OCTOBER 11th 2021






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



The pull string of a light is pulled, illuminating a bathroom. Sigil is stood inside, looking at himself in the mirror. He’s not wearing his cape and begins to adjust his mask, as if he’s about take it off.


The light goes off.

He reaches in the dark for the string once again, pulling the light back on, only this time it flickers.

In the mirror, a figure flashes with the light – unbeknownst to Sigil.

Finally, the light comes back on.

And he’s not alone.

Malice stands zombified over his shoulder, with his head titled, snarling. The former member of War Machine looks terrifying.

Sigil turns quickly, only to be slammed forcibly into the mirror – shattering it with the impact. Malice holds him there; his powerful forearm of rotting flesh having lifted The Collector off the floor.

Remember me?” He growls. “Do you remember what you fucking did to me, you cunt?”

Suddenly and in the blink of an eye, Sigil has abruptly opened a portal where Malice stands, transporting him away. He falls to his knees, glass having cut his back to shreds, gasping for air.

“What the fuck is happening?” He squeezes out between desperate breaths.







The sound of waves lapping against the wall of an old boathouse. The ocean, calm, but a constant reminder to the boathouse’s inhabitants of its presence.

Here, we find Cael Gable and Israel Grimwolf, the latter peering out through a small porthole window and gazing out over the bay.

“It’s dark meharty. There’s no light to tell what’s out there.”

Grimwolf turns from the window. There’s true fear in his eyes.

“But something is…”

Grimwolf’s voice trails off into silence. The silence far too suspicious for his own liking. The lapping sounds of the waves has disappeared, leaving an eerie ambience that is only broken by the sound of dripping water.

Then a low humming, almost a chanting. The slow, ghostly sound of a Sea Shanty is heard on the breeze outside.

‘Way, haul away…
Hoist the cotton an’ sail the seas.
Way, haul away…
The Cursed Souls of Davey Jones.’

The sound of the ghostly shanty comes closer until the chanting seems to rattle the very walls of the small boathouse itself. It is a tune Grimwolf knows too well.

“That song. It’s not that of a monster from the depths at all. But …”






Two massive, hulking figures slowly limp and scrape their way into the boathouse. In Grimwolf’s eyes, there is a definite look of recognition, but the creatures that move towards him look like anything but something recognisable.

Terrifying creatures. Human-like, but not the way we know it. They look bloated, with greying skin covered in molluscs and sea creatures. Still dressed in their pirate garbs, that now hang like shreds off their zombified bodies. One drags behind it a chain holding an anchor that drags upon the ground, the other brandishes hands covered in coral.

In tandem, the two creatures point an accusing finger at the face of Israel Grimwolf.


Grimwolf shakes his head.

“You’re not taking me to the fucking locker.”

Both of Grimwolf’s ex-crewmen leap forward, one grabs him around the throat, wrapping its chain around his neck and hoisting him up off the ground by the chain. The chain is wrapped around a beam in the boathouse roof and the two zombie crewmen pull him up to the rafters, choking for his life.

But it is Gable who saves the day. A flashlight, shone into the clouded eyes of the creatures, causes them to reel backwards and Grimwolf falls from the roof to the ground. Gable pulls him, limping, and they high tail it the fuck out of the boathouse.

The two zombie pirates slowly limp their way to the door, anchor chain hanging behind them. Following slowly after their targets.

Israel Grimwolf’s crew has escaped the locker, and they’re not returning without dragging Pirate Gold with them.







The depraved SeeSaw boasts an immaculate record in the Toybox, but how will he fare inside the confines of a steel cage?

Voynich is the first to make a dash at his opponent as he attempts to take SeeSaw’s head off with a stiff lariat, but SeeSaw telegraphs the move; ducking and sending Voynich face-first into steel! Voynich stumbles back holding his face and walks straight into a side headlock – followed by the Catastrophic Collider Cacophony! An almighty bulldog from the Cackling Madcap!

SeeSaw wastes little time in climbing to his feet and begins to scale the top turnbuckle. Once there, he looks poised to throw himself through the air but stops – instead continuing his ascent to the top of the cage! He scans the ring beneath him, flapping his wings and laughing manically, before flopping forward with his arms extended like a jumbo jet.

CRUNCH! The Flight of the Ornithopter fails to connect as Voynich catches sight of his opponent at the very last; sending his knees crushing into the solar plexus of Mr Make Believe! SeeSaw’s ribs may well be shattered to pieces by that high-impact reversal! The Best Kept Secret sees his opportunity to put this one to bed, swiftly pulling SeeSaw up by his red hair.

Voynich tucks SeeSaw’s under his arm hoisting him up vertically. He’s going for the Brainbuster – MONOLITH CONNECTS! SeeSaw comes crashing down across the back of his neck and is seemingly out cold! The Toybox King started brightly in this one any sign of lights has been turned out completely now! Voynich climbs through the cage door and instructs the referee to slam it shut behind him!

There was no secret about who got the better of the steel cage tonight as Voynich emerges victorious.








Earlier Today.

We find ourselves outside the Slaughterhouse, greeted by the sound of Nigel Royal’s voice.

“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you lot here and now.”

His smug look of confidence is met with a lukewarm response by the trio he’s gathered.

Kaine Knightlord, Sir Renault, and The Impaler.

Three men you wouldn’t expect to see brought together, but stranger things have happened at the Slaughterhouse.

Nigel presses on despite the looks of confusion the three share with each other.

“It’s simple, really…in a world of monsters, you three gentlemen are extraordinary. Your skills and powers cannotand will not–go unnoticed. Your strength, cunning, and intelligence are to be admired…and admired they shall be.”

Kaine is the first to speak up, interjecting with more than a hint of skepticism.

“What is it you really want, Nigel?”

This puts a smile on Royal’s face.

“Put simply, my man, I want to form an alliance…a league, if you will.”

Renault speaks up next, less skeptical and more curious as to the nature of the proposition.

“And what, pray tell, is the purpose of what you seek?”

Royal’s smile only grows wider, latching onto the potential interest of the Last Crusader.

“I’m glad you asked, Sir Renault. I think a man of your ilk would be pleased to know I’m offering a chance to keep some particularly nasty rogues at bay. You’ve seen what that group calling themselves the bMf are capable of…and I’m looking to put an end to it.”

Something about this seems to gravitate toward Renault, but Knightlord rolls his eyes at the spiel.

“Sounds more to me like you’re looking for people to fight your battles for you, Nigel. What’s wrong, can’t get Albert Shaw to help you?”

The mention of Shaw makes Royal’s smirk go away, but before he can respond to that statement The Impaler chimes in.

“What’s in it for us, then? If you really want me to get into your business for you, you’d better have something good in return.”

Royal is quickly seeing this proposition go sideways, but he presses on all the same.

“If money is of concern to you, I can offer plenty. But perhaps, more importantly–good Lord.”

Nigel immediately stops what he’s saying, his mouth agape as he notices something off in the distance.

A familiar red, white, and blue mask. A top hat you can recognize anywhere. A hairdo that no one else would dare show off.

It’s the Forever Friends…but there’s something wrong.

Something horrible.

Because their friendship is indeed forever…imperishable, in fact.

But so too is their hunger.







Grimwolf has encountered many horrors in the deep but even the sight of Tenchu unsettles him. Who is going home in an ambulance?

Grimwolf is off like a mad pirate on rum, he’s unloading shot after shot but Tenchu’s systems are well-calibrated tonight and it easily fends off the strikes. SHOULDER TACKLE!!!! Metal crushes flesh and bone as Tenchu drives the Captain into a corner buckle.

Tenchu clinches Grimwolf, lifts him high into the air. SUPLEX ONTO THE TOP ROPE!!! Grimwolf flops to the outside. Tenchu on the top rope….HIDDEN BLADE!!!! EVADED!!! KEELHAULED!!! Grimwolf threw everything into that rolling elbow.

Grimwolf lifts Tenchu to a vertical base, he’s trying to get the robot into the Ambulance. CRACK!!! Tenchu counters and slams the door on the pirate’s hopes. Kodokushi unsheathes its blade….KILL IT WITH FIRE-BLOCKED!!!! Grimwolf’s cutlass deflects the blow. But Tenchu is quick…headbutt to Grimwolf. The Metal Shadow hoists The Pirate onto its shoulders…DEATH VALLEY DRIVER INTO THE AMBULANCE!!!!


Tenchu is heading straight to the Emergency Room after this beating.









The Mountain sits meditating in an open field. He opens his eyes as footsteps in the grass behind him attract his attention.


The fire bitch holds up a hand, flames dancing from her fingertips as Banzan rises to meet her.

“Why are you here?” Banzan asks, looking almost angered by Pyre’s arrival.

“I’m not sure. Something made me feel… compelled to come here,” She replies standing at odds with The Mountain who merely raises an eyebrow.

“As did I. Something in my soul shouted out to me, it begged me to come here. I was trying to meditate and find out why.”

Pyre pauses, letting the fire slowly die out from her fingers. She goes to ask a question but the sounds of laughter stop her. It’s not quite a laugh… but a demented giggle.

“I’ll tell you why.”

Banzan and Pyre look around themselves, taken aback by the voice. It’s familiar not only to them, but to us as well.

“Once upon a time, a girl and her friends fought a mean old queen.”

Pyre sneers, flames engulfing her arms!

“And one of her friends, her most trusted friend, wasn’t there when she needed him most.”

Banzan stands shocked, eyes wide as he realizes just who’s talking to him.

“That poor little girl ended up dying scared and alone. But she wasn’t surprised. After all, sometimes… you need an unhappy ending.”

The world flashes, fracturing as we once again see Wonderland. The zombified corpses of all of Pyre’s victims standing around her and Banzan, approaching the two of them! Pyre lashes out with flames from both hands, scorching the bodies of many of the zombies around her!


Wonderland is gone, and standing in front of Banzan and Pyre, hopping like a bunny, is Sweet Alice.



Banzan reaches out, but Pyre grabs him, pulling him away.

“Run. I can feel them, they’re closing in.”

The Red Queen rushes to flee, Banzan watching for a few moments more at Alice’s headless corpse.


We once again see Wonderland, and Alice’s head lands in her hands. She places it on her head, giving Banzan a sickening smile as her and the rest of her dead friends give chase.







Accustomed to hopping between dimensions, The Realm Walker now finds himself tethered for the first time!

Meeting in the middle for a tie-up, Two-Face instead wraps the rope around Sigil’s legs, tripping him up! He then pulls it tight around his throat, choking the life out of him! Sigil yanks on the remaining length, throwing the politician overhead. They scramble to their feet… Sigil WHIPS the burn-victim across his two faces!

Sending Two-Face reeling, Sigil loops the rope around his waist… GERMAN SUPLEX INTO THE TURNBUCKLES! ONE… TWO… KICKOUT! Sigil drags him out of the corner and practically hog-ties him – CALF CRUSHER, ON WOUNDED LEGS! Two-Face screams in pain, his hand hovering over the mat… HE BRAINS SIGIL WITH THE COWBELL! The Collector collapses, breaking the hold.

Two-Face pulls Sigil to his feet. He lassoes the rope round his neck, then slings his leg over – FLIP THE COIN! He drives him into the canvas with the overdrive. ONE… TWO… SHOULDER UP! 50/50 cusses, then heaves Sigil up again. He sets him up in the Joker driver – LADY LUCK!?

SIGIL ESCAPES! HE CHOPS HIM IN THE SIDE OF THE NECK WITH THE ROPE – MERCIFUL! WOOSH – COSMIC LEAP! Teleporting across the ring, he closes the distance… PLANESWALKER DROPKI—TWO-FACE DUCKS! He pulls him in using the rope… HEADS OR TAILS, THE SISTER ABIGAIL! Two-Face plants him facefirst into the mat. ONE… TWO… THREE!

Two-Face pulls out the rope-a-dope!








Jessie Williams has just got done getting ready to go out for the day.

He goes outside and it is perfect. A picturesque day where you feel nice and warm but never hot.

It’s perfect, almost too perfect.

Jessie enjoys the day just walking in his neighborhood until the jingle of an ice cream truck hits his ear.

Jessie can’t hide the smile caused from childhood nostalgia.

He rushes to the truck.

He’s the first in line, another perfect moment on this perfect day.

Jessie has just the treat in mind for this perfect occasion.

Jessie looks over the menu to see if they have it, he hasn’t had it in since he was a kid.

It’s there!

He has to buy it now.

He walks up to the truck grinning from ear to ear.

The vendor speaks the moment Jessie makes his way to the window of the truck.

“Hello! Can I interest you in a treaterino?”

Jessie knows that voice, he does a double take.

“Don’t look so weird, it’s just a Halloween costume!”

Jessie gives a deadpan “You serious?” look

The vendor continues to speak.

“You’re right, why am I lying to you about this? You did this to me and I can’t wait until we can have matching costumes.”

The vendor laughs sarcastically.

Jessie gulps and looks at the vendor again to make sure he’s right about what he thinks he saw.

He’s right.

What the fuck?!

It’s Sandy Rogers but he’s not himself anymore, he’s a zombie!

Jessie should have known something was up when the truck said Lucid Cream.

Sandy Rogers has returned and so has Lucid Falls!

This is the only neighborhood that can have a day this perfect.

Jessie starts running away and muttering to himself.

“I told myself I’d never be back in this neighborhood, how the fuck is he back? I got to talk to the one being I can seem to trust anymore when it comes to this side of things. I got to get to Mordecai because if this isn’t a dream, we’re all screwed.”







Sir Renault arrived in Old School Wrestling with one mission; find the holy grail and initiate a second coming.

The Holy Grail was of course The Chief, but his body is long gone.

That’s what led Renault here.

He now stands in a graveyard, somewhere in the middle of Miami. This City is where The Chief was last seen before Yahweh took his body as a vessel.

Could it be discarded here?

Lightning and thunder fill the air as rain pours down atop him. He walks through the graveyard, hoping that The Chief has been resurrected.

Weird things have been happening all over OSW, so why not?

He approaches a gravestone, only to find a figure looming behind it, looking away.

“Hello?” He questions.

There’s no reply.

He moves in closer, turning the figure around.

Only it leaps at him violently.

Like a rabid dog, it tackles him to the ground with blood red eyes, cackling madly.

It’s Phineas Moody.

Renault manages to kick him off overhead, turning around in the soaking wet dirt to see Moody on all fours, head tilted.

“What do you want, demon?”

Moody laughs, skittering quickly towards him – becoming almost immediately face to face.

It’s terrifying.

“I came to look into the eyes of God’s warrior,” he sneers, but disgustedly pulls away. “But you’re not it.”

“You followed me here?” Renault demands to know, getting slowly back to his feet.

“I’ve been following you for quite some time,” Moody admits, now kneeling in the mud. “Haven’t you felt me?”

“I’ll ask you one last time before I vanquish you, demon; what do you want?” Sir Renault says threateningly.

Phineas just cackles.

“You’re a warrior of Yahweh, are you not?” He says very gentlemanly. “I want to be vanquished, if you can.”

You’d imagine that if you could see under Renault’s mask, you’d see a smirk.

He rushes towards Moody with a knee, only The Freakshow vanishes into thin air. Renault immediately turns around in a panic, finding Phineas Moody gone.

The wind blows and with it a whisper follows.

Come one, come all, to the greatest show of all.

A flash of red eyes.

I’m waiting.

Renault snaps his head around to the whisper, but there’s nothing there.







Play with fire, and you’re gonna get burned!

Deathnote lures Cael in with a collar-and-elbow, only to kick him in the gut. He blitzes him with debilitating strikes, for which Gable has no defence; he’s a grappler! The Author of Death hoists him onto his shoulders. He’s going for the BURNING HAMMER – INTO THE FLAMES! DYING WI—CAEL HOPS DOWN!

SILENCE IS GOLDEN! He traps Deathnote in the rear naked choke. He’s fading… But a backwards headbutt rocks Gable. He feels the heat as Deathnote pushes him towards the fire… CAEL RELEASES THE HOLD! He ducks a clothesline, sprints forwards, then turns back to face him… GOLD RUSH! NO! Deathnote avoids the spear, heaving Gable up—

GATHER THY SOUL – GO TO SLEEP, CAEL! He t-t-teeters on the edge of the inferno, singing the hairs on his arms… Deathnote sizes him up for a BIG BOOT, but Gable ducks it! Go-behind… GERMAN SUPLEX! Oh, shit – ya dun goofed, Deathnote! The Olympian fucking ragdolls the striker with TEN KARAT GERMANS!

The blaze has exhausted these competitors: Cael is dripping sweat; Deathnote’s hair is frizzy, its oils evaporated. They get to their feet, sucking wind. Gable hauls Deathnote’s ass into a suplex with minimal stalling. He drops him into the cutter – PUGHPLEX! Out cold, Deathnote drops a limp arm into the fire… HIS GEAR CATCHES ALIGHT!

Cael Gable walks through hellfire and brimstone!








There’s a chilling melody lingering in the background as we sweep along the floor. As the camera pans upwards, the music gets a little louder and we stop on the deranged figure of SeeSaw.

We can see now that we’re in the Toybox, and SeeSaw is dancing with glee between his various contraptions and his worktable. There’s a snap, and one of the toys that SeeSaw is working on splits clean in half.

SeeSaw cackles.

“Oh, no,” he cries out, still laughing. “Poor, poor you. You’ll need to visit SeeSaw’s magic hospital now!”

He hops with glee over to another workstation, taking the time to plop a white nurses hat on top of his mass of curls.

Just then, theres a creaking sound followed by a huge splintering crunch. SeeSaw is taken aback, his newly donned hat falling to the floor as he goes to investigate.

As SeeSaw gets to the location of the noise, he notices a gaping hole in the floor. Suddenly, from behind him, a pair of scissors flies past his right ear and lodges itself in the wall. Then another pair, and another. SeeSaw turns around and his jaw drops at the sight that greets him.

It’s a skeletal being, skin sallow and taut across the bones, hanging off around the joints, with long facial hair matted and dirty. There’s a crazed look in his eyes, and there’s something very ‘off’ about him.

“What’s the matter?” the figure asks with a slight lisp. “Cat got your tongue? Here, have mine!

And with that, the man pulls a pair of scissors holding a tongue against his chest and throws the dead, blackened lump of flesh at SeeSaw.

He suddenly remembers.

Ring of Dreams VII

With a brutal, gut-crunching snap, he cuts Rune’s tongue out in one fell snap. The Glitch tries to scream but can’t, blood spewing down his throat and into his mouth. His eyes open wide…

And within moments, the light within them fades out.

He chuckles to himself, grabbing the scissors and piercing them through the end of the tongue. He slams it into the chest of Rune, laughing.

“What am I saying? You’re dead. Only the insane have conversations with dead men.”

SeeSaw recoils in horror. RUNE is back!?







A 3 second loss can be ignored but pure submission sticks to the very soul. Will the Grandmaster tear off the Crow’s wings or will he bend the knee to the Black Hand?

The bell sounds as Corvus rushes forward, leaping up high with a huge roundhouse that Simon ducks under, grabbing the Crow’s leg as he spins him for a dragonscrew. Corvus spins out, CORVUS KICK! The Flash kick stumbles Simon back as the Crow leaps up onto Simon’s shoulders.

CUT THROAT…POWERBOMB! Simon reversed the Hurricanrana at the last second as he keeps hold of the legs, trying to lock in the Checkmate but gets only the left leg before he’s pushed off. Corvus tries to get to his feet but a huge knee to the jaw rocks him

SIMON PLEX! Simon sends him crashing to the mat with a quick Fishermans before pulling him up to his feet, gripping Corvus in a headlock before running forward. TORRE…CORVUS SLIPS OUT! The Crow sends Simon chest first into the buckles before backing up, CORVUS KICK! A second Flash Kick stuns Simon as Corvus runs to the other side of the ring before rushing forward once more.

RUNNING CORVU…SIMON MOVES AS CORVUS’S KNEE GETS STUCK IN THE ROPES! The Crow is desperately trying to get free but he can’t before Simon rushes forward, CATALAN OPENING INTO THE KNEE! Corvus collapses onto the canvas in sheer pain as Simon quickly locks in the Checkmate, The Crow trying to survive but he’s forced to utter I Quit before his knee is destroyed completely!

Simon picks up the huge victory here tonight, tearing apart the Crow and clipping his wings in the process








🎵Yo. Ho. Haul together. 🎵

The sound of singing as we see a figure pulling on a rope, raising something up in the air.

🎵Hoist the colours high. 🎵

Headlights from a car can be seen speeding down a dark road. In the car, an angry Two-Face glares out into the darkness, a message written on a page spurs him to rush home.

🎵Heave ho, thieves and beggers. 🎵

That same dark figure is seen pulling another rope, raising another form into the air.

🎵Never shall we die. 🎵

Two-Face turns onto another road, and this time we see bodies hanging from trees. Members of his crew, decked out in black and white attire, hanging from their necks. Two-Face gets out of his car and looks at one of the bodies, a look of terror on their face.

🎵Some men have died and some are alive. 🎵

The sound of singing further into the darkness draws Two-Face’s attention as the Bifurcated Politician heads down the road.

🎵And others sail on the sea with the keys to the cage. 🎵

Two-Face marches down the road following the voice. He looks as more and more of his gang are seen hanging from trees.

🎵And the Devil to pay. We lay to Fiddler’s Green. 🎵

Two-Face reaches his home, but sees nobody around. Still, the sound of singing draws Two-Face deeper into the home. You can see signs of struggles taking place. Clearly his men put up a fight, but were no match for whatever hit his residence.

🎵The bell has been raised from it’s watery grave…🎵

The voice is closer now as Two-Face marches through the home. Out of the darkness..



Two-Face crawls away from his attacker, his eyes glazed from the strike as he turns to face whatever it was that attacked him.

Who did this!? Who the fuck did this?

🎵Do you hear it’s sepulchral tone? 🎵


A zombified salty sea dog stands grimacing, steel pipe in hand!

He looks over Two-Face as he wraps a rope around the neck of Two-Face.

“I haven’t forgotten what you did.”

The scene fades as Scrimshaw begins wrestling with Two-Face out of the home.







Two weeks ago Bad Mother Fuckers cost Sandman the world championship and now he has a chance to get revenge on 2/3rds of them. Will the Dream Demon get his vengeance or will Hollywood snuff out his flames permanently?

The bell sounds as Pyre begins by rushing forward and drilling the Sandman with a leaping knee to the jaw that barely moves the Dream Demon. Both Pyre and Storm pound on Sandman with lefts and rights for a moment before he grips both of them by the skulls and tosses them across the ring.

Pyre gets to her feet right into a running hook to the gut that doubles her over before she’s lifted up high in a goozle. LIGHTNING STRIKE TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD! That staggered the Sandman as he swings around in a wild haymaker that Storm ducks under before leaping up and locking both arms around Sandman’s skull.

Pyre leaps up behind Sandman, wrapping around the Dream Demon’s throat as the Bad Mother Fuckers try to choke Sandman out but he easily grabs Pyre, tossing her aside before nearly caving Storm’s back in with a modified Spinebuster. The Sandman turns his attention to the Fire Bitch, peeling her off the mat by the hair.

FIREBALL! Pyre blinds Sandman who stumbles back into Hollywood as he drops down in the splits, NUT PUNCH! The Dream Demon is down on his knees as Pyre lays into him with Roundhouse kicks before Storm bounces off the ropes, LIGHTNING STRIKE TO…PYRE! Sandman ducked under as Hollywood nailed the Fire Bitch, Storm getting to his feet into a pair of hands around his throat. FULL FORCE TO SAND ONTO PYRE! The Dream Demon drops down for the pin on Hollywood and the easy ONE…TWO…THREE!!!

The Dream Demon gets a measure of revenge against the Bad Mother Fuckers here tonight, capitalising on a Hollywood sized mistake to make them pay for costing him the world title.








Somewhere else.

In the middle of an abandoned warehouse, CXDY paces back and forth in paranoia. Something has snapped inside him and we’re witnessing his devolution into a man that’s utterly beside himself.

Just then, and without warning, a voice sounds.

“You wanted to meet me here?” Says Corvus, who now stands in the shadows behind him.

Perfection turns to face him.

“Someone is stalking my wife,” he says solemnly. “My family.”

“And you think it’s me?” Corvus scoffs. “Why exactly would I waste my time? If I wanted your wife or family, I’d take them.”

That makes Cody grimace.

“I’m not here to blame you. I’m here to ask for your help. Someone out there is stalking my family and it’s only a matter of time before they strike,” he says earnestly, stepping forward. “You killed my best friend; this is the least you can do. You owe me.”

That surprises Corvus, who barely gets to respond before the door is damn near kicked off its hinges.

Both men turn their attention there, only to be utterly fucking shocked by who stands there.


Tyler Brooks.

CXDY and Corvus share an awkward look with each other before turning back to face Brooks.

“If it isn’t the man who killed me,” Brooks growls at Corvus.

CXDY gulps.

“And what’s this?” He asks. “A conspirator?”

Perfection shakes his head furiously, only Brooks is already on the way, leaping into action!


He looks at Corvus, who quickly throws a smoke bomb into the ground.

The smoke clears…

And he’s gone.

But… but… so is CXDY.

He took CXDY with him!







An old rivalry is renewed tonight as the Mountain fights the Beast. Can Banzan finally do what he couldn’t at Ring of Dreams and beat the unbeatable or will Helvig remain indestructible?

The bell sounds as Banzan rushes forward with incredible speed, MAGGA! He lands it out of nowhere as Helvig falls to one knee but Banzan knows that’s nowhere near enough, as he pulls Leif up to his feet, pounding down upon with lefts and rights before dropping him on the back of his head with DUKKHA!

Banzan backs up, waiting for Leif to slowly rise up once more before stampeding forward…HELVIG CATCHES THE RUNNING KNEE! Leif sneers, tossing Banzan aside before delivering a brutal running knee of his own to Banzan’s gut, the Mountain spitting out blood from impact before retailiating with a brutal headbutt.

Helvig staggers back as Banzan rears back with the Tiger Claw, just missing as Helvig sidesteps the move. Leif rattles Banzan’s skull with a vicious hook to the side of the head before hoisting the Mountain up into the air by his neck, VALKYRIE KALLAR!

That Fallaway wasn’t pretty but it was effective as the Mountain slowly gets to his feet, FRIGӦRA! Leif nearly cuts Banzan in half with that brutal Spear but he’s not done. Backing up as the Mountain slowly pulls himself up by the ropes, FRIGӦRA! Banzan looks completely done but Leif isn’t as he mounts the Mountain, drilling him with left and right forearms in the RASERI I SLAKTERIET as Banzan is out cold!

The referee quickly calls for the bell, trying to pull Helvig off the helpless Mountain. Leif just stares daggers at the ref before rolling out of the ring and heading to the back without a second look.








Luke Storm cuts a shameful figure in the backstage area.

Last week, he took part in a fire test of a weapon that should’ve been empty, but instead killed a member of his film crew.

Despite the darkness, this seems to have stirred something within him.

Something different.

Suddenly, his phone rings – he ignores it at first, eventually deciding to answer.

“Mom, not now,” he says gruffly. “It’s not the time.”

Whatever she says on the other end of that call is enough for him to hang up and immediately rush away. As if a man possessed, he heads straight for the exit.

Hours later and he’s pulling into a driveway, rushing out of his vehicle and into a house of which the front door is left ajar.

Luke scans the house as he storms through it like a frantic tornado, finally coming to a stop in the kitchen.

His mom stands by the back door, horrified.

Sat at the kitchen table is none other than Edward Newton, zombified, his long scraggly green hair having remained from when he was last seen as Nygma.

And on his lap? Scarlett Storm.

Luke halts immediately. His eyes instantly dart back and forth between his mother and his daughter.

“Did you miss me, big brother?” Edward says with an angry tone. “You did, didn’t you Scarlett?”

“Uncle Eddy, I’ve missed you so much,” she innocently replies, her arms wrapped around him.

“Let her go,” Storm demands.

Edward’s eyes look up at him, a glint of rage in them.

But he does it. He hands her off.

“I didn’t come here for her,” he announces, standing up. “I came here for you.”

Luke gulps.

“I’ve spent the best part of a year mourning you and thinking about what transpired that night; wondering if I could save you, thinking about how if only I did something differently.”

Newton chuckles to himself.

“You’re a killer,” he growls. “A stone-cold killer.

Edward doesn’t know about last week; he couldn’t. But what he says resonates with Storm, who grows in aggression.

“What do you want?” Luke barks back.

“For you to join me, big brother, The Riddler hisses. “In our very own Hollywood Hell,” he continues, before lunging at him.







The Viper alongside Bad Mother Fuckers shocked the world when he became OSW World Champion two weeks ago and now he has the first and possibly last defence here tonight. Can the Viper put down the Guv’nor or will Albert Shaw become a two time OSW Champion?

The lights go down and the Slaughterhouse falls deafly quiet. A fire suddenly ignites at the head of the ramp, spitting burning embers which crackle and pop in the air; breaking the silence.

The first few guitar licks and the opening line ‘Reach Out, Touch Faith’ follow, prompting the arrival of Viper Roberts, who appears from behind the inferno carrying a wooden stave with a snake head carved on top.

But before he can set it on fire, he gets clotheslined from behind by Albert Shaw!

Shaw pounds down on the unsuspecting Roberts, delivering a stiff uppercut before nearly shattering his jaw with a hard Big Boot, sending him down hard on the unforgiving concrete. Shaw grabs the fallen stave, holding it up high for a moment before he leans down, setting it on fire


Viper is in incredible pain as he slowly crawls forward, only stopped by a boot to the scorchmarked back. Shaw flips Roberts over, watching him scramble back in fear before rushing forward


Roberts is out of it at ringside as Shaw pulls him up to his feet, lifting him up high


That could well be it already before the damn bell rings as Shaw pulls up the dazed and barely conscious Roberts, throwing him into the ring before sliding in himself

The referee finally calls for the bell as Shaw backs up, almost begging for the Viper to get to his feet as Roberts slowly gets up to one knee


You can hear Roberts jaw break from the cheap seats as Shaw drops down for the pinfall and his second OSW World Championship










Shaw, not hearing the third slap looks up as the referee is just shaking his head. Pissed off. Albie grips the ref by the collar, screaming at him to count but the official just points at Roberts face.

And the mask peeling away from the chin.

Shaw’s eyes go wide, dropping down as he pulls the mask off Viper to reveal some random middle aged man…a Snake in Viper’s clothing.

Shaw scowls, looking all around him for the real Viper Roberts when the lights go out once more

Reach Out and Touch Faith

And when they come back on, Viper Roberts is behind Albert Shaw, World Championship in hand

The Guv’nor turns around


Shaw gets busted wide open from that gold to the dome as Roberts tosses the belt to the time keeper at ringside before lifting Shaw up to his feet and delivering a sickening knee to the open wound

Roberts delivers another pair of knees to the wound before twisting his arm behind his back and nearly taking the Guv’nors head off with a brutal short arm clothesline.

Shaw stumbles to his feet, throwing a weak right hand that Roberts easily deflects, leaping up with another knee that rocks Shaw, sending him staggered back into the corner before Roberts rushes forward

CORNER CLOTHESLINE! Shaw gets driven into the turnbuckles, stumbling right out into a kick to the gut


Shaw gets implanted into the mat, a sickening splotch of blood staining the mat where he hit as Roberts rolls him over cockily, dropping down into a lackluster cover








Roberts scowls, yelling at the referee to properly count before hooking the leg this time





Roberts looks furious, fists clenching in rage for a moment before calming himself down as he gets to his feet. Pulling the belt from his waist, he wraps one end around his fist




Roberts looks shocked as he tries to pull the belt from Shaw’s hand but Albie holds firm, looking up with pure malice


Roberts stumbles back as Shaw pulls himself up to his feet, delivering a stiff uppercut

LARIATTO! Shaw nearly decapitates Roberts with that brutal clothesline as he picks up the fallen belt


The Viper screams in pain with each blow with the snakeskin belt as Shaw unleashes all his anger out onto the Head Snake before kicking Roberts over, mounting him


Roberts looks out cold but Shaw isn’t done, picking up the belt again, dropping down to his knees as he wraps it around the Vipers throat


Roberts screams in pain once more, Shaw trying to crush his throat with the crossface as Viper’s hand is shaking up high, he could well tap out here


Shaw lets go of the hold, raising his arms high in celebration as he thinks he’s won the match and the OSW World Champion but the referee just tells Shaw that Roberts never tapped out.

The Guv’nor looks pissed, his eyes turning to the timekeeper position which is now vacant as someone whistles from the entrance way. The Timekeeper waves at Shaw, showing off his snake tattoo before vanishing backstage.


Roberts drops Shaw with that vicious punch to the bollocks, once again using the snakes to put Albie off his game.

Shaw drops to his knees as Roberts tries for that Ode to Snake once more but Shaw manages to slip out,


Shaw just throws Roberts over his head damn near into the turnbuckles as the hurting Albie Shaw gets to his feet, wiping the blood from his eyes before throwing Roberts into the ropes and tossing him up into the air on the rebound.

POP UP POWERBOMB! Shaw just nearly Powerbombed Roberts straight to hell itself but the Guv’nor’s just about done here as he backs up, looking for the killing blow

Viper Roberts slowly rises to his feet as Albert Shaw rushes forward like a freight train





Shaw takes the mysterious substance to the face, blinding him as he doesn’t notice Roberts side stepping the knee and how he crashes into the turnbuckles.

Shaw staggers out, wincing from pain and not being able to see as Roberts quickly wraps around him


Roberts drops down for the pinfall, massive smile on his face as he covers the unconscious Albie Shaw











Viper Roberts stole this victory from Albie Shaw here, having to use his snakes and every underhand tactic in the book but at the end of the day, he’s still the OSW World Champion








What a match…

What a fucking match!

Viper Roberts and Albert Shaw just tore the roof off the Slaughterhouse! They took each other to the limit for the OSW World Championship!

The two competitors are trying to recover from that grueling match at the moment, as the official brings the belt into the ring. Before the Championship can be handed over, a new figure has entered the ring.


“I’ll take that.” The Taskmaster says, grasping the gold with a tight lipped grin.

Shaw and Roberts have noticed the third man in the ring, both shaking their heads as they rise.


Roberts holds up his hands, trying to remind Simon of their previous alliance.


Simon surveys his handiwork, but both of his foes are trying to rise to their feet.

Even after that match, they aren’t done that easily.

Simon shakes his head, charging at Shaw.


Roberts is barely up on all fours, but Simon sees his opportunity.


The Taskmaster holds up the Championship, taking in the crowd. He’s out opportuned the Head Snake and the Guv’nor. Simon is here to show that he belongs in the ring with these two, and by God, he’s done it.

The Grandmaster, feeling more than a little cocky, drapes the World Championship over the Champion, patting it to remind the Champ that Simon is next up.


Oh fuck.


The man Viper Roberts invaded on just weeks ago is in the house.




The Sandman stalks around the ring, coming to stand above the OSW World Champion. His eyes never leave the gold.

Roberts and Shaw laid it all on the line in the ring. Simon thought he outsmarted them, but the real nightmare begins tonight.

Sandman is going to take back what’s his.

And heaven help whoever is in his way.






Sometime Later.

Furious knocking.

The sound of someone knocking furiously on a door is only halted when the door abruptly swings open. It’s Sigil, and he’s desperate to get the attention of the person inside – only that person hates him more than anyone else.

It’s Voynich.

“What the hell do you want?” He growls angrily – tired, as if he’s been awoken.

The Collector barges past him, into his apartment uninvited. Voynich closes the door, looking rather perplexed.

“I need your help,” he says breathlessly. “I’m being hunted by Malice. The dead have returned. I’ve tried telling you and everyone else that we’re being tormented, but no-one is listening.”

Voynich folds his arms.

“Why would anyone listen to you?” He gruffly retorts. “You’re a murderer.”


Just then, the door is kicked violently off its hinges, almost disintegrating into wood that splinters and flies across the room in every direction.

It’s Malice; he’s hunted Sigil here.

The Best Kept Secret stands to one side in shock.

Help me!” Sigil pleads.

Help you?” Voynich scoffs. “I’m with him. You murdered him in front of me; you killed him and his wife. I didn’t sign up for that and you knew it. You used me, Sigil. ”

Suddenly, Malice’s head snaps towards Voynich.

“You?” He growls angrily, reaching out to grab him by the throat. “You’re not with me, you fucking coward. I remember the part you played.”

Voynich chops down on the arms repeatedly, somehow managing to push Malice backwards. He stumbles towards Sigil, who looks at him, then back at The War Machine.

“Changed your mind yet?” Sigil asks, opening a blue portal.

The Best Kept Secret nods, rushing through it with him.

Malice tries to give chase, only the portal closes and leaves him alone in Voynich’ apartment, seething with vengeful rage.

It looks like Sigil and Voynich may need to form an uneasy alliance if they wish to survive.




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.