WARZONE #388
Ares
This weeks episode unlocks the mystery... of Ares. Meanwhile, the man himself battles Gravedigger in a Street Fight Main Event whilst Anton Savor tests himself against the World Champion.
Ares I: The Birth of War
Years Ago, Ares as a Young Boy
Dark clouds loomed overhead like watchful gods as rain drizzled across the cracked dirt floor of a training yard buried deep in the outskirts of Arcadia.
The air was cold. Metallic. Heavy with sweat and iron.
A boy—no older than twelve—stood barefoot in the mud. His fists were wrapped in bloodied cloth, knuckles raw and trembling. His chest rose and fell in jagged gasps, his back laced with fresh welts. His name was Aaron.
His father towered over him, a granite-faced man with shoulders like boulders and eyes sharp as drawn blades. His name lost to time—but his presence, unforgettable.
“Again,” the father barked, tossing a staff toward Aaron, who barely caught it in his shaking grip.
“I… I can’t,” Aaron whimpered, clutching his ribs. His voice cracked—childlike, frightened, human.
A hand cracked across his face.
The sound echoed in the yard.
“You can,” the man growled. “Because you must.”
Aaron blinked back tears, tasting blood on his tongue.
“You think Arcadia will care that you’re tired?” his father snarled, circling him like a predator. “You think war will wait for you to catch your breath?”
He stopped, kneeling low so their eyes met.
“Arcadia is a cruel place. Harder than anything I ever knew. You don’t get to be weak, son. Weakness is an invitation. For monsters. For tyrants. For death.”
Aaron stared, trembling.
“Out there,” his father gestured to the horizon beyond the yard, “you’ll be called upon to fight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in ten years. But you will go to war. And when you do—”
He grabbed Aaron’s bloodied hand and forced it into a fist.
“—you’ll be ready.”
The rain intensified.
The mud thickened.
But Aaron raised the staff.
He screamed—a primal, furious scream—and charged. He swung, blocked, parried. And when he fell, he got up. And when he bled, he wiped it with dirt and carried on.
Until the sun set.
Until the moon rose.
Until his hands were nothing but torn flesh and bone.
Still, he trained.
Still, he fought.
And from the boy called Aaron, something new began to bloom.
A seed. A name.
A legacy.
Ares.
The God of War.
Born in fire. Raised in pain.
Built not to survive Arcadia—
But to command it.
Fade to black.
Different
The room is dim, lit by a single lamp that flickers like a dying ember. The air is thick with silence, heavy with the kind of exhaustion that seeps into the bones. The battered walls hold stories of war, survival, and blood.
Gravedigger sits at a rusted kitchen table, shirtless, his broad back marred with scars both old and fresh. His hands—those once-feared, weapon-like hands—are submerged in a basin of lukewarm water. The bruises on his knuckles bloom purple and blue like wilting flowers.
Across from him, Eclipse kneels with practiced care. A towel rests over her shoulder, her touch gentle as she presses it to his wrists, soaking away the filth and pain. The only sound is the slow drip of water from his skin.
“I don’t feel right,” Gravedigger mutters, eyes fixed on the basin. “Since Ares killed me... something’s off.”
Eclipse looks up, her dark eyes scanning his face. He doesn’t meet her gaze.
“Off how?”
“Weaker,” he says through gritted teeth. “Slower. I feel... less. Like he took something when he ended me. Like a part of the monster never came back.”
She dips the cloth again, wringing it carefully. “It’s in your head,” she says, firmly but not unkind. “You came back. That’s what matters.”
He scoffs, the sound bitter. “Came back wrong. I should’ve torn him apart by now.”
Eclipse places a hand over his. “You’re still the monster. Still the ferryman. Maybe not in body—but in fire. That fire’s still burning.”
He finally looks at her—really looks.
“I need to finish this,” he says, voice low and cold. “Ares, first. Then Tombstone. One ends my story, the other writes it. Either way, it’s got to be done.”
Eclipse stands, brushing his hair gently back from his forehead. “Then we finish it,” she says. “Together. At Ring of Dreams.”
Gravedigger nods, slowly rising from the chair. He’s not as fast as he once was. Not as strong. But Eclipse steadies him with one arm, the two of them forming a silhouette in the flickering light—cracked, bruised, but unbroken.
Whatever was coming, they’d face it.
Together.
Cut.
Ignorance is Bliss
Destructo is happy.
Overly happy. More happy than he’s been in a long, long time. Euphoric even.
We find Destructo looking at himself in a mirror in some forgotten corner of Arcadia’s dwelling districts. His appearance, bedraggled. His eyes sunken through lack of sleep.
But he laughs uncontrollably as he studies the face that laughs back from the mirror.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Destructo has lost it. After everything he’s been through at the hands of Nox, something about seeing Nox last week and having him slip away has broken him.
MATT RUBY: I’m not sure. The cheese slipped off the cracker before Nox slipped away. He had Nox dead to rites, and something stopped him. Now… whatever the hell this is.
But what this is, is a man that looks far too happy given his circumstances.
Happy enough to end it all.
Picking up a razor blade from the vanity spanned before him, he begins to slice at his wrist. He laughs uncontrollably as the sweet release of blood starts to drip to the floor.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: What the hell?! This is not happiness… This is…
MATT RUBY: A broken man at the end of his rope. Alone, in a room, where nobody will find him until it’s too late.
But as the blade slices deeper, the face in the mirror falls. Before Destructo can go too far, Something stops him.
Euphoria dies before our very gaze. Replaced with the sunken eyes, the pain and agony that we have come to know. We see the loss creep back over him.
His fist clenches. He looks at the blade in his hand. He shakes his head.
“No” he says. “Not me…”
He falls against the mirror, cracking it. Steadying himself on the vanity, he stands woozily back to his feet.
“This blade will taste blood, but not mine.”
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Thank Zeus he came to his senses.
MATT RUBY: I’m not sure it was him coming to his senses as much as whatever he inhaled last week wearing off. Only the dastardly mind of Nox knows what he has in store for Destructo next.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: A wiser man would walk away, but that’s not an option for Destructo. Is he walking right into a trap?
Cut.
Origins: Carnage
Many Years Ago.
A trapeze artist stands atop of a tight rope, the net beneath her dropped away for her most death defying stunt. The crowd of onlookers cheer out in admiration as the artist steps across the rope and begins her routine. Flips, turns, twirls, and more as she flies gracefully through the air as though she were dancing on the wind.
Snap.
Gasp.
Crack.
The crowd's cheers turn to screams of horror, the string snapping beneath the performer's feet causing her to plummet ten, twenty, thirty feet onto the unforgiving ground below, her body crumpling unnaturally as it lands with a sickening thud. Zephyr looks on, tears flowing down his face. A young Klaus stares on, a knife clutched tightly in his palm.
Flash.
The human cannonball prepares for his act, slipping deep into the cannon and calling for the fuse to be lit! Klaus Way, now a performer, brings a lighter to the fuse, watching it sizzle away as the crowd watches in anticipation. They hold their breath, the cannon rises up to aim for its target when the gunpowder goes off.
BOOM!
Splatter.
The human cannonball collides with a wall, missing it's mark, a cloud of blood and viscera accompanying its failure.
Flash.
A strongman struggles for breath beneath a weight placed on his throat.
Flash.
The bearded lady is found with her throat slit, a hasty suicide note left next to a pool of blood.
Flash.
We see scene upon scene of butchered freaks, every last one meeting their fate in Klaus' footsteps, a thousand yard stare on the boy's face, one that slowly becomes accompanied by a wry smile with every last body.
"Roll up, roll up."
Cut.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: We have a big non-title matchup here as a week before he defends in a Triple Threat, the OSW World Champion fights off against a former ally in Anton Savor.
MATT RUBY: This should be nothing but a warmup for Graves here. Savor's about to get served well done like one of his mediocre dishes.
The bell sounds as Graves rushes forward, taking Nero by surprise with a huge Lariat that nearly turns the smaller man inside out. Savor staggers to his feet into a flurry of lefts and rights before he's thrown to the ropes, but Nero manages to avoid the Spinebuster attempt on the rebound. Landing on his feet behind Graves
CREME BRULEE! Superkick to the back of the head rocks Ezekiel before he's taken down from behind and trapped in a pinning cradle. Demi Sky sliding in to count
ONE
..........
TW...GRAVES QUICKLY KICKS OUT
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Savor trying to use his technical prowess against the bigger man here but that may not last long.
Both men get to their feet as Savor starts swinging, a rapid fire set of chops barely glancing off the bigger man before Savor turns around but Graves catches the elbow. Tossing Savor away before grabbing him
AND NEARLY DRIVING HIM THROUGH THE CANVAS WITH THE SPINEBUSTER!
Graves cracks his neck, before lifting Savor up off the mat
MATT RUBY: GULLOTINE CHOKE. THAT SNEAK SAVOR TRYING TO STEAL IT HERE. But that's as weak as the flavor's in his stew as Graves breaks the hold with ease.
Graves easily breaks the Gullotine, lifting Savor up onto his shoulders and driving him down with a ring shaking Powerslam. The Reverend calls for the end, lifting Savor up
GOOZLE
THE FINAL JUDGEMENT! Chokeslam nearly breaks Savor in half as he drops down, hooking the leg as Demi Sky begins to count
ONE
............
TWO
............
THREE!!!
MATT RUBY: Told ya BB, The World Champion just made an emphatic statement on what's going to happen at Ring of Dreams
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: He looked very impressive here but he has his biggest test yet in two incredibly dangerous monsters next week.
Looking for Lucien
Not long after the bell rings, a few members of the Disciples of Christ walk down the ramp towards the ring. The Reverend sits on the middle rope, inviting them to enter the squared circle, which they do.
MATT RUBY: Hopefully their search for Lucien has been successful. We need some good news for a change.
"Have you found him?" Ezekiel asks. His followers simply shake their heads in response.
"We're looking just about everywhere, Reverend," one of them says. "However, we can't find a single trace of Lucien or where Nero's hiding him."
We flash cut to a dwelling in the Slums, where a small group of Disciples are ransacking the place. Furniture and other assorted potpourri fly all over the place as the owners can't do anything but watch on in terror.
Ultimately, they find nothing.
We flash cut again to Agora, where multiple vendor's stands are being dismantled before the merchants' watching eyes. Merchandise is destroyed as they search for any sign of a secret entrance within the stands.
However, they once again can't find anything.
A third flash cut occurs now, this time the Disciples are backstage rummaging through Nero's locker. They throw the contents within onto the floor and feel alongside the metallic walls, searching for a hidden lever of some kind.
Nothing.
We flash cut back to the ring. The Apostle is pacing around the ring at the news, plotting his next move.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Nero's covered his tracks very well from the sounds of things. If the Harbinger's fellowship can't find a clue as to where he could be, then the Cyberhound could have Lucien anywhere in Arcadia.
MATT RUBY: Why go to these lengths just to torment a man of God though? What sort of "truth" could he possibly be hiding that justifies kidnapping and threatening to kill his most trusted advisor?
Suddenly, Ezekiel stops pacing as he comes to a realization. He turns to his Disciples with a raised eyebrow.
"He has a match later on tonight, correct?" Ezekiel asks. His followers nod in response, causing Graves to smile.
"Then we'll strike him after his battle. Gather the men backstage; we can't pass up an opportunity like this."
The group of them exit the ring and begin to walk out of the ringside area.
Cut.
Answers, II
Previously Recorded.
A cold, humming silence fills a dark room.
Sterile lights buzz overhead, casting long, sharp shadows over stainless steel. On the slab between them lies the body—still, intact, unmistakable.
C.J. Thorpe.
A small IV juts from the corpse’s arm, hooked to a machine pulsing with a slow rhythm. A screen flickers beside it, numbers and patterns scrolling like whispers.
The same man from last week, shrouded in shadow stands in front of the screen trying to make heads or tails of it.
His hand hovers over the readout. His eyes don’t blink.
“…This can’t be right.” He stammers, he doesn’t sound like a man who is often shocked.
The woman says nothing, lurking in the corner.
He scrolls. Checks again. A breath escapes through his teeth.
“You weren’t lying,” he says finally. “I doubted…”
“No,” she replies. Calm. Certain. “I didn’t.”
He turns, eyes searching her face for a crack. There isn’t one.
“What I told you,” she says, “was just enough. The rest… that’s on you. You know why I chose you.”
He looks back at the corpse. The IV. The readout. Everything.
And then—
“I know just what to do, just when to give the world answers.”
He steps back from the table. The woman doesn’t move.
“I know exactly when to say it.”
His voice isn’t loud. But the weight in it settles across the room like a closing door.
The machine beeps once more.
Cut.
Delving Deeper
"Narcissa!"
The voice of Harold Attano is ragged, desperate. Arcadia's resident Ghost yells in frustration as he slams against a locked door, somehow having found his way to the door of Narcissa's home. He goes to kick in the door when another voice calls out to him from the shadows.
"I knew you'd be here," whisper Night. His voice is steeped in rage, a festering anger that's only seemed to grow since Hounds. "You won't get revenge on her for telling me the truth, Harry. I told her you were coming, I know how you work."
"What truth?" Attano almost begs as he asks the question, his words dripping with not anger, but sadness. Frustration mounting as he looks for his former protégé. "Please, I just want to talk."
"Talk?" Night's voice echoes from another darkened corner on the street, seemingly bouncing from place to place as he speaks. "The time for talk is gone, Harry. Your words are as empty as your soul, as devoid of humanity as the man who speaks them."
"Humanity?" Harold finally scowls, bearing his teeth. "I fought for you, I bled for you."
"And I bled for you," Night shoots back, his voice growing closer with every word. "You were my friend!"
"I still am-"
"NO!"
The Enigma shakes his head, tears rolling down his face as he finally walks into the light. "Don't you fucking say that. Don't you fucking lie to me again."
He turns away, Attano stunned speechless. There's an uncomfortable silence as Night walks away.
A silence that remains unbroken as we fade to black.
Cut.
MATT RUBY: I am so amped, BB. Up next, we get to see the model wife with a model body! I always get so excited to see Narcissa compete!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Yeah... Narcissa is a former OSW Champion, and she’s going up against the Hero Arcadian, Captain Arcadia!
Referee Demi Sky calls for the bell, and we’re underway as the Hero of the People attempts to rush Narcissa.
UPRISING!
Only to be caught with a Leaping Bicycle Knee Strike, stunning the Hero on his feet. Narcissa steps back...
UPRISING, IN REPEAT FASHION!
Knee Strike - DODGED BY ARCADIA - who pulls The Fashionista in close!
THE LAST LINE!
Suddenly, the crowd erupts with booing, hissing, and jeering as the Sunshine Club surrounds the ringside area, as Arcadia gains the upper hand and heads to the top rope!
STAR SPANGLED SPLASH!
Frog Splash – INTO THE WAITING ARMS OF MISTER SMILE, WHO DELIVERS A RING SHAKING, RUNNING POWERSLAM!
MATT RUBY: TURN THAT FROWN UPSIDE DOWN TO THE CAPTAIN!
Mr. Smile tosses the dazed and recovering Hera on top of the Downed Arcadia before sliding out of the ring!
As Demi Sky took her eye off the ball, distracted by the rest of the Sunshine Club, she turned to see the cover and counts!
ONE!
...
...
TWO!
...
...
THREE!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: This group of yahoos just cost Captain Arcadia the match!
MATT RUBY: And I couldn’t be happier, I love watching Narcissa get her hand raised in victory! This could truly be Rainy Days for Captain Arcadia!
Rainy Days, II
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: That damn Mr. Smile demolished Captain Arcadia with that Arcadia’s Brightest Slam!
MATT RUBY: Is anyone surprised? The idiot called them out last week basically.
Captain Arcadia lies motionless, surrounded.
Mister Smile grins in the corner while Miss Joy pirouettes across his spine. Mister Cheerful pulls Cap’s fingers back to sickening angles while Mister Chipper claps off-beat, each slam of his heel against the mat punctuating the violence like a nursery rhyme gone wrong.
And in the center stands Mister Sunshine, microphone to lips, smiling like salvation.
“Poor little Cap. All heart, no help. You thought you could stop the Sunshine with nothing but that punch-drunk pride.”
He kneels beside Arcadia, brushing his hair back like a father consoling a child.
“You think pain makes you stronger. That scars earn you glory. But heroes like you don’t rise… they rust. And rainy days? They never end, Cap. Not when you do it alone.”
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: I hate to admit it, but Sunshine’s not wrong. Cap is drowning.
MATT RUBY: He’s not just drowning—he’s getting waterboarded by clowns.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Wait… who’s that coming out!?
MATT RUBY: It’s Anton Savor!
Anton Savor storms the ramp, steel tray in hand.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: That’s not a save. That’s a recipe for disaster.
MATT RUBY: Someone check if he poisoned the tray.
Savor slides in, smashing Chipper’s face first. Cheerful eats an elbow. Joy bails. Sunshine only laughs, ducking through the ropes like this was part of the plan.
Savor lifts Cap—then slaps him across the face.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: What the hell?
“They’re going to gut us at Ring of Dreams.” Savor growls at Cap. “I told you, and you won’t listen.”
Cap seethes. Then… nods. Savor holds out his hand.
“I’m gonna have to make a deal with the devil, I think.” Cap says, frowning.
They shake—bitter, reluctant.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: There’s strength in numbers, has Captain Arcadia finally realized that?
MATT RUBY: He’s linked up with the best.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Will Savor betray Cap once he gets the information he’s after.
MATT RUBY: Undoubtedly, BB.
Lipstick
Narcissa is backstage after her match, walking the halls that lead to her locker room. She passes by her security, opening the door to her personal sanctuary.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Nobody can ever say Narcissa Balenciaga doesn’t cover her back. Not everybody surrounds themselves with personal security.
MATT RUBY: Nothing is too much for the queen. There’s always somebody trying to topple her, she’s just smarter than them.
Flicking on the lightswitch to her room, she’s busy applying her lipstick when the light flickers then floods into the room. Revealing before her that she is not alone.
Gemini stands before her, burrowing away through Narcissa’s personal supply of make-up. She turns, smiling, holding an item.
A tube of lipstick, identical to that which Narcissa is half-way through applying to her own lips.
“It’s such a… distinctive shade.” Gemini states simply. She brings the lipstick to her face, not to apply it but to smell it. “And a distinctive scent.”
After gathering herself from her intrusion, Narcissa almost doesn’t seem fazed.
“How in Arcadia did you get in here? I’m almost impressed. Somebody’s going to get fired though.”
She smirks, but Gemini’s face turns cold.
“Cut the crap, Narcissa. You’ve got some explaining to do.”
Narcissa’s smirk doesn’t fade.
“I don’t have to explain anything to the likes of you. I believe you’re the one that has some explaining to do. And I plan on beating an explanation out of you.”
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Narcissa was responsible for destroying Gemini’s dressing room last week, and the message on the mirror.
MATT RUBY: But what is it that Gemini needs to explain? Not that I’m complaining about a bit of girl on girl action.
Narcissa strides over to Gemini, and slaps her right across the cheek without so much as another word of warning. Gemini looks stunned, ready to retaliate, when Narcissa grabs her by the cheek. Her nails dig into Gemini’s flesh ash she pulls herself close to whisper into her ear.
“I know what you did. Soon, all of Arcadia will too. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.” She laughs, pushing Gemini away. “But I’d love to see you try.”
Gemini backs away for a moment, thinking. There’s clearly much behind the eyes that she is pondering. Eventually, she draws herself to a conclusion.
A conclusion that steadies herself. She finds her confidence.
“You’re full of shit, Narcissa. Get out of my head.” She pushes past Narcissa, towards the door but turns on her heels. “At Ring of Dreams, I’m going to make sure that whatever games you’re playing stay silent.”
Narcissa blows her a sarcastic kiss.
“Oh, I don’t plan on staying silent at all.”
Cut.
Dangerous
The double doors groan open as Felix Foley steps inside, his usual smile replaced by something more cautious—something closer to fear. Two armored Sovereign Guards slam the doors behind him and remain, stoic and silent, on either side. The flickering firelight dances across the polished obsidian floor.
At the far end of the chamber, atop a dais of smooth, cold marble, sits Zeus.
No longer the broken husk from the hospital bed, no longer the slumbering Baron of myth and machine—he is dressed in a regal black and gold robe, standing tall, proud... furious. His eyes burn like stormclouds waiting to split the sky.
Foley opens his mouth to speak—
“Silence.”
Zeus’ voice cuts like a blade through flesh. Foley freezes.
“I summoned you,” Zeus says, descending the steps slowly, “not to hear your lies. Not to be serenaded with the forked tongue of a clown who thinks pain is a performance.”
Foley opens his mouth again, instinctively—
“Shut. Your. Mouth.”
The walls seem to shake with the weight of the command.
Zeus approaches, stopping inches from Foley’s face. He doesn’t need to yell anymore—his whisper is thunder.
“I know what you did, Felix. I know that you set the charges beneath the House of Sovereigns. I know that you tried to kill me.”
Foley swallows hard. Even Scissors, in the back of his mind, stays quiet.
“You signed your own death warrant,” Zeus continues. “And make no mistake—you will pay for it.”
Foley goes to speak again, but Zeus raises a single finger.
“Not today. Not while you wear that other skin. Scissors is a danger to us all, and I know you didn’t bring him into this war by choice. But when he’s gone… when you’re alone with your guilt, with no monster to hide behind…”
Zeus leans in close, his breath hot and venomous.
“We will meet. And your reckoning will be righteous.”
He pulls back and snaps his fingers.
The guards step forward. Foley, pale and trembling, nods once and turns to leave without another word.
As the doors shut behind him with a thunderous finality, Zeus stares into the fire, eyes sharp as blades.
Cut.
Ares II: Loyal to a Fault
The room was dim, lit only by the flicker of a dying hearth and the pale light of Arcadia’s fractured light bleeding through cracked windows. The air stank of old iron, sweat, and impending death.
Aaron sat at the edge of a cot, older now. Broader. Hardened. His once-youthful face was sculpted into something carved from war itself—jaw square, eyes sharp, body scarred and thick with muscle. A weapon in human form. A storm barely contained.
But now, that storm knelt.
Beside the crumbling man who had forged it.
His father lay beneath a threadbare blanket, sunken eyes searching Aaron’s face with feverish urgency. His body was frail—nothing like the immovable stone that once towered over training yards and barked through thunder. He coughed violently, each breath a gamble with the void.
“Aaron…” he rasped, reaching out a trembling, calloused hand.
Aaron grasped it with both of his. For all his strength, his hands were gentle.
“You remember what I told you,” his father wheezed. “Arcadia’s a place of predators. You need power to survive. Protection.”
Aaron nodded.
“I’ve made myself strong. That’s not enough.” The old man’s eyes sharpened with one final fire. “Strength alone draws the bullet first. You need purpose. A shield. Something the wolves won’t bite.”
Aaron leaned in, listening.
“There’s a boy,” the father whispered. “The Baron’s son. They call him Zeus.”
Aaron blinked. He’d heard the name. Everyone had.
“You find him,” his father continued, breath shallow. “You befriend him. Protect him. Serve him. Never… never betray him. Not for anything. You understand?”
Aaron’s jaw clenched. “Why him?”
“Because he’ll rise,” the old man coughed, blood flecking his lips. “And when he does, you’ll rise with him. Stay close. Be his sword. His shield. His loyal shadow.”
He gripped Aaron’s hand harder, shaking with the effort.
“That’s how you survive, Aaron. That’s how you thrive. Loyalty. To. A. Fault.”
Aaron lowered his head. “I swear it.”
Silence fell. A stillness.
His father exhaled one last time, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Gone.
Aaron rose. No tears. No tremble. Just the slow cracking of his knuckles, like thunder in the distance.
He turned toward the door.
Time to find Zeus.
And become the thing Arcadia had forged him to be.
Fade to black.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: We have a big matchup here for the final Warzone before Ring of Dreams but wait...what the hell are Ezekiel and the Disciples of Christ doing out here?
MATT RUBY: Hey that bastard reboot kidnapped his right hand man, Graves is just out here to ensure he gets answers.
The bell sounds as Nero eyes down Graves, not taking his eyes off the Reverend who merely gestures behind the Reboot. Nero turns to see an onrushing Sunshine
'CATCH ME' Rib Crushing Crossbody takes down Nero out of nowhere, Sunshine all smiles as he pulls Nero up, delivering a few hard knees to the same ribs before lifting him up onto his shoulders and beginning to spin.
THE DIZZY... NO! Nero manages to slip out, rolling backwards before leaping up
FIREWALL! SUPERKICK TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD!
Sunshine gets dropped to the mat as Nero heads up top, turning around as he looks right into the eyes of Graves once more.
MATT RUBY: And there he goes hesitating again. I told you BB, the good Reverend is all in Nero's head right now, I love it.
Nero scowls before leaping off
CRASH OVERRIDE...MOONSAULT HITS THE MAT AS NOBODY WAS HOME! The hesitation from Nero allowed Sunshine to easily move out of the way.
Nero staggers to his feet into Sunshine's clutches again who begins spinning and spinning before slamming him down to the canvas with the Samoan Drop
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Nero plays the Dizzy Game after all as this may be the beginning of the end for Nero here.
Nero staggers to his feet into a Full Nelson by Sunshine but before he's lifted up, Nero manages to slip out thanks to a jaw breaker. Sunshine staggered as Nero rushes to the ropes
PACKET STORM! Springboard Cutter takes Sunshine down, Nero hooking the leg as Cole Holt slides down to count
ONE
...............
TWO
...............
.................
THREE!!!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: And Nero picks up the big victory out of nowhere, but he very nearly didn't thanks to Graves and his Disciples of Christ.
MATT RUBY: Hey all they were doing was spectating like everyone else, it's not the champs fault that Nero couldn't focus on his opponent until the very end.
Devine Justice
Not a moment after the bell is rung, Ezekiel Graves slides into the ring, with his Disciples encircling the squared circle. Sunshine is allowed to make a quick getaway through the crowd. Nero, ever undaunted, stands upright and braces himself for a fight.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Well, the Reverend said he was going after the Cyberhound earlier tonight, and it looks like he's making good on that promise.
MATT RUBY: Tear him apart, Zeke! Show him what happens when you get on the wrong side of the Lord!
The Harbinger stares the Hacker down with disdain and unadulterated rage in his eyes. The Red Reboot, despite being exhausted from his earlier fight, matches his gaze with the glowing lenses on his helmet.
"This is your only warning," Ezekiel says through barred teeth. "Return Lucien to me unharmed, or suffer the wrath of God." Nero laughs in response.
"Not until you admit to the people of Arcadia that you're a fraud," the Rogue Code responds. "The truth will come out one way or another, and if I have to kill your right hand man to get you to spill it, I will."
Ezekiel's fist tightens as those words are uttered. Consumed by righteous anger, he goozles Nero and hoists him up high!
MATT RUBY: HE'S GOING TO PLANT HIM WITH THE FINAL JUDGEMENT!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Not so fast, Ruby! The Cyberhound just locked in a guillotine choke!
Ezekiel lets go of the chokehold as the Hacker locks in one of his own. The Red Reboot keeps the hold locked in until Ezekiel falls to his knees. At that point the Disciples rush to their leader's aid, forcing Nero to release the submission.
They attempt to chase after their adversary, but he escapes through the crowd, who defend him from the oncoming horde. Failing to capture their foe, they turn back to help the Purifier back to his feet. With a cough, he looks out to the crowd with pure anger.
"At Ring of Dreams," The Apostle begins, "I will free Lucien from your devilish grasp and end you!"
"No," the Rogue Code replies, "I will force you to admit the truth to all those you deceived and ensure you're never preaching your lies ever again!"
Their words hang in the air for some time as the Cyberhound makes his exit from Olympus.
Cut.
Ashes of the Fang
The candles burn low. The Dragon Princess Ayame kneels at the heart of the grove, surrounded by flickering flames.
Her mask clings to her face—worn, sacred, hers. Each breath is measured.This ritual is hers alone.
Then—A crack of branches. A rustle through the brush.
A twitchy, strung-out junkie stumbles into the clearing. He doesn’t belong. Not here. Not in this place.
“She… she said you’d be out here. Paid me to lead her close. I didn’t know—it’d be like this…”
Ayame rises without a word. She already knows. Eclipse steps from the shadows.
A torch in hand. That wicked grin already forming.
“Look at you—still playing priestess. Still hiding behind that little totem like it matters.”
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
“Why? Because it’s sacred?”
Eclipse smirks.
“Nothing’s sacred to fire.”
She lunges—quick and cruel. The torch lashes forward. Ayame turns—too late.
WHOOSH.
Flames erupt.
The torch strikes the mask. It catches.Fast. Violent. Orange light screams across her face.
Ayame tears it free, hurling it to the ground. But it’s too late. The fire consumes it.
The mask blackens… and is gone.
She stares into the blaze. Her chest heaves. Her fingers tremble. Eclipse leans in, voice low and cruel.
“Now what’s left of you… little fang?”
Ayame doesn’t blink. Her voice is soft—but it slices.
“At Ring of Dreams… I set you ablaze.”
Conclusion: Revenge
The Circus.
Ajax and Damien Solus patrol the grounds, the freaks and showmen having gone to bed for the night, leaving only the two who rebelled to keep watch.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: The Circus, huh? We haven't been here since Ajax and Damien turned on Klaus!
MATT RUBY: They bit the hand that fed them, BB. But what do you expect from moronic freaks like them?
"Freedom, comrade... Does not feel free." Ajax begins, sighing. "Not when we must fear Klaus' return."
"Our friends are free," Damien replies. "The pain of protecting them is nothing like the pain of subjugation."
"Roll up, roll up!"
The words echo through the Circus like a gunshot, Ajax and Solus immediately on guard as they scan the area.
"Show yourself," Solus demands, spitting his words like venom.
"So we may break you," Ajax adds, cracking his knuckles.
CRRRRRRRRRRRACK!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: BY GOD IT'S KLAUS WAY! THAT SICKO HAS A BULLWHIP!
MATT RUBY: Ajax caught that across the back! Now that's how you run a freak show!
The whip welts Ajax's back, the strongman immediately curling into a ball at the familiar feeling of Milo Way's whip. The Adonis looks almost meek as another lash breaks his skin! Damien throws himself in the way, the next crack of the whip raining down like thunder upon his skin, welts forming before our very eyes.
"Give me the pain! Give me the pain!" Solus shrieks almost fanatically, sacrificing himself for Ajax.
"Oh, I'll give you pain," Klaus finally says. "At Ring of Dreams I'll give you all that and more, you traitorous bastards."
CRACK!
Another lash finally brings Solus to his knees, Klaus relenting on his assault as he stands over his former freaks, a scowl on his face. "This is just the opening act, boys. In just a few short days... We'll have the grand finale."
CRACK!
Damien finally collapses in a heap, his chest a menagerie of blood and broken skin as Klaus begins to walk away, a wry smile on his face.
"Roll up, roll up. I have quite the show for you."
Cut.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: These two men share similar values and ideals, but tonight Perseus meets Nobody.
MATT RUBY: Idiots the both of them.
The bell rings and Jackson Cade stands tall, fists raised, eyes locked on Harold Attano—who moves with a slow, deliberate calm. The grizzled old warrior circles, sizing up the younger man.
They collide in the center—Cade grabs a waistlock, but Harold breaks it with a sharp elbow to the temple, then pulls Cade in with a clinch—KNEE! KNEE! ELBOW!
Cade stumbles back as Harold drives a boot to the gut and hooks him for a snap suplex.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Harold’s been through more wars than most of us have birthdays.
MATT RUBY: You think that’s an advantage?
Cade springs up, ducks a lariat, rebounds—BREACH AND CLEAR! THE SLINGBLADE CUTS HAROLD DOWN.
Cade mounts, raining forearms before dragging Harold up—MASTERKEY!
ONE…
…
…
TWO…
…
…
KICK OUT!
Cade grabs the arm, twisting into THREAT CONTAINMENT!
Harold grits through the Kimura Lock, stomping to the ropes—but Cade pulls him back down! Harold shifts, powers to his knees—and headbutts Cade straight in the jaw! The grip breaks.
MATT RUBY: That’s the difference-maker. Veteran brutality.
Harold hauls Cade up…
BRAINBUSTER! NO! CADE SLIDES BEHIND—INCENDIARY ROUND! THE BULLHAMMER ELBOW DROPS ATTANO!
Cade backs up, leaping up to the top rope.
SCREAMING EAGLE! MACHO MAN ELBOW DROP!
ONE…
…
…
TWO…
…
…
THREE!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Cade picks up the win in a hard-fought battle.
MATT RUBY: Harold gave him hell—but I guess experience doesn’t beat out youth.
Revenge is Bliss
In the laboratory where his creations come to fruition, we find Nox. An apparatus before him steadily drips one green liquid into a beaker of black.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: I shudder to think exactly what Nox is creating. What dangers lie within that contraption?
MATT RUBY: And who is he planning on using it on? Well, that may be easier to answer.
Without warning, there is an explosion in the corner of the laboratory. The door is kicked off its hinges and Destructo bursts through the smoke into the room.
“You came close, Nox.” He bellows across the room. “But I’m stronger than you thought. For a smart guy, you’re pretty fucking stupid.”
Destructo charges at Nox, but the Chemist tosses a vial to the ground which shatters at Destructo’s feet.
Gas bursts forth into the air, and at once, Destructo begins choking.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Fools rush in, and Nox was ready for him with whatever is in that vial.
Nox laughs his wheezing laugh, but it’s cut short as Destructo puts on his own gasmask. He draws a deep breath.
“And I’m not as fucking stupid as you think I am.”
He punches Nox right in the face, sending the Chemist sprawling backwards into a collection of science equipment. Destructo grabs Nox by the scruff of his neck and pulls him back to his feet.
“You don’t seem to have the concept in your egotistical mind that one should not piss off somebody if you’ve killed both of their parents.” He punches the face again, slamming him into a wall. “You see… I’ve got nothing to fucking lose thanks to you.”
He grabs at the mask of Nox, slicing the tubes that connect to the breather with a familiar blade. From within, Nox gasps for air. The gas from his own vial now fills his lungs and Nox falls to the ground, collapsing into a twitching seizure.
Destructo watches on with a smirk behind his own gasmask.
“I’ve always wondered how this would feel.” He stands on the twitching neck of Nox. “A nerve agent, naughty boy.”
Destructo kneels, pulling a gasping and wheezing Nox closer to his face.
“I’m not going to kill you, not yet.” He slams Nox’s head into the floor. “But vengeance is coming for you. At Ring of Dreams, before all of Arcadia… I’m going to take every ounce of revenge that you owe me.”
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Destructo has turned the tables on Nox. And he’s coming for him at Ring of Dreams.
MATT RUBY: Revenge is going to taste so sweet after everything Destructo has been through. But it will be even sweeter for Nox as he takes out a third member of the family.
Cut.
New Champs
The door swings open with a dull thud.
Jackson Cade steps into his locker room, sweat still clinging to his neck from the match earlier. But he’s not alone.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: This isn’t going to go well.
Jasper Redgrave is sprawled on a wooden chair looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. George Cade is the one who seems to have organized this.
George steps forward first, holding his hands up.
“Now that you’re tag team champions, you need to find a way to coexist.”
MATT RUBY: How can you argue with that? George is just doing what he needs to do to protect their titles!
Jackson stares at him. No words. Just the slow, sharp sound of his Championship belt sliding from his shoulder.
And then he hurls it at George’s chest!
MATT RUBY: What kind of son is he?
The title hits with a smack, metal clanging against ribs, and before George can react, Jackson launches himself at Jasper.
They crash into the lockers. A storm of fists. A flurry of fury.
Jasper fires back, but Jackson is rabid. He tackles him through a wooden bench, splinters flying. The room erupts in chaos—gear knocked loose, a table flipped, the mirror cracked by the back of Redgrave’s skull.
George tries to intervene, but Jackson steps over Jasper’s crumpled frame and spits at his father’s feet.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: I think that shows just how little respect Jackson has for his father anymore.
“You wanna be his bitch?” Jackson snarls. “Be my fucking guest. But at Ring of Dreams, you’re just as much in my crosshairs.”
George doesn’t answer, looking down at the ground.
Jackson storms out, the door swinging wide behind him.
Silence.
George bends down. Amidst the wreckage, his fingers close around a small vial that had slipped from Jackson’s neck during the fight.
The vial containing C.J. Thorpe’s blood.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: Redgrave gave that vial to Jackson after he killed C.J.
George turns it in his hand.
And says nothing.
Cut.
The Good, the Bad, and the Mariachi
Deep within the Slums, we find Drewitt following his trusted canine, Colt, on the hunt for something or someone. The Pilgrim's pal sniffs the ground thoroughly as they follow his nose down the road into an alleyway of sorts.
As they near the end of the alley, the dog barks, signaling that the scent stops here. The Explorer walks ahead and finds a slab of meat with a note attached to it. He pulls it off and reads it aloud.
"The tracker has become the tracked?"
"You know," a familiar voice behind the Pilgrim says, causing him to snap towards them and Colt to growl. "I didn't think it would be this easy to trap a world renowned explorer and his dog. Yet I managed to do it by getting my scent on some beef."
The clicking of a revolver is heard as the speaker steps into the light, revealing himself to the viewer as the former horseman of Conquest.
"If you're going to shoot anyone," Drewitt begins, "shoot me. You don't have an issue with my friend."
"Yes, but I can't kill you, can I?" The former Preacher asks rhetorically. "No matter how good it might feel for me to put one between your eyes, you'll come back to life and learn nothing from it. I want you to know what I felt when you sided with those that locked us away."
Just then, another revolver clicks from behind Grimskull. The skull faced man turns his head to spot EMM pointing a gun at him too.
"Drop it, pendejo," the Mariachi commands. "You have no right to talk about pain when you tried to kill me and Gemini." Grimskull scoffs, not dropping the gun or moving it away from Colt.
"You and your lover locked us behind that door last year," The former Conquest says. "You deserve exactly what you got."
"I told you to stay away from me!" Drewitt yells. Infuriated, he pulls out his own gun and points it at Muerte. Singing Death gulps nervously, but keeps the gun pointed at Grimskull.
"Amigo," the musician begins. "Don't point it at me. Point it at the man that turned his back on you and attempted to murder me in the streets of Agora."
"Do that, and I'll shoot this cloned mutt's head off!" The Preacher shouts.
Nobody dares move an inch.
It's a three way standoff.
Cut.
Ares III: Only Ares Can
The walls of the locker room hummed with anticipation. The low rattle of distant crowds could barely be heard beyond the concrete, but here—this was sacred. Quiet. Focused.
Ares sat on a bench, head low, hands busy. The thick beige wraps tightened around his knuckles with every precise turn, each loop a silent mantra. He was preparing not just for a fight—but for a reckoning.
The fluorescent light above him flickered, casting harsh shadows across his chiselled frame, already coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Every muscle in his body was taut with tension, with rage only just leashed.
Then—footsteps.
Measured. Familiar.
Zeus.
The Baron.
Alive.
Still pale, still limping slightly from his long coma, but his presence—undeniable.
Ares didn’t look up.
“Thought you’d be watching from the throne,” he muttered, pulling the wrap tighter around his wrist.
Zeus smiled faintly. “Not tonight.”
He stood behind him, arms crossed.
“I need to see it,” Zeus said. “Need to see you finish this. With your hands. Not armies. Not speeches. You.”
Ares exhaled slowly, finally glancing at him over his shoulder.
“Do you want him dead?” he asked bluntly. “Or just… pliant?”
Zeus smirked.
“You can’t kill the immortal,” he said with a chuckle.
Ares stood now, eye-to-eye with him.
“No,” he growled. “But I can make it fucking hurt.”
A beat passed. The air between them crackled.
Zeus reached forward and tapped Ares gently on the shoulder, almost paternal.
“Like only Ares can.”
Ares nodded once, just once, before turning toward the curtain. His eyes were lit with fury—but beneath it, a flicker of something deeper.
Loyalty. History. War.
He didn’t need a sword. He was the sword.
And tonight, someone was going to bleed.
Cut.
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: I know not what lies at the intersection of Death and War, but after tonight I need no longer ask.
MATT RUBY: I feel like I would be safer in the crowd. And not by much.
The bell rings and Gravedigger bum rushes Ares in an instant! He rains down fist after fist into the God of War only for Ares to fire back with a bone crushing headbutt to the skull! The Valkyrie stumbles back before returning the favor with a headbutt of his own! Ares doesn't even flinch as he wraps a massive hand around Gravedigger's throat and hauls him onto a shoulder!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: SPEAR OF ACHILLEUS! HE JUST LAWNDARTED GRAVEDIGGER OVER THE TOP ROPE RIGHT IN FRONT OF US!
MATT RUBY: I TOLD YOU WE WERE TOO CLOSE!
The War God steps onto the apron and lets out a roar as he leaps with a massive diving axe handle to a rising Gravedigger!
Flash.
PING!
GRAVEDIGGER MANIFESTED HIS SHOVEL AND JUST TOOK ARES OUT MIDAIR!
Ares is sent tumbling head over heels right onto his ass! He tries to rise only for the Valkyrie to rain down hellfire with vicious strikes, the shovel's edge digging into Ares' skin with every blow, blood flying off in scattered droplets across Gravedigger's face. Every last blow ends in a dull thud until one finally collides with Ares' hand!
And he looks fucking pissed.
SHOULDER BLOCK SENDS GRAVEDIGGER INTO THE ANNOUNCE TABLE!
The God slams Gravedigger back first off of the table before flinging him face first into the steel steps! The Valkyrie tries to push himself off of the metal but Ares grabs him first and bounces his face off of the ring post! He powers Gravedigger up into the air!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: BLOOD OF SPARTA! JACKHAMMER ONTO THE STEEL STEPS!
MATT RUBY: Did you hear that thud!?
But Ares isn't finished! The embodiment of war flings Gravedigger by his leg into the barricade! The undying grits his teeth as he fights to his feet only for Ares to line him up!
PHALANX BREAKER! SPARTAN KICK TO THE CHEST SENDS GRAVEDIGGER THROUGH THE GOD DAMNED BARRICADE!
The crowd is stunned into silence as Ares looks down at the broken Gravedigger, dragging him by his foot towards the ring! He flings him towards the ring, sending Gravedigger sliding under the apron! The God of War goes to pull him out-
AND GETS A CHAIR SHOT TO THE SKULL FOR HIS TROUBLES!
Gravedigger pops up, swinging the chair wildly as Ares collapses into the announce desk! He tries to push away-
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: CREEPING DEATH! SKULL CRUSHING FINALE ONTO THE EDGE OF OUR ANNOUNCE TABLE!
MATT RUBY: SCOOT BACK YOU GEEZER!
Gravedigger pulls back, nailing another Creeping Death against the table edge before rolling Ares on top! He moves to the ring, the steel chair still in hand as he ascends to the top turnbuckle! The crowd roars in approval, begging for him to jump!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: DON'T DO THIS, KID! IT AIN'T WORTH IT! GET DOWN FROM THERE!
MATT RUBY: I'M OUT OF HERE!
GRAVEDIGGER LEAPS! LAST RESPECTS! A CHAIR ASSISTED ELBOW DROP PUTS BOTH MEN THROUGH THE ANNOUCE TABLE!
The impact sends papers, microphones, and even poor Matt Ruby flying in an explosion of carnage! No one is moving, no one is even stirring!
And Gravedigger sits up.
He's not finished with Ares, not by a longshot as he peels the God up and rolls him into the ring! The Valkyrie tears the apron off the side of the ring and rummages beneath, throwing barbed wire, a tool box, and a sack into the ring! He rolls in and takes the sack, forcing it open and dumping a thumbtacks all over the mat!
Ares slowly rises as Gravedigger stalks him!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: NEVERMORE! EVENFLOW DDT- NO!
MATT RUBY: WAR DECLARED! SPINEBUSTER ONTO THE TACKS! BY ZEUS I CAN'T WATCH!
Gravedigger writhes in agony as the tacks pepper his back! Ares isn't done however as he grabs hold of the barbed wire and approaches the downed Gravedigger with ruthless intent!
AND HE WRAPS THE BARBED WIRE AROUND HIS NECK! HE'S CHOKING THE LIFE OUT OF GRAVEDIGGER!
The Valkyrie gasps in shock as blood seeps from his neck! He reaches out, hand scraping at the tool box as Ares tries to yank him away to the center of the ring!
CLANG!
THE TOOL BOX BOUNCES OFF OF ARES' SKULL!
But Ares doesn't let go.
Gravedigger fights for his life, his swings growing weaker as he tries to smack Ares with the box once more! His eyes begin to close and he reaches inside-
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: BY GOD! SCREWDRIVER TO THE LEG! GRAVEDIGGER JUST STABBED ARES WITH A SCREWDRIVER!
MATT RUBY: I'm gonna be sick!
Ares drops Gravedigger who yanks a wrench from the box and brings it down onto Ares' skull! The God of War takes the blow, yanking the screwdriver out of his leg as Gravedigger pummels away with that foreign object! Ares tries to stand tall but one more wayward swing to the jaw drops him! Gravedigger reaches down, powering Ares up with all of his might!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: CRADLE TO THE GRAVE- NO! ARES SLIPS OUT! F-5! F-5! OLYMPUS! HAS! FALLEN!
MATT RUBY: Cover him! Please cover him!
Mills Stanton drops for the count!
ONE!
...
...
TWO!
...
...
THREE!
BRONCO BLACKWOOD: When War and Death intersect, War still finds a way to come out on top. This battle has been bloody, it has been brutal, and I thank Zeus that it's over.
Chains
The crowd murmurs in stunned disbelief as Gravedigger, the monstrous specter of the underworld, slumps into the ropes like a man utterly shattered. Ares stands tall over him—bloodied, bruised, but victorious.
It’s not the loss that stings. It’s what it means.
The camera lingers on Gravedigger’s face, twisted with confusion. He’s not used to this… defeat. He clutches at the mat like he’s trying to remember how to hold power again.
And then—
FLUTTER.
The lights flicker. Darkness cuts through the arena like a scream muffled by stone.
When the lights return, a silhouette stands behind him.
Tombstone.
The Ferryman reborn. Towering. Silent. Inevitable.
The crowd erupts—a mix of gasps, boos, and awe. Gravedigger senses it, turns slowly—and the moment he does, Tombstone’s hand wraps around his throat.
BOOM!
FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS.
A chokeslam delivered straight from hell to canvas.
The ring shakes.
Gravedigger lies still, breath ragged, body limp.
Tombstone kneels beside him, not in mockery—but declaration.
He speaks, his voice gravel and death:
“At Ring of Dreams… the chains come off.”
He stands. Looks down.
“And I take them back.”
The lights flicker again.
When they return—Tombstone is gone. But the message is clear.
The Ferryman has returned to reclaim his mantle… And Gravedigger’s borrowed time is running out.
Cut to black.
The Chainsaw
Flickering lights dangle from frayed cords above, casting warped shadows across peeling wallpaper and shattered clown mirrors. Blood drips steadily from Hatchet’s chin, trailing down his bare chest—splattered red like twisted warpaint. His laughter echoes, ragged and feral, bouncing off the metal walls in manic waves.
Bodies surround him.
Juggalos.
The Gathering.
Slaughtered. Torn limb from limb. Their painted faces frozen in twisted horror, mouths agape, eyes wide, cold.
Hatchet sits cross-legged in the middle of it all, bathed in the carnage like it’s a baptism. His fingers twitch. His eyes shine green under the flickering light.
A creak from the door.
Charlie enters—face paint smeared, eyes wide with disbelief. He steps forward, his boots slipping slightly in the blood pooling on the trailer floor.
"Hatchet?"
Hatchet doesn’t answer. Just giggles.
Charlie takes another cautious step, swallowing the lump in his throat. "What the fuck happened here?"
Hatchet’s head tilts.
"Family reunion, brother."
He grins wider—teeth red.
Charlie takes a slow step back, panic setting in. "You... you did this?"
Hatchet slowly gets to his feet, the blood on his hands now dripping freely. He looks around at the bodies, admiring the chaos.
"They were laughing at me, Charlie," Hatchet said, voice soft and syrupy. "Laughing. They didn’t believe. But you believe, don’t you?"
Charlie doesn’t respond. He can’t. His legs start to shake.
Hatchet lunges.
A primal, snarling blur of violence, he barrels into Charlie like a cannonball. The scene cuts to black just as Hatchet’s roar fills the screen—somewhere between a laugh and a scream.
What the fuck has Nox made?
Cut.