Narcissa— BIG BOOT DROPS HER! Boswick calls for the proverbial red tape, locking the dazed Narcissa into— THE CENSORER CROSSFACE!!! Narcissa reaches out… AND SHE TAPS OUT!!!
Narcissa Balenciaga is Sebastian Boswick’s first victim of censorship as he picks up the big victory tonight!
WINNER: SEBASTIAN BOSWICK
NO KIND OF PRESENT
What a poor bastard. He sits huddled with his knees to his ears inside a black cage, looking out at the perturbed face of Felix Foley, who turns to face Doom with more questions than any kind of answers.
“What is this, buddy?” He tries to enquire politely and calmly.
“This is your present,” Doom retorts with his arms folded. “I want to prove to you that heroes don’t exist.”
Foley’s eyes widen.
“This is no kind of present!” He blurts out.
That seems to frustrate Doom, who lets out a sigh.
“What I mean to say is, buddy, that holding another person hostage is a bad thing. This isn’t right. You must let him go,” Foley says as convincingly as possible.
The Scientist cackles.
“You and your jokes, Felix. Next, you’re going to tell me that I shouldn’t kill people.”
“You shouldn’t,” he says with a shake of his head.
“Hah!” Doom bellows.
Foley doesn’t know what to do next. Doom taps him on the shoulder with a chuckle and heads towards the rest room.
Mrs. Foley’s Baby Boy bends down, looking at Destructo Boy with sadness and empathy in his eyes.
He turns back to look for Doom, seeing no sight of him.
“I’m going to let you go, okay?” He says to Destructo Boy with a nod. “Please don’t tell anyone what my friend did. He’s misguided and confused.”
The young hero nods in agreement.
Foley carefully opens the lock on the cage only for Destructo Boy to pounce immediately. The hero quickly slaps him with as hard as he can right hands, mounting him with squealing punches before getting back to his feet and running away as fast as he can.
As Destructo Boy escapes, Doom comes back into the room just in time to see Felix reeling with a bloodied nose.
“What on earth is going on!?” He demands to know, realizing that his captive is gone. “Don’t you dare tell me you let him go.”
Foley shakes his head.
“I.. uh… he.. uh…”
Suddenly, a white light envelopes the entire room and when it vanishes, so have they.
Both men are gone.
Gone.
Cut.
CONQUEST II
“Eric Masterson, do you hereby swear to uphold the values of The Third Eye?”
We cold open in the Altar, and Vision stands next to a kneeling man. The man, unlike the rest of the cloaked figures, has his eyes intact.
“I do,” he replies.
Vision nods.
“And do you agree to cede use of your mortal eyes in order to be granted access to your Third Eye? In doing so you agree that you will use this sight as intended for the good of The Third Eye?”
“I do,” Eric replies.
Vision turns to one side, where another member of the Third Eye holds a deep contained. Within the contain is a metal rod, sizzling with heat.
“Then, Eric Masterson,” he starts, lifting the rod by the cooler end, though he still needs the use of thick gloves to ensure he does not burn his hands. “You must give yourself to us now.”
Vision presses the hot end of the rod into Eric’s left eye. Eric, who has trained for this moment, keeps the pain behind gritted teeth, barely making a sound.The rod withdraws from the eye socket, the eyeball attached to the end, but the hot metal cauterizes the wound it leaves behind.
Vision moves the rod over to the right eye and begins pressing.
BANG.
Grimskull enters the Altar. The sudden entrance causes Vision to jump, and he drives the rod deep into the eye socket of Eric.There is a bloodcurdling scream, which stops almost as soon as it begins, and Eric falls to the floor, smoke pouring from his eye, and a stench of burning flesh filling the air as Eric’s brain cooks inside his skull.
Vision is incensed and turns towards Grimskull, fists balled. He storms over to him, growling.
Suddenly, a white light envelopes the entire room and when it vanishes, so have they.
Both men are gone.
Gone.
Cut.
SILENCE
The Clinic.
Amidst the shattered glass and overturned medical equipment, Dr. Death sweeps up the remnants of his battle last week with Doom. Normally, he’d make Frightengale do this, but… you know.
Moving slower than usual, the Luchadoc dumps some debris into a trash bin when a shadow enters the doorway to the Clinic causing Dr. Death to chuckle.
“Come to gloat?” He says.
El Mariachi Muerte steps in, his guitar in hand. The room falls silent as Death notices the guitar, save for the soft hum of the air filtration system.
“Ah, come to seek revenge then?” He says. “I assure you, my dear Frightengale has done more than enough to earn your ire as well.”
EMM shakes his head.
“I’ve come to plead with you, amigo,” Muerte begins, “this path you’ve chosen, it’s a dead end. Can’t you see it only ends one way?”
Dr. Death pauses, turning his back on his former partner. “Even now, your faith persists? Impressive, if foolish. I prefer hard facts. Science.”
Muerte takes a step forward. “You have a gift…”
Dr. Death snorts, turning to face Muerte. “You think I do this for fun? For the good of my patients?” He gestures around the Clinic. “I am the best doctor in Arcadia, yes, but I am only so because of my hard work. My blood, my sweat, my tears. Not because a Mariachi gave me a guitar. Everything I’m doing, it’s all part of a bigger plan, a vision that you cannot possibly comprehend.”
Muerte narrows his eyes. “Then enlighten me.”
Dr. Death laughs, the sound echoing eerily in the Clinic. “You’re so naive, amigo. While you’ve been standing here, I’ve been filtering pure nitrogen into the room.”
He taps his mask.
“I’m protected, but you? Soon, you’ll fall into a silence.”
Muerte’s eyes widen in realization, but he remains defiant. “Why? Why do this?”
Dr. Death leans in, his voice a sinister whisper. “I know this won’t kill you, but I need you, Muerte. Just like I need Frightengale. But you’ll find out why soon enough.”
Muerte takes a shaky breath, feeling the effects of the nitrogen. “You won’t get away with this.”
Dr. Death smirks, watching as Muerte’s vision blurs and his knees buckle. “I already have.”
Flash!
Suddenly, a white light flashes and they’re gone.
Cut.
Albert’s first night in OSW isn’t an easy one as he faces off with Arcadia’s greatest hunter!
Luther is on Albert with terrifying speed! Like a wild animal pouncing on his prey, Grim shoulder checks into Albert! The Illuminator smashes back first into the turnbuckle and stumbles out into a powerslam! Luther forces him up and whips him to the ropes! BLOOD SPORT! BROGUE- NO! ALBERT TACKLES THE KNEE!
Lamplight avoided an early end as he grabs Luther’s leg and drops an elbow to his knee! He works the joint with well placed kicks before forcing Grim over into a single legged Boston Crab! The pressure on the knee is intense but Luther doesn’t give in! HE KICKS WITH HIS FREE LEG!
Grim’s blows land on the kidneys and force the salesman off! The Hunter stumbles on his bad knee before nailing Albert with a German Suplex! Luther is slow to stand but he rushes Albert down! ONLY TO GET HIT WITH THE DROP TOE HOLD! LUTHER HITS THE TURNBUCKLE!
His face careens off of the bottom turnbuckle but Grim doesn’t relent! He forces himself up and smashes Albert with a huge right hand! A harsh heabutt to the nose follows before he shoves Lamplighter back! AND GOES FOR THE GREAT PURSUIT- NO! THE KNEE GIVES OUT AND HE LANDS IN ALBERT’S ARMS! ILLUMINATION THEORY! THE WIDOW’S PEAK! He covers! One! Two! Three!
Mr. Lamplight has illuminated OSW here tonight with an impressive win over Luther Grim!
WINNER: ALBERT LAMPLIGHT
I SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE
Harold Attano.
When we catch up with the former convict, he’s walking through a busy unknown area with a note in his hand. The note in question has directions on it and was given to him by Narcissa Balenciaga. Where they lead or to what is what Harold hopes to find out.
He turns a corner to a large steel door and knocks it three times. A flap opens, but only darkness can be seen within.
“Harold Attano,” he says nervously.
The door unbolts multiple times and opens. He slowly walks in, only to have a hood shoved abruptly over his head and the door slammed and locked behind him.
Before long, the lights are on, revealing numerous people in full cloaked attire.
“Can you be trusted, Harold Attano?” A voice from the group enquires.
Harold nods.
“I was asked who I want to be by Narcissa Balenciaga,” he announces. “I have no idea what that means to any of you.”
There’s a sudden silence.
Whispers.
Something is going on.
Just then, the large metal door has its bolts unlocked and is thrust open. Two voices are clearly agitated as they’re forced inside.
Harold has his hood abruptly ripped off, revealing Jackson Cade and Colt Ramsey.
The leader of the group has their voice altered and steps forward.
“The answer to our question is that you clearly cannot be trusted,” they say angrily. “Your two accomplices were found spying on your arrival.”
Attano looks at them with raised eyebrows.
Cade shrugs.
“In my defence, I was also asked who I wanted to be,” he declares.
“Narcissa Balenciaga is an intermediary for our cause,” the voice says defiantly, stepping forward. They wave the rest of the people out of the room and watch as they exit.
“That’s horseshit,” Colt interrupts, surprising them all.
Cade looks confused.
Harold nods.
“I saw Narcissa and Colt talking a few weeks ago. I saw Hercules – long forgotten around these parts,” he admits, looking at Cade. “Something isn’t right.”
Flash!
Suddenly, a white light flashes and much like all night, they’re gone.
Cut.
CABIN IN THE WOODS
The Cabin.
Jinx stands outside Luther Grim’s cabin in The Groves, contemplating her next move. As if a rush of blood to the head occurs, the VHS Champion storms towards the door and kicks it open.
The place is beaten and battered after Levelmania but she pays that no mind, immediately searching through draws.
“Ahem.”
In her fury to find information, she forgot one vital thing.
Luther Grim.
His clearing of his throat stops her dead in her tracks.
“Are you looking for this?” He asks, waving the picture he had in his hand at Levelmania about.
She tilts her head.
“I want to know what happened to my fucking brother,” she tells at him angrily.
Luther shakes his head.
“Do you?” He questions. “I’m not sure that you do. You know what I do for sport, don’t you girl?”
That pisses off the VHS Champion. She steps forward.
“You hunt,” she growls angrily.
He nods.
“Some things are better left alone. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself involved in, but it won’t end well for you,” he suggests.
She isn’t interested.
Jinx grabs him by the throat, infuriated by his reaction; a simple sinister smile.
“You’re gonna tell me what happened,” she demands. “Or I’ll kill you myself.”
Suddenly, a white light envelopes the entire ringside area when it vanishes, so have they.
Both are gone.
Cut.
Will the fire inside The Burned Man be snuffed out by Drewitt, or will the Explorer find a detour to his journey by the Sole Survivor?
The two men start off trading blows, with Drewitt getting the upper hand as he sends Burned Man to the ropes before dropping him with a shoulder tackle…but he’s not finished as The Explorer follows up with some hard stomps for good measure! Drewitt refuses to relent, but the Sole Survivor escapes!
TBM rolls out of the ring, looking for a reprieve from the Explorer’s onslaught as Drewitt takes his leave to pursue him…but the Arcadian Mummy catches him with a wide haymaker, driving him back. Drewitt charges right at him for this…RUNNING INTO A SPINNING BACK ELBOW BY THE BURNED MAN!
BACKDRAFT! TBM just walloped the Explorer, grabbing him by the head to send him back into the ring before he slides in close behind, making the cover! ONE! T–NO! Drewitt kicks out, not ready to stay down as he gets back to his feet…just as TBM comes rushing at him!
Only it’s Drewitt who does the damage, grabbing the Sole Survivor before hoisting him up on his shoulders! He’s got him up for the Burning Hammer! TRAVELLER’S GAMBIT! TBM is down but stirring as he slowly rises…INTO A CHOKESLAM BY DREWITT! ARDUOUS JOURNEY! Drewitt covers! ONE! TWO! THREE!
The Burned Man is nearly unraveled by the Explorer as Drewitt picks up the win!
WINNER: DREWITT
WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE ME?
The Burned Man gets back to his feet, only something catches his attention.
At the entrance, The Destructo Boy kneels – exhausted, dehydrated and utterly decimated by his kidnapping.
“Dad?” He croaks.
The Burned Man rushes from the ring, rolling immediately to the outside and running down the steps towards the ramp. It’s the quickest we’ve ever seen him move. He drops immediately to his knees, hugging his son as the crowd roar with approval.
He looks at him, checks him over and hugs him once again.
“Why didn’t you save me, dad?” Destructo Boy asks.
“I tried,” TBM replies sadly. “I looked high and low for you, son.”
The boy waivers.
“He said that heroes don’t exist…”
The Burned Man looks confused.
“Who said that?”
Destructo Boy’s eyes begin to close.
“But I showed him, dad.”
“Showed who, son?” He tries to rouse him for answers. “Who did you show? Who kidnapped you?”
“Foley…”
With that, DB passes out in his father’s arms – finally safe.
Only The Burned Man isn’t satisfied. He’s not happy. All emotion from seeing his son again has suddenly been stripped away.
It was replaced the moment Destructo Boy said his kidnappers name.
Foley.
It was replaced with vengeance.
The Burned Man helps his son to his feet.
Suddenly, a white light envelopes the entire ringside area when it vanishes, so have they.
Both men are gone.
Cut.
DEN OF INEQUITIES
Albert Lamplight stands behind the counter of his store, a large toothy smile on his face. That smile doesn’t leave when the door opens and in walks Sebastian Boswick.
Boswick struts up to the desk, placing his hands upon it.
“I had a feeling you’d be stopping by Mr. Boswick,” Lamplight says with a welcoming toothy grin. “How may I assist you?”
Sebastian turns his nose up.
“You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Lamplight. How’d you know I was coming?” He asks.
Albert say doesn’t say. He just continues to smile.
“Very well. I wanted to come and investigate this den of inequities. I’ve heard that you offer the men and women of Arcadia anything their hearts desire. That’s a dangerous practice.”
“Mr. Boswick,” he replies calmly. “Illumination Antiques illuminates its customers minds. If you purchase from my store, you’ll get what you truly desire. I have no control over what that might be.”
Sebastian doesn’t like that. His hands move from the counter to his hips.
“This is the problem, Mr. Lamplight. You are the problem,” he corrects himself. “I’m here to demand that you cease trading immediately. This den of inequities deals misery and disgrace to Arcadia. It must be censored.”
That brings a chuckle to ever the smiling Lamplight, who believe it or not, doesn’t stop smiling despite Boswick’s presence.
“I’m afraid that won’t be happening,” he retorts with a shrug.
Sebastian nods, taking a deep breathy sigh before walking back towards the door. He opens it as if he’s going to exit but doesn’t.
Instead, three others wearing similar attires enter.
Once they’re inside, Boswick closes the door and locks it from within.
“Allow me to introduce you to my associates,” he says with an evil stare. “This tiny little fellow here is Mr. Kleen. Mr. Kleen specialises in the dirtiest of Arcadia’s inequity. He doesn’t like germs and filth.”
Mr. Kleen suddenly runs at Albert, leaping up onto the counter and spinning with a vicious kick that catches him in the jaw. The Shopkeeper stumbles backwards, holding his mouth in shock as Boswick continues.
“This giant fellow is Tucker Goode,” he says waving him on.
Tucker storms over and grabs Lamplight, slamming his headfirst off the counter and tossing him over it towards the door. Albert lands at the feet off another Arcadian Censorship Authority member.
“And this lovely lady is Pauline Marjorie Studebaker,” he says with a sneer. “She’s having a difficult time of the month.”
PMS picks Albert Lamplight up and runs him straight through the wooden door to the Grove outside, watching as wood splinters and shatters in every which direction. The ACA funnel out of the carnage, stopping short of the Shopkeeper who remains holding his head on the floor, groaning in agony.
“You’re being censored, Mr. Lamplight,” Sebastian growls. “For we’re the ACA: For a proud, moral and most of all, Censored Arcadia.”
Flash!
Suddenly, a white light flashes just like many other times tonight and… they’re gone.
The Deathrow Championship gets defended in a deadly gauntlet here tonight as Thorpe not only has to survive five other brutal warriors but his own lung capacity will be stretched to it’s very limits. Can Thorpe survive the Death Chamber or do we have a new Deathrow Champion?
The very first Death Chamber takes place here tonight, a gauntlet match for the Deathrow Championship where you have to be the last one standing inside of the chamber to survive, all while fighting brutal competitors and a knockout gas that saps your stamina at every moment.
All six of the competitors are escorted by Meadows armed guards to a small room. A small glass and metal chamber lies in the middle, barely large enough for two competitors to fight inside as four chairs surround the structure.
Thorpe looks around at the structure, the champion ready for war as he hands off his title to one of the guards before stepping inside the structure as he waits for his first opponent.
Tuga, Nox, Escher and Gray all sit down on the chairs, Redgrave looking to as well but the guards stop him, pointing at the chamber as he’s to be the second entrant into this gauntlet. Redgrave smiles and enters the chamber, the guard swinging the door shut behind him as Thrope and Redgrave shake hands
Before the pair start beating seven shades of shit out of one another.
Heavy lefts from Thorpe, stiff rights from Jasper, both men going hell for leather already, not noticing in their brawl that gas is slowly being introduced into the chamber. Thorpe stuns Redgrave with a stiff headbutt before trying to lift him into the air for a Suplex but Redgrave’s feet clip the top of the chamber. Jasper manages to kick off, slipping behind Thorpe and grabbing him in one swift motion.
GERMAN SUPLEX INTO THE STEEL!
Thorpe’s skull bounces off the steel, his eyes glazed back into his head as he slowly stumbles up, Redgrave backing up as much as he can in this confined space before nailing CJ with a brutal Superkick. Thorpe is out on his feet as Redgrave looks to finish off his Collage but Thorpe ducks underneath the spinning elbow, delivering a hard kick to the gut
SPIKING REDGRAVE INTO THE HARD FLOOR WITH A DDT!
Both men are down as the gas begins seeping into their lungs, Thorpe coughing loudly as he backs up himself, looking to deliver some Trust to Redgrave skull but the rising Jasper dodges the knee, spinning around
AS HE FINISHES THE COLLAGE OF VIOLENCE WITH A SICKENING ROARING ELBOW TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD!
Thorpe collapses to his knees as Jasper looks to finish off the champion, lifting him up high as he looks to vanish the championship from around Thorpe. Turning to the door, a twisted grin creeps on Redgrave’s face as he rushes forward.
VANISHING…NO! Thorpe just manages to slip out, Redgrave turning around
MAMMOTH DROPKICK SENDS REDGRAVE STUMBLING FORWARD AND FLYING OUT OF THE DOOR AND THE CHAMBER!
JASPER REDGRAVE HAS BEEN ELIMINATED
The gas stops momentarily, Thorpe taking deep breaths of fresh air but his respite is short lived as Amataga Tuga rushes into the chamber, slamming the door shut and gripping Thorpe around the throat with two mammoth hands
BIEL TOSS INTO THE CHAMBER WALL!
Thorpe slams back first into the glass, it may be bullet proof but it may not be Demon proof as Thorpe may find himself exiting the chamber the hard way if Tuga has anything to say about it.
Thorpe staggering to his feet into a pair of mammoth right hands, the allready weakened Coyote rocked by the devestating strikes of Tuga as Tuga winds up both hands for an almighty sledgehammer like strike but CJ manages to dodge it. Peppering Tuga with heavy lefts and rights that barely seem to affect the Demon before a leaping knee to the jaw staggers him.
Thorpe rushes to the side of the chamber, leaping off slightly for momentum as he has that knee strike teeed up
ULUUULU! MAMMOTH HEADBUTT DROPS THORPE LIKE A SACK OF SHIT!
Thorpe is slightly busted open from that mammoth Samoan headbutt as Tuga follows up with heavy lefts and rights that leave Thorpe a bloodied, heavily breathing mess. The toll of brutality plus that knockout gas slowly sapping away the great stamina of the champion as he finds himself lifted almost effortlessly onto Tuga’s shoulders.
DEMON DROP! SAMOAN DROP INTO THE UNFORGIVING STEEL FLOOR NEARLY SNAPS CJ’S BACK IN HALF!
That has to be it but Tuga backs off, letting Thorpe get to his feet. A bloodied wounded mess of a Coyote slowly pulls himself up by the metal doors, Tuga backing up as much as he can before getting down into a crouching position, ready to punish the champion and eject him from the chamber forcibly.
SPEAR…..THORPE MOVES AS AMATAGA TUGA SPEARS HIMSELF THROUGH THE CHAMBER DOORS TO THE OUTSIDE!
AMATAGA TUGA HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!
Thorpe collapses to the floor, heavily sucking in clean air for a moment as the Demon is furious. Trying to get back into the chamber as guards hold him back, distracting everyone else as Nox grabs hold of a heavy gas cylinder to the side
AND DRIVES IT INTO THE SKULL OF THE RECOVERING THORPE!
Nox chuckles before throwing away the foreign object, kicking Thorpe back of the chamber before walking in himself as the gas begins to fill the air once more.
Thorpe is bleeding profusely now, not helped by a series of rights and lefts from Nox before he’s spun around
PARALYTIC-PLEX! THORPE GETS SNAP DRAGON’D DOWN ONTO THE COLD STEEL ONCE MORE!
Thorpe is all but done and an easy elimination but Nox is toying with his prey as he lifts the limp Thorpe up to his feet and begins to drive him down over his knee with a vicious backbreaker not once, not twice, not thrice but four, five, six, seven.
NOX GIVING THORPE SCHRODINGER’S SPINE AS HE TRIES TO SNAP IT OVER HIS KNEE!
Thorpe collapses to the ground in agony, Nox loving the agony he’s delivering here as he peels Thorpe off the ground
SURPRISE CLOTHESLINE! Thorpe explodes with a mammoth Lariat that turns Nox inside out. The Chemist staggering up into a flurry of lefts and rights before another clothesline nearly decapitates him, Thorpe peeling him up off the ground before double underhooking him, looking for the Right Thing but Nox slips out
POISON MISTER…NO! Thorpe just dodges the poison mist attempt as it stains the chamber wall but he looks up into a mammoth headbutt as his arm is twisted
GET OVER HERE! SHORT ARM CLOTHESLINE DRIVES THORPE TO THE FLOOR!
Thorpe crashes down but he barely gets a moments respite before he’s flipped over
AND LOCKED IN THE OXYGEN DEPRIVATION CHAMBER!
Nox is choking the breath out of his lungs and combined with the gas pumping inside the chamber, Thorpe may have nothing left as he looks to be slowly fading, all Nox has to do is get him to his feet and throw him out for victory. Thorpe is nearly limp
NO!
CJ’s eyes go wide as he refuses to go down, powering up as he slips out of the hold but as he gets to his feet, a stiff headbutt rocks him before both hands of Nox wrap around his throat
NOX OU…EYE POKE!
CJ Thorpe desperate here as he blinds Nox for a moment, the Chemist breaking his hold on Thorpe’s throat, staggering back
BREAK THE CHAINS! SUPPPPERKKIIICKKK!
Nox goes flying through the door as he has been eliminated!
Nox has been eliminated!
Thorpe drops to one knee, wiping the blood from his eyes as adrenaline is all that’s keeping him standing, a fact his next opponent knows far too well as Escher rushes into the chamber, not giving the champion a moments of respite
BEFORE NEARLY BREAKING HIS SKULL WITH A SICKENING LEAPING KNEE!
Thorpe collapses to the ground, Escher stalking his prey with a sickening grin as he mounts him, raining down punch after punch that opens that wound up even more, blood turning the off white shirt into crimson before Escher peels Thorpe off the ground.
The Diorama Killer locks Thorpe in a a muai thai like clutch, raining down knee after knee to the skull before letting go for a moment as he spins around
TAKING THORPE’S HEAD OFF WITH THE BLOOD RED LARIAT!
The Deathrow Champion looks spent, barely able to breath from the lack of blood and oxygen deprivation let alone fight back but again, his opponent is toying with him. Escher smiles, spreading Thorpe’s blood in his hands before drawing an intricate bullseye on the chamber door. Precious time that allows Thorpe to get to his feet
TRUST…THAN CHLOROFORM! DROP TOE HOLD INTO THE CHAMBER WALL!
Thorpe is dazed from the counter to the running knee as Escher pulls him up to his feet, wrapping both hands around his throat before managing to perch himself up onto a slight groove in the wall
LOCKING THORPE IN A MODIFED POSING DRAGON SLEEPER!
Thorpe is fighting but he’s fading fast as blood pools down his face, Escher watching him fade away but he lets go just in time, not wanting to finish off Thorpe until he completes his masterpiece. Escher lifts the groggy Thorpe up, dragging him towards the door as he places his head right in the middle of the bullseye. Harvey stares down Thorpe for a moment, trying to capture the final moment with Thorpe as Deathrow champion before rushing forward
DIORAM…NO! Thorpe rolls away as Escher nearly runs himself right through the door. Unlike Tuga though, Harvey manages to stop himself, turning around
BREAK THE MOTHER FUCKING CHAINS! THORPE SUPERKICKS ESCHER RIGHT THROUGH THAT GODDAMN DOOR!
Harvey Escher has been eliminated
And then there was one left. The Gray Man slowly rises from his seat, Thorpe staring daggers at him while daring him to fight but Gray isn’t in a hurry. Thorpe is breathing heavily, hurting, bloodied and broken. Easy prey for Aster Gray as Gray slowly walks into the chamber and Thorpe jumps him.
CJ lays into Gray with everything he has left, emptying the tank to try and survive here, to retain his championship but a single right hand rocks Thorpe
BEFORE LIFE SENDS HIM CRASHING DOWN TO THE FLOOR WITH A SPINNING SPINEBUSTER!
Thorpe staggers to his feet, barely able to stand as Gray nearly breaks his ribs with a brutal knee
AND SHOWS HIM UNWANTED KINDNESS WITH A DOUBLE UNDERHOOK DDT!
Thorpe’s blood stains the chamber floor, this match is all but done as Gray lifts him up, looking for a malicious ending to CJ Thorpe’s Deathrow Championship reign but CJ manages to slip out of the Cruficix Powerbomb, kicking Gray in the gut as he turns around
INTO THE RIGHT THING! PEDIGREE!! BUT THORPE IS SPENT!
Both men are out on the floor, Thorpe’s last gasp for survival may have been for nothing as Aster Gray is the first to his feet, pulling Thorpe up with a goozle around his throat
ALL MOTHERFUCKING GRAY! CHOKESLAM SHAKES THE CHAMBER FROM THE SHEER FORCE!
That has to be it as Gray lifts up the limp Thorpe around the back of the head, running forward to throw him through the doors but somehow CJ slips out and reverses, gripping Gray around the head
AND VAULTING HIM OUT OF THE DOOR TO RETAIN THE DEATHROW CHAMPIONSHIP!
CJ Thorpe somehow does it, completely spent, bloodied and barely concious but he has retained the Deathrow Championship against all odds in the very first Death Chamber Match.
WINNER AND STILL DEATHROW CHAMPION: CJ THORPE
BREATHE IT IN
With the match over and CJ Thorpe reunited with his Deathrow Championship, a set of hands clap almost sarcastically.
They belong to Max Meadows.
Meadows enters the chamber to find Thorpe reeling after that brutal match.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” The Warden asks with a shrug, pacing the chamber.
Thorpe shakes his head.
“Oh, we knew you’d find out,” he says with a smile. “That’s why you’re here.”
Suddenly, the chamber locks behind them.
Max turns to look at the door, his eyebrows raised.
“Your run of Deathrow is over!” Thorpe roars at him. “We’re not gonna take it anymore, Meadows.”
CJ turns to a little compartment, kicking open a small grate. He reaches inside but doesn’t find what he’s looking for.
Confused, he turns around to face Max whilst kneeling.
“Looking for this?” Meadows enquires, a gas mask in his hand. Thorpe looks immediately shocked.
How did he know it was there?
Then, it dawns on him.
Nox.
Noxious green gas suddenly starts filling the chamber. Max quickly puts the gasmask on, chuckling to himself as Thorpe begins to choke to death on the toxic fumes.
Meanwhile, Nox pushes his face up against the glass from the outside.
“You thought he worked for you?” The Warden bellows with a big laugh. “Nox has been feeding me information from the very start, Thorpe.”
As the Deathrow Champion chokes, Jasper Redgrave can be heard banging violently on the door, trying to open it. Harvey Escher and Nox restrain him, pulling him back.
Just then, something thunders.
It’s footsteps.
A ginormous hulk of a figure appears from no-where, looking like Frankenstein’s monster himself and barrelling through Nox, Jasper Redgrave and Harvey Escher. He sends them sprawling like bowling pins.
He walks up to the chamber door and grabs it, shaking it violently until he rips it from its fucking hinges.
The gas begins escaping into the room, higher and higher, making everyone cough and splutter – though the concentration in this space certainly won’t kill them.
Meadows looks to the man, ripping the mask off his face.
“Victor?” He says sternly. “Victor Doom?”
Doom grabs him by the throat.
“We need to talk.”
Cut.
THE THIRD DECREE
The middle of the ring.
As fans slowly filter out of the building, Tombstone stands in the middle of the ring, his head lowered.
By the time Olympus empties, he’s alone.
But not quite.
Because walking up the steps towards him is none other than Drewitt. The Explorer enters the ring, pacing around the Ferryman.
“Where are they?” He demands to know.
Tombstone doesn’t say anything.
“All night long there’s been reports of people vanishing,” The Explorer says with frustration. “Where the fuck are they?”
Suddenly, Tombstone’s head whips up, revealing white eyes.
“By my third decree as King…”
He suddenly grabs Drewitt by the throat.
“Join me.”
Flash!
A white shockwaves erupts from Tombstone and in the haze, something happens.
Before we know it, we’re no longer in Olympus.
We’re in the Mortuary.
All night long people have been vanishing into that same flash of white light.
Tombstone looks up.
What the fuck has happened to the Ferryman and where did everyone go?
He smiles sinisterly.
Cut.