TODD: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to NIGHTMARE on Anarchy! We are broadcasting tonight from the abandoned streets of Springwood, the infamous home of Freddy Krueger!
BAMA T: Todd, I gotta tell you, I don't like this place. I don't like these houses, I don't like this fog, I don't like that creepy guy painted on the wall over there. And I sure as hell don't like that the production truck is parked three blocks away because somebody was afraid to drive it down this street!
TODD: Well, BAMA, the entire card tonight is built around the spirit of Halloween, and we've got some enormous matches in store. Five tag teams will collide in our main event with the Anarchy Tag Team Championships on the line! Five teams, two champions, and absolute chaos in the main event slot!
BAMA T: Five teams?! That's ten people, Todd! That's a whole lot of elbows, knees, and people yelling at the referee! Somebody's gonna get launched into next Tuesday!
TODD: And that's not all! Summer Page will be in action tonight, defending her Revolution Championship against the freakish Tommy Wish! And in one of the biggest matches of the evening, Universal Champion Michael Graves has returned home to Anarchy! He's going toe to toe against Mr. Oz, one of the biggest stars in Anarchy history, both physically and metaphorically!
BAMA T: We've got a spectacular night of action ahead of us, and we're kicking things off with a special Main Event battle for the most prestigious nickname in professional wrestling: the Main Event moniker![/
The ring had been assembled in the middle of a random street in abandoned Springwood. Broken streetlights flickered overhead. Fog rolled between abandoned cars. The houses surrounding the street sat dark and silent, their windows resembling black, empty eyes. Someone had spray-painted a crude image of Freddy Krueger on the side of a nearby building.
In the middle of it all sat a wrestling ring.
“Main Event” Jay Fetu stood inside the ring, stretching his arms and looking around at the surroundings. He seemed perfectly comfortable. Across the street, “Main Event” Edgecrusher arrived alongside Solomon Kline, carrying a clipboard and wearing a pair of sunglasses despite the fact that the sun had already set on this town many years ago.
Edgecrusher stopped when he saw the ring.
MEEC: Solomon.
Kline: Yes?
MEEC: Why is the ring in the middle of a street?
Kline: It's an abandoned town.
MEEC: I know that. Why is the ring in the middle of the STREET?
Kline: I assume it's for the match.
Edgecrusher nodded slowly, impressed by the logic.
MEEC: Good. Good thinking. That's why you're my assistant.
He took three steps forward, then stopped again.
MEEC: Solomon.
Kline: Yes?
MEEC: Is that Freddy Krueger?
Kline followed his gaze toward the spray-painted wall.
Kline: That's graffiti.
MEEC: That's what he wants you to think.
TODD: Edgecrusher has arrived at ringside, and I don't think he's particularly impressed with the surroundings.
BAMA T: He's dressed for a wrestling match, Todd. He's got the sunglasses, he's got the confidence, he's got the clipboard guy following him around. He's ready for anything!
Jay Fetu leaned over the ropes.
Jay: You coming, Edgecrusher?
Edgecrusher straightened his jacket and pointed at Jay.
MEEC: Relax, Jay. A true Main Eventer arrives when he's ready. You can't rush greatness.
He took one step toward the ring. Somewhere in the distance, a metal door slammed.
Edgecrusher jumped nearly a foot into the air.
MEEC: JESUS CHRIST!
Kline: It was a door.
MEEC: I KNOW WHAT A DOOR SOUNDS LIKE, SOLOMON!
Jay started laughing.
Jay: Come on, uce! You scared of a little spooky street?
MEEC: I'm not scared. I'm assessing the environment.
He slowly turned in a circle, examining the abandoned buildings.
MEEC: Very poor neighborhood. Terrible lighting. No security. No concession stand. Who sanctioned this?
Kline: You did.
MEEC: I did not authorize the street to be this creepy.
TODD: BAMA, I think we may have a problem. Edgecrusher hasn't entered the ring, and the referee is already looking impatient.
BAMA T: Todd, I have seen this man do some questionable things in the name of maintaining his Main Event status. I've seen him dress like Jay Fetu. I've seen him try to tag his manager into a singles match. But I have NEVER seen him look this uncomfortable!
The referee, already standing beside the ring, checked his watch.
Ref: Edgecrusher, we need you in the ring.
MEEC: I'm getting there.
He took one step.
A nearby streetlight flickered out.
Edgecrusher immediately turned around.
MEEC: Nope.
Kline: What?
MEEC: Absolutely not.
Jay climbed onto the second rope and cupped his hands around his mouth.
Jay: HE'S CHICKEN! HE'S CHICKEN! HE'S CHICKEN! YEET!
Edgecrusher spun around.
MEEC: I AM NOT A CHICKEN!
A loud scraping sound came from somewhere behind the houses.
Edgecrusher froze.
Kline looked toward the noise.
Kline: Probably a trash can.
MEEC: PROBABLY?!
Edgecrusher backed away from the ring.
TODD: The referee is beginning the count! Edgecrusher could lose this match without throwing a single punch!
BAMA T: And if he does, Jay Fetu gets to keep calling himself the Main Event! That's gotta hurt! Imagine spending all that time talking about how great you are, only to lose because a streetlight went out!
That’s when the referee finally grew tired of Edgecrusher’s antics, and called for the bell to start the match!
"MAIN EVENT" EDGECRUSHER
- vs -
"MAIN EVENT" JAY FETU
Special Main Event!
The winner earns exclusive rights to the moniker "Main Event"!
|
...ONE!
Edgecrusher pointed at the referee.
MEEC: You cannot count me out. I haven't even entered the ring.
...TWO!
Ref: That's why I'm counting.
...THREE!
Edgecrusher turned to Kline.
MEEC: Record this. This is a conspiracy against the Main Event!
Kline: You're standing in the middle of the road refusing to wrestle.
MEEC: Exactly! They're trying to make me look bad!
...FOUR!
Jay leaned over the ropes.
Jay: Get in here, uce! I'll even let you hit me first!
MEEC: That's a trap. That's exactly what a man says when he's working with Freddy Krueger.
Kline: I don't think Jay is working with Freddy Krueger.
MEEC: That's what makes him dangerous, Solomon. He's unpredictable.
...FIVE!
Edgecrusher began walking away.
Kline hurried after him.
Kline: Where are you going?
MEEC: To find a well-lit establishment with normal walls and absolutely no dream demons.
Kline: What about the match?
MEEC: Solomon, listen carefully. A true Main Eventer knows when to fight, when to negotiate, and when to leave a haunted town before the credits roll!
...SIX!
Jay climbed onto the turnbuckles and spread his arms.
Jay: THAT'S RIGHT, UCE! RUN AWAY! I'M THE ONLY MAIN EVENT NOW! YEET!
TODD: Jay Fetu is loving every second of this! Edgecrusher is practically halfway down the street!
BAMA T: Practically? Todd, he's gone! He's already looking for the nearest Uber! Somebody check his phone, I bet he's searching for the closest town that doesn't have a horror movie franchise!
...SEVEN!
Edgecrusher stopped in the street and pointed back toward the ring.
MEEC: THIS IS A STRATEGIC WITHDRAWAL! I'M PRESERVING MY MAIN EVENT STATUS!
Kline: You might lose the match.
MEEC: You might lose your job if you keep asking questions!
...EIGHT!
Jay cupped his hands around his mouth.
Jay: DON'T FORGET TO YEET YOURSELF OUT OF HERE!
Edgecrusher turned around and broke into a run.
...NINE!
He disappeared around the corner with Solomon Kline jogging desperately behind him, still clutching the clipboard.
...TEN!
DING! DING! DING!
| Winner and STILL “Main Event”- Jay Fetu |
The referee raised Jay Fetu's hand.
TODD: IT'S OVER! Jay Fetu wins! Edgecrusher never even made it to the ring! Jay Fetu retains the Main Event moniker!
BAMA T: WHAT A PERFORMANCE! JAY DIDN'T HAVE TO THROW A SINGLE PUNCH! EDGECRUSHER GOT BEAT BY A BUILDING, A STREETLIGHT, AND SOME GRAFFITI!
Jay climbed onto the turnbuckles and celebrated as the crowd cheered.
Jay: THAT'S RIGHT! STILL THE MAIN EVENT! SOMEBODY GET ME A TOMATO SO I CAN THROW IT AT THAT COWARD!
The referee shrugged and started packing up his things.
From somewhere down the street, Edgecrusher's voice echoed back.
MEEC: I HEARD THAT! AND FOR THE RECORD, I WOULD HAVE WON!
Jay cupped his hands around his mouth.
Jay: YOU DIDN'T EVEN GET IN THE RING, UCE!
A distant car alarm suddenly began blaring.
MEEC: AAAAAAAAAH!
The screaming faded into the distance.
TODD: Well, BAMA, if this is how the evening begins, I can hardly imagine what's going to happen when five tag teams get into that ring later tonight!
BAMA T: I'm telling you right now, Todd. If that car alarm was Freddy Krueger, Edgecrusher is already three towns away. And after the night we've got planned, I might just join him!
Jay Fetu raises both arms in victory as the camera pans across the abandoned street, the flickering lights, and the terrifying Freddy Krueger graffiti.
"Christine" by Enzo Margaglio plays and the crowd gives a mixed reaction to the Librarian as she heads towards the Springwood High School with her Chronicler, Jamison, trailing behind her with his book open jotting down things. The Librarian often halts to SHH some fans who are a little too loud before moving along. On her way towards the high school entrance, she tags hands with some who appear to be more reserved and quiet, and when she happens upon the commentating crew she hands them self-help books to aid them in commentating better with more uses of flowery words. She eventually finds her way inside the high school. Jamison joins her, jotting more stuff down to document the crowd, her, and the match to come.
TODD: Tonight is The Librarian’s XWF debut, and I gotta say, I can’t imagine a creepier match to debut in!
BAMA T: You’re telling me, Todd! She has to go into a haunted high school and have a BODY BAG match against someone whose nickname is literally NIGHTMARE! This is why a lot of wrestlers don’t even get a second match in the XWF, Todd- because their first match kills them!
The lights goes out and hear a voice saying Wrestling has one royal family and when Kingdom hit's fireworks burst open and Razor Blade comes out wearing a American nightmare outfit and left his arms in the mid air and fist pumps in a fake air and he saw a kid wearing a Blake shirt and he takes off his American nightmare belt off his waist in hands it to the XWF fan and walks into the high school and raises both arms in the air and more fireworks burst once again and he gets inside of the high school and takes off his American nightmare jacket and prepares for a fight.
TODD: Razor Blade is here for some NIGHTMAREISH action! He had a hard fought match against El Landerson on last year’s halloween edition of Anarchy, and he’s back for some more spooktacular frights this year!
BAMA T: Razor Blade has become an XWF Anarchy mainstay, Todd! He’s basically become one with the floorboards by this point! The Librarian is in for a tough debut match, that’s for sure!
THE LIBRARIAN
- vs -
RAZOR BLADE
Body Bag Match!
Set inside Springwood High School, the only way to win is by incapacitating your opponent and zipping them into a body bag!
|
The match started in the locker banks area of Springwood High School. Body bags hung from the ceiling as Razor charged at Vesarria.
Vessaria side stepped Razor and palmed him in the face causing him to stumble. She charged forward and dropkicked him into the lockers causing them to rattle and him to stumble.
She rushed forward again, but Razor ducked and lifted her over his head. He rushed backward and smacked her into the lockers before dropping her down to the floor.
Jamison watched on in the background. He took note and continued to wait for the most opportune moment...
Razor reached down and lifted Vessaria to standing position in which she immediately raked him in the eyes and smashed his head against a locker before dragging him by the shoulder out into the hallway area.
Vessaria began to fire shot after shot at Razor as they made their way through the highschool. First one shot and then another— followed by another. After several, Razor blocked one off and drove a knee into The Librarian’s stomach.
Razor delivered a neckbreaker and reached upward after coming to standing position, pulling a body bag from the chain that was hanging above head. He unzipped it, but Jamison chucked a old soccer trophy at his back from the trophy case nearby.
Razor turned around, being distracted…
Vessaria used that moment to stand and poke Razor in the eyes, which caused him to stumble.
The Librarian grabbed him and tossed him into the room down the hallway. The door burst open and he fell forward, toppling over an old film projector.
Razor hit the carpeted floor of the auditorium as the projector fell beside him…
Vessaria followed him in and as he went to stand she picked up the projector and launched it in his direction...
Razor ducked at the last possible second and tackled her, sending them both tumbling down the rows of seats to the auditorium floor below.
Razor was the first to his feet and immediately pulled Vessaria up with him...
He whipped her across the open floor, but Vessaria held her grip and reversed it, sending Razor toward the stage instead.
Razor stopped himself just short of it and turned around…
Upon turning around, Razor got caught with a flying forearm to the chin. This caused him to stumble against the stage while The Librarian rushed forward again.
Vessaria tried for a second forearm, but this time Razor caught her and launched her over his shoulders. He fell backward, dropping her to the ground with a back body drop.
Vessaria hit the floor hard but quickly rolled back to her feet…
Razor charged— but his rush was countered into a Japanese Arm Drag.
He flipped over and rolled to his feet, only to get caught with another Japanese Arm Drag. Vessaria held the move this time and instantly went for a Fujiwara Armbar.
Razor would have none of it and powered through…
Vessaria tried to keep the momentum as she continued to stay aggressive, but that was halted as she got kicked in the stomach.
Razor locked her around the neck and lifted her quickly sending her flipping backward with a snap suplex.
Razor now looked to keep momentum in his corner as he lifted Vessaria to her feet. He hooked her around the head, attempting a neckbreaker, but Vessaria twisted free and caught him with a kick to the knee.
Razor hobbled, and got hit with another kick. This kick landed flush to the ankle…
He hopped around, trying to stay on his feet but Vessaria grabbed a textbook off of the dusty podium and smacked him across the cheek with it.
Vessaria looked over toward one of the auditorium seats and grabbed a body bag. She felt confident and began to unzip it as Jamison still looked on in the back of the auditorium with approval.
Vessaria spread the body bag across the auditorium floor and grabbed Razor by the ankle, dragging him toward it.
She managed to get one of his legs inside, but Razor started to fight it off…
Vessaria stomped him in the chest and tried to force the other leg inside, but Razor kicked her away.
Vessaria stumbled backward but quickly came forward again. Catching a counter, Razor hopped up and caught her around the waist. He used his strength to lift her off the floor and dropped her on her back with a scoop slam.
The impact gave Razor enough time to regain his composure…
Vessaria wasn’t far behind him, but Razor met her with a dropkick that sent her stumbling toward one of the auditorium’s side doors.
Razor charged forward and Vessaria tried to sidestep him, but he grabbed her before she could get away and threw her through the door and back into the hallway.
Vessaria hit the floor and rolled into the lockers on the opposite side.
Razor followed her out and grabbed her as she tried to stand…
Vessaria had him scouted with a well timed elbow. She followed it with another, before grabbing. Razor by the back of the head and smashing his face against the lockers.
Razor stumbled away, allowing Vessaria to charge and catch him with a running kneelift. Razor dropped to one knee as The Librarian grabbed him and tried for a bulldog, but Razor shoved her away before she could connect.
The Librarian hit the lockers and staggered back around. Razor caught her with a clothesline that sent her hard to the floor.
Jamison came through the auditorium door several seconds later, still carrying his book. Razor noticed him and stared in his direction, causing Jamison to immediately back away.
Vessaria took advantage and grabbed Razor from behind, trying to pull him into a sleeper hold. Razor fought her hands and stumbled back, smashing her hard into the lockers until she released him.
He turned around and threw a shot, but Vessaria ducked underneath it and caught him with a palm strike to the nose.
Razor stumbled backward as Vessaria followed with another shot and then another, forcing him farther down the hallway in a staggered state.
The shots continued, until Razor finally blocked one and grabbed her arm. He pulled Vessaria toward him and caught her with a knee to the stomach before grabbing her around the waist and throwing her into a classroom door.
The door flew open and Vessaria stumbled through it…
Razor followed her inside and quickly realized they had entered one of Springwood High School’s old science labs.
Dusty tables filled the room while beakers, test tubes and other equipment remained scattered across the countertops.
Vessaria grabbed the edge of one of the lab tables to steady herself as Razor came through the doorway behind her.
Vessaria looked over her shoulder and smiled while grabbing the first thing she could reach…
As Razor grabbed at her, she smashed a glass flask over his head.
He yelled in pain and backed up to avoid and more damage. Vessaria stayed aggressive as she dropped the broken flask following after him.
Vessaria grabbed the back of Razor’ neck and leaned him forward, kneeing him. Afterward she locked her hands around his waist and sent him flying with a German Suplex.
Razor hit the wash station hard, knocking several beakers and test tubes onto the floor…
Vessaria stalked him and grabbed him by the head. She pulled him to his feet, but Razor drove an elbow into her stomach before she could capitalize.
He followed his comeback with another, before grabbing Vessaria. He spun Vessaria and wrapped his arm over her driving her backward with a Russian Legsweep onto the floor.
Razor was the first to stand…
He grabbed Vessaria and pulled her up with him, before whipping her toward one of the lab tables. Vessaria hit the edge hard and Razor rushed forward, but she moved at the last second.
Razor crashed stomach-first into the table…
Vessaria grabbed his arm and pulled him back, but Razor raked her in the eyes before lifting her into the air and tossing her across the table.
The Librarian rolled off and fell to the floor…
Razor took a moment to recover before grabbing her again. He pulled Vessaria up and attempted a bulldog, but she shoved him forward.
Razor stopped himself against the wall…
Vessaria charged forward but Razor moved and Vess crashed into the wall, stumbling backward. Razor reached forward and caught her with a snap powerslam onto the floor.
Jamison now entered the science lab, just as Razor stood back up…
He glanced toward Vessaria and then toward Razor before slowly moving his hand toward the book underneath his arm.
Razor pointed at him, and Jamison snarled…
Razor’s warning was enough to make him think twice. Razor turned his attention back toward
Vessaria, but the distraction had already done its job.
Vessaria got back to her feet and caught Razor with a dropkick that sent him stumbling backward through the doorway and into the hallway.
Vessaria followed him out and went for another dropkick, but Razor swatted her legs away and caused her to crash onto the floor.
He reached down and pulled The Librarian up by the hair, only for Vessaria to drive a strike into his nose. Razor stumbled back into the lockers and Vessaria rushed him, connecting with a running kneelift that caused his legs to buckle underneath him.
She grabbed Razor by the head and jumped forward drilling Razor to the floorwith a bulldog.
Razor rolled around in pain. Vessaria stood up and pulled Razor to a standing position, smashing him into an old water fountain.
Razor bounced off the fountain and stumbled down the hallway…
Vessaria stayed on him, grabbing him by the shoulder and firing an elbow strike across his face. She went for another, but Razor blocked it and answered with a shot of his own.
They began to exchange blows back and forth, staggering each other further down the hallway, until Razor finally gained the advantage.
He drove a knee into Vessaria’s stomach and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her and throwing her through a set of double doors.
Vessaria crashed onto the floor and slid several feet as Razor followed her through the entry.
They had entered the library…
How convenient…
Rows of dusty bookshelves filled the room with several tables scattered throughout the center. Vessaria looked around and smiled. Razor had unknowingly brought The Librarian directly into
her element.
Razor reached down and grabbed her, but Vessaria raked him across the eyes and shoved him away. Razor stumbled into one of the bookshelves, knocking several books onto the floor.
Vessaria charged forward and jumped at him, but Razor caught her in midair. He carried her several steps before throwing her across one of the study tables with an inverted suplex slam.
Vessaria rolled across the floor in pain as Razor reached out and grabbed one of the hanging body bags from the bookshelf.
Razor pulled the body bag down and tossed it across the floor before turning his attention back toward Vessaria.
The Librarian was already starting to get up, using one of the nearby tables to pull herself to her feet. Razor rushed forward and caught her with a kick to the stomach before grabbing her underneath the head and flipping her over with the Blade Rose!
Vessaria crashed onto the library floor and remained motionless as Razor dropped beside her, exhausted from the fight.
After taking a moment to recover, Razor crawled toward the body bag and pulled it open…
He grabbed Vessaria by the ankles and dragged her toward it, managing to get both of her legs inside before pulling the bag up around her waist.
Jamison watched nervously from the other side of the library as Razor continued working the bag around Vessaria’s body. With only her shoulders and head remaining exposed, Razor reached down for the zipper.
Jamison had seen enough…
He rushed behind one of the bookshelves and pushed against it with everything he had…
Razor heard the shelf tip and turned around, but it was too late. The bookshelf came crashing down on top of him, burying Razor underneath it as books scattered across the library floor.
Jamison immediately rushed over to Vessaria and helped pull her out of the body bag…
Razor seemed lifeless underneath the bookshelf. The Librarian began looking through the books and looked a bit aggravated that Jamison had knocked them over.
Still, she and Jamison worked together to pull a groggy Razor out from under the bookshelf...
Once they stood him up, Vessaria grabbed him around the head before driving him into the library floor with Out of Print!
Vessaria pulled herself up and reached toward the body bag. Jamison grabbed Razor's ankle and pulled him closer to her.
Vessaria forced both of Razor’s legs inside before pulling the bag around his waist and working it farther up his body.
Razor started to regain stability and immediately began fighting against The Librarian...
One of his arms slipped free and he grabbed Vessaria by the wrist, but she drilled him with a barrage of stomps to chest.
Razor began to lose his grip as Vessaria pulled it off her and shoved it back inside the body bag.
She pulled it over his shoulders and then reached for the zipper.
The few lights inside the library that worked suddenly flickered…
The walls around the library began to peel and the ground began shifting…
Vessaria stopped and looked toward the ceiling as a lightbulb blew...
Jamison slowly lowered his book and looked around the room, knowing exactly what was about to happen...
The sirens began to sound throughout Springwood High School and the town outside…
Vessaria and Jamison looked at each other as the sirens grew louder…
The sound of metal twisting and becoming distorted echoed the room…
Razor was still struggling inside the body bag and Vessaria immediately grabbed the zipper, pulling it upward as quickly as she could.
DING!! DING!! DING!!
After the bell sounded, Vessaria and Jamison looked at one another. They both wanted nothing more than to get the hell to safety.
TODD: The Librarian did it! With the help of Jamison, she just stuffed Razor Blade into that bodybag! She walks out of her XWF debut victorious!
BAMA T: This match was never fair, Todd! Razor got screwed!
TODD: Because of Jamison?
BAMA T: No, Todd! Because she’s THE LIBRARIAN! This high school had a library! She had home court advantage the whole way through!
Vessaria looked down at the moving body bag that Razor struggled to get out of, but were easily distracted as the heard the scrapping and dragging of the Great Knife.
Jamison and Vessaria began to scurry off…
![[Image: wireline.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/xCmXvVpR/wireline.png)
Bama: “Todd, I’m gonna level with you. If somebody told me I had to go into Freddy Krueger’s boiler room to settle a grudge, I’d be happy to let the grudge win. Mercy and Vita, though? These two have been thinkin’ about each other so much they probably got each other’s faces on their Christmas cards.”
Todd: “And judging by their words in the lead-up to this match, they’ve been thinking about that last encounter in very specific ways.”
Bama: “Mercy wants to prove Vita’s a monster. Vita wants to prove she can beat a monster without turnin’ into one. Sounds real philosophical. I’m more concerned about the razor blades, the steam pipes, and the fact that I’m pretty sure this building’s insurance policy says we’re not allowed to be here.”
The camera cuts away from the commentary desk.
A heavy metal door sits at the end of a narrow, dimly lit corridor. Rust streaks the walls. A red emergency bulb flickers overhead, painting everything in intermittent flashes of crimson. Behind the door, machinery groans and hisses. Steam escapes through the frame in thin, ghostly ribbons.
The door opens.
Vita Valenteen stands on the other side, her expression unusually serious. She wears her familiar gear, but she has something else with her: a battered baseball bat, gripped in both hands.
She looks down at it.
She steps inside.
The door slams behind her.
Vita turns at the sound. She tests the handle once. Locked.
A voice drifts out of the steam.
CHHHHHH CHHHHH CHHHHHHH AHHHH AHHH AHHH
TODD: Isn’t that sound from Friday the 13th?
BAMA: Shuddup, Tood.
Vita turns back.
Mercy stands at the far end of the room, beneath a bank of hanging chains. Her black suit blends into the shadows, leaving her scarred mouth and pale face illuminated by the red light. She smiles, the old wound stretching wider than it should.
Vita lifts the bat a few inches.
Mercy tilts her head.
Vita’s grip tightens.
Mercy’s smile disappears.
MERCY
- vs -
VITA VALENTEEN
Boiler Room Brawl!
The only way to win this grudge match is by escaping Freddy Krueger's boiler room! |
The bell doesn't ring. There is no referee to signal the start. No official to separate them. No count to give either woman time to recover.
Mercy simply charges.
Vita swings.
The bat whistles through the air, but Mercy has watched the tape, too. She drops low, the bat sailing over her head, and crashes into Vita’s midsection with a running shoulder tackle. Vita folds around the impact. The bat clatters away across the concrete.
Mercy grabs a fistful of Vita’s hair and drives her backward into a steel support beam.
CLANG!
Vita’s head snaps forward. Mercy catches her by the jaw, forcing her to look up.
Vita answers with a sharp knee to the stomach.
Mercy grunts. Vita twists free and throws a quick forearm into Mercy’s face, then another. She follows with a knife-edge chop that echoes through the boiler room.
CRACK!
Mercy barely flinches.
Bama: “Well, that’s not good. Vita’s throwin’ everything she’s got, and Mercy looks like she’s waitin’ for her coffee to finish brewin’!”
Todd: “Vita knows she can’t let Mercy dictate the pace. In their previous match, Mercy repeatedly turned exchanges into opportunities to inflict damage. Vita’s going to have to keep moving.”
Vita tries. She ducks a wild swing, darts behind Mercy, and lands a Russian legsweep that finally puts the larger woman on the floor. Vita rolls through, gets to her feet, and immediately reaches for the bat.
Mercy grabs her ankle.
Vita kicks free before Mercy can pull her down, snatches the bat, and spins around.
Mercy scrambles upright.
Vita swings at her legs.
Mercy jumps just enough to avoid the worst of the blow, but the bat catches her shin on the way through. Mercy stumbles against a pipe, and Vita uses the opening to drive the end of the bat into Mercy’s stomach.
Mercy doubles over.
Vita raises the bat again.
For a split second, her expression changes.
Todd: So much emotion in Vita’s eyes! She can’t afford to hesitate! Hesitation cost her dearly last time these two met!
Mercy sees the pause.
She lunges forward, grabbing the bat with both hands. Vita tries to wrench it back, but Mercy yanks hard and drives her forehead into Vita’s face.
Vita staggers.
Mercy tears the bat away and flings it down the room. It slides beneath a maze of pipes, disappearing into darkness.
Vita wipes blood from her lip.
Mercy grabs her by the throat.
Vita responds with a low kick to the knee, a quick elbow to the ribs, and a springboard-assisted arm drag off the side of a metal cabinet. Mercy hits the floor on her back. Vita lands awkwardly beside her, but immediately scrambles away rather than trying to capitalize with a pin that would mean nothing.
Mercy rises with a low, delighted laugh.
Vita backs toward a narrow passage between two banks of pipes.
She lunges again.
Vita bolts down the passage.
The chase begins.
Mercy is faster than her size suggests. She catches Vita at the passage’s end, wraps both arms around her waist, and hurls her into a wire-mesh partition.
The partition rattles violently. Vita bounces off it, and Mercy immediately grabs her by the shoulders, hauling her upright.
SIDEWALK SLAM!
Vita hits the concrete hard enough to knock the air from her lungs.
Mercy drops beside her and catches her wrist. She brings it toward her mouth.
Todd: “Oh, no! We saw this two weeks ago! Mercy is going after the hand!”
Mercy opens her mouth.
Vita yanks her hand away and drives her boot into Mercy’s face.
Bama: That was almost muscle memory from Vita! She doesn’t wanna get into another biting brawl with Mercy!
Mercy falls backward, but Vita is already rolling to her feet. She rushes forward with a basement dropkick that catches Mercy square in the chest, knocking her against the partition.
Vita doesn't stop there. She grabs a hanging chain, loops it around Mercy’s arm, and pulls hard, using the chain to drag Mercy away from the partition and off balance.
Mercy stumbles.
Vita drives a knee into her ribs, then a second. She twists, trying to wrench Mercy's arm behind her back.
For a moment, the smaller woman has the larger one trapped.
Then Mercy smiles.
She steps into Vita's space and drives a brutal headbutt into her forehead.
Vita's knees buckle.
Mercy tears the chain free and flings it aside. She catches Vita around the waist and lifts her.
THE FADED!
The Bernard Bomb sends Vita crashing onto a metal grate.
Vita writhes, clutching her back. Mercy stands over her, breathing heavily, but her eyes are fixed on Vita's face.
She crouches beside Vita.
Vita tries to crawl away.
Mercy catches her by the ankle and drags her back.
Vita kicks with her free leg, catching Mercy in the jaw. Mercy releases her, and Vita scrambles beneath a low pipe, narrowly avoiding Mercy’s grasping hand.
She emerges on the other side and finds herself beside a rusted workbench.
Something glints on its surface.
A metal glove. Five long, curved blades extending from its fingers.
Vita stares.
Mercy sees what she has found.
For the first time tonight, she looks genuinely delighted.
She dives for the glove.
Vita reaches for it, too, but Mercy's longer arms get there first. She snatches the glove off the bench and slides it onto her right hand. The blades catch the red light.
Mercy flexes her fingers.
SHINK. SHINK. SHINK.
Bama: “Well, that’s just wonderful! We got a baseball bat, we got chains, and now the lady with the mouth like a zipper has a hand full of knives!”
Todd: “Those are not knives, Bama. They're blades attached to a glove, and I really don't think the distinction makes this situation any better!”
Bama: Todd, I’m going to google the difference between a blade and a knife, and if you’re not correct, I’m NEVER going to let you hear the end of this.
…
Bama: So, a blade is just a knife without a handle? Feh. Semantics.
Mercy draws the blades slowly across the workbench. Sparks spit from the metal.
Vita's eyes dart toward the passage behind her. She calculates the distance, the obstacles, the angles. Her expression is frightened, but it isn't frozen.
Mercy lunges.
Vita ducks beneath the first swipe. The blades carve a line through the fabric of her shoulder. She cries out and twists away from the second slash, which strikes the wall with a shriek of metal.
Mercy follows her, slashing wildly.
Vita slips around a boiler, forcing Mercy to navigate the narrow gap. The glove catches on a pipe. Mercy yanks it free, tearing a strip of rusted insulation loose.
Vita kicks a loose metal bucket into Mercy's shins.
Mercy stumbles, and Vita darts past her.
Mercy turns and slashes again.
Vita drops flat. The blades pass inches above her face.
She rolls between Mercy's legs, comes up behind her, and delivers a sharp kick to the back of the knee. Mercy drops to one knee. Vita catches her by the head and drives her face into the boiler casing.
CLANG!
Mercy staggers, but doesn't fall.
Vita grabs a dangling chain and swings it around Mercy's gloved wrist. She yanks, pulling Mercy's arm away from her body, then drives a running knee into Mercy's ribs.
The blades scrape against the floor.
Vita twists the chain around a pipe and pulls, pinning Mercy's arm for a precious moment.
Mercy bares her teeth.
Mercy pulls!
The pipe groans. A bracket tears loose from the wall, and the chain snaps free.
Vita barely has time to duck before Mercy swings the glove again. One blade catches her across the side, slicing through her gear and opening a shallow wound.
Vita hisses through her teeth.
Mercy pauses to admire the blood.
Vita presses a hand to her side.
She advances, blades spread.
Vita backs away, eyes fixed on the glove.
Mercy slashes.
Vita slips aside, catches Mercy's wrist with both hands, and drives her elbow into Mercy's arm. The glove drops, clattering onto the floor.
Vita immediately kicks it away.
Mercy looks down at her empty hand.
Vita doesn't wait for her to react. She hits a rope bounce off a thick insulated cable, springs forward, and catches Mercy with a running bulldog that drives the larger woman face-first into the concrete.
Vita lands beside her, gasping.
She could keep hitting her.
She could take the glove and turn it against Mercy.
Instead, she looks past Mercy, searching for a way out.
Todd: “That is an important distinction. Vita is fighting back, but she isn't getting distracted by the opportunity to hurt Mercy. She's looking for the exit.”
Bama: “And Mercy's lookin' for a way to make Vita forget that exit exists!”
Mercy rises behind Vita and wraps an arm around her throat.
Vita's face tightens.
TODD: Oh no! Vita knows this setup very well!
BAMA: Two weeks ago, Mercy had caught her in a choke and turned it into the hold that ultimately ended their match. Vita had escaped the Mort Noire once, then failed to escape it the second time!
TODD: Vita’s spent the days since replaying that sequence over and over! Will all that time watching the tape back prevent what feels inevitable?!?
Mercy drags her backward.
Vita drives her heel down onto Mercy's instep, elbows her in the ribs, and twists free before the grip can settle.
She turns and lands a black elbow across Mercy's jaw.
Then another.
Then a third.
Mercy stumbles back, and Vita follows with a high knee that catches her beneath the chin.
Vita seizes the opening and climbs onto a low platform beside the boiler. She turns, looking down at Mercy.
Mercy slowly straightens.
She leaps.
SUPER BULLDOG!
Vita drives Mercy down onto the metal grate. The impact sends a violent shudder through the platform.
Vita rolls away and gets to her feet.
Mercy pushes herself upright. Her scarred mouth stretches into a smile again.
She charges.
Vita sidesteps and catches Mercy with a swinging neckbreaker. Mercy hits the floor, and Vita scrambles over her, looking for the passage she came through.
She finds it.
She runs.
Mercy follows.
The boiler room seems to stretch around them. Pipes that should lead to the same corridor turn into dead ends. Steam blasts from valves at unexpected intervals, filling the air with white clouds. The red lights flicker, and every time they return, Mercy seems to be standing somewhere different.
Vita rounds a corner and finds the baseball bat lying beneath a bank of pipes.
She skids to a stop.
For a split second, she looks almost relieved.
Then Mercy's voice comes from behind her.
Vita snatches up the bat and spins around.
Mercy emerges from the steam, the Freddy glove back on her hand.
Mercy slashes.
Vita blocks with the bat.
CLANG!
The blades bite into the wood. Vita jerks the bat back, but one of the claws catches in it. Mercy pulls, trying to wrench the weapon away.
Vita refuses to let go.
They struggle over it, the bat wedged between them. Mercy uses her free hand to strike Vita across the face. Vita staggers, but she keeps both hands on the bat.
Mercy hits her again.
Vita's grip slips.
Mercy pulls the bat toward herself, raising the clawed glove for a final slash.
Vita lets go.
Mercy stumbles backward, suddenly off balance. Vita drives a kick into her stomach, then grabs the bat again before it can hit the floor.
She swings.
The bat catches Mercy across the ribs.
Mercy doubles over with a strangled gasp.
Vita raises it for another blow.
Mercy looks up at her.
Not at the bat.
At Vita.
Vita's arms tremble.
Vita's eyes narrow.
She looks at the bat. Then at Mercy.
She swings the bat into Mercy's forearm.
The impact knocks the claw glove loose. It flies across the room and disappears into a storm drain beneath the pipes.
Vita drops the bat, steps forward, and hits Mercy with a sharp forearm to the jaw. Mercy reels. Vita follows with a running high knee, then a springboard back elbow off the side of the boiler.
Mercy crashes against the wall.
Vita grabs her wrist and tries to pull her toward the corridor, but Mercy reverses the grip, twists Vita's arm, and throws her into a bank of metal cabinets.
The doors burst open. Tools and scraps of metal rain down around them.
Mercy stalks forward, wiping blood from her mouth.
Vita pushes herself up.
She takes a breath, then steps forward.
She throws herself at Mercy.
The two women collide in the center of the room, trading forearms, elbows, and kicks in a furious exchange.
Todd: Thus far, Mercy's size has given her the advantage; every clean strike she lands has sent Vita staggering!
Bama: But Vita ain’ backin’ down one lick! Mercy keeps waiting for that shell to crack, but Vita’s weatherin’ the storm!
Vita ducks a wild swing and hits a low kick to Mercy's knee. She follows with a Russian legsweep.
As they both land in a heap on the boiler room floor, Mercy shoves Vita away by the skull… before crawling to reach back to her feet…
Mercy: “Still thinking like a wrestler!”
Vita scrambles exhaustedly back up right to a vertical base…
Mercy grabs her by the throat and lifts her.
CHOKESLAM!
Vita crashes onto the concrete.
Mercy drops beside her and catches her around the waist, hauling her back up. She drives Vita into the wall, then lifts her again.
POWERBOMB!
The impact shakes the pipes overhead.
Vita lies motionless for a moment. Mercy kneels beside her, breathing heavily. Her fingers curl and uncurl, as though she can still feel the blades of the glove.
She grabs Vita's hair and pulls her upright.
Vita spits blood onto the floor.
Mercy slams her face-first into the wall.
Vita drops to her knees.
Mercy crouches behind her, threading an arm beneath Vita's chin and reaching for the other arm.
Todd: “Mercy is setting her up! We know this position. This is where she wants her!”
Bama: “Mercy’s about to go back-to-back! The Mort Noire is getting locked in!
Vita feels the first pull across her shoulders.
Mercy claws, pulling tighter, as she feels Valenteen falling into her clutches…
But Vita plants her feet, refusing to budge.
Mercy pulls with all her might, trying to break Vita’s stance and pull her to the floor.
But at just the right moment, Vita drives backward, smashing Mercy into the wall. The hold loosens. Vita turns and lands an elbow, then another, forcing Mercy to release her.
Vita staggers away, clutching her shoulder.
Mercy follows, her expression shifting from amusement to anger.
Mercy lunges.
Vita ducks, but Mercy catches her around the waist and hurls her onto the metal platform beside the boiler. Vita hits hard and rolls onto her side.
Mercy climbs up after her.
Vita tries to crawl away, but Mercy grabs her ankle and drags her back. She twists Vita onto her stomach, traps one arm behind her, and begins threading the other into position.
Vita kicks, struggles, and tries to twist free.
Mercy drives her knee between Vita's shoulder blades.
The hold tightens.
MORT NOIRE!
Todd: “MORT NOIRE! Mercy has it locked in! She's got Vita right where she wants her!”
Vita cries out.
Mercy's arms wrench Vita's shoulders backward. The pressure is immediate and horrible, forcing Vita's face toward the metal grating. Her legs kick against the platform. She reaches for the edge, fingertips scraping uselessly over the steel.
Mercy leans back, tightening the hold.
Vita gasps.
Vita tries to plant her feet. Mercy shifts her weight and pulls her back down.
Vita's fingers curl around the edge of the platform.
Vita's arm begins to tremble. Her vision blurs. The steam and red light smear together into something indistinct. The familiar panic rises in her chest.
She knows she is running out of strength.
Mercy presses her face close to Vita's ear.
Vita tries to answer, but all that comes out is a strained, breathless sound.
Vita's hand slips from the edge.
Todd: “Vita is in serious trouble here! Mercy has this hold cinched in, and there is no submission victory in this match. If Vita passes out, Mercy can simply leave her here and escape!”
Bama: “And look at Mercy! She ain't even thinkin' about that door anymore. She wants Vita to break first!”
Mercy shifts her grip, dragging Vita's arm farther back.
Vita's face contorts in agony. Her body begins to sag.
For one terrible moment, she looks as though she might go limp again.
Mercy smiles.
Vita's eyes flutter.
Vita’s eyes open…
And she’s suddenly back in her bedroom.
A donation box of old clothes sits atop her bed…
She blinks confusedly, grasping at her throat…
Was that… all a dream?
*"HeehEeHeE...*
A sound comes from the back of the closet…
…Vita peers perplexedly into it, stepping forward carefully…
…
She grips the closet’s edges.
And looks ins-
SHINK!
IT’S MERCY IN A STRIPED FREDDY SWEATER WITH THE CLAW GLOVE!
*"AsHLeY joHNsOn... wHAt dO YoU wAnT?"*
Mercy tackles Vita onto the bed, her old stuff, fit for donations, scatters about in a heap!
Vita desperately clutches onto Mercy’s hand, holding it toward the sky away from her!
Mercy grins maniacally as she brings her weight down to break Mercy’s grip…
Vita’s eyes are fearful and Mercy loves it! She continues to try and outstrength Vita, driving the knife glove into Vita!
…When Vita gets a glint of determination in her eye…
Mercy’s eyes spark with a mixture of surprise… and delight…
Vita stops trying to hold her back…
And pulls her forward!
MERCY’S HAND DRAWS DOWNWARD FOR A KILLING BLOW!
…
…..
But Vita slips downward! All Mercy manages to pierce is a pillow!
Mercy tries to retract her hand for another claw!
But Vita grabs her arm!
Her!
Her lips part.
Two sharp fangs emerge.
Mercy sees them a fraction of a second too late.
Vita twists her head and bites down on Mercy's forearm.
*"AaAaaaai]AA[/i]AaAHHHHHH!”*
Vita’s eyes snap open! She’s back in the match!
And her fangs are deep in the forearm of Mercy!
Todd: Bama, what the HELL was that just now?!?
Bama: Vinnie Lane’s drones can literally follow these wrestlers into their dreams! Very expensive but so, so worth it!!
The sound is raw, furious, almost disbelieving. Her grip breaks as she jerks her arm away from Vita's mouth. Blood runs between Vita's lips. She releases Mercy and rolls onto her back, coughing and gasping for air.
Mercy stumbles away, clutching her bitten arm. For once, there is no theatrical smile, no delighted monologue. She looks at Vita with genuine hatred.
She swings her wounded arm forward, trying to rake Vita's face with her free hand.
But Vita has already moved.
She rolls backward off the platform, lands on her feet, and runs toward the wall.
Mercy follows, furious, reaching for her.
Vita plants a foot against a metal brace and climbs. She catches a pipe, pulls herself higher, then scrambles up the side of the boiler room structure, using brackets and jutting supports as footholds.
Todd: “Vita's climbing! She's going up the wall!”
Bama: “I don't know if that's a plan or a vampire havin' a complete nervous breakdown, Todd, but it sure beats takin' a nap in that hold!”
Mercy reaches the base of the wall and looks up.
Vita clings to a horizontal pipe, crouched above her. Her hair hangs in her face. Her breathing is ragged. Her shoulder is bleeding, her body is battered, and her hands are shaking.
But her eyes are clear.
Mercy grabs for Vita's ankle.
Vita kicks free and swings her body outward, catching a higher support with both hands. She pulls herself onto a narrow ledge above the boiler. Mercy climbs after her, grabbing at her legs, determined not to let Vita escape her reach.
Vita scrambles across the ledge.
Mercy lunges.
Vita drops from the ledge, catches the edge of a metal railing with both hands, and swings herself forward.
For one impossible instant, she is suspended above Mercy.
Then she releases.
EAT DEFEAT!
Vita's springboard dropkick crashes into Mercy's face as she descends. Mercy's head snaps back, and she collapses onto the concrete, sprawling beneath the wall.
Vita hits the floor on her side and rolls, clutching her ribs.
Neither woman moves.
The boiler hisses.
Somewhere in the darkness, a pipe knocks against the wall.
Todd: “EAT DEFEAT! VITA CAUGHT HER! WHAT A COUNTER!”
Bama: “And Mercy is DOWN! Todd, I don't know how much more either of these women can take!”
Vita slowly gets to her hands and knees.
She looks at Mercy.
Before Vita turns toward the corridor.
The exit is visible now, a heavy door beneath a flickering green emergency sign.
Vita starts walking.
One step.
Then another.
She passes the discarded chain. The dented cabinet. The place where Mercy first caught her with the claw glove.
Her gait is unsteady, but she keeps moving.
Todd: “Vita is heading for the exit! She has an opportunity to win this match!”
Bama: “Don't look back, Vita! Don't you dare look back!”
Vita reaches the door.
She puts one hand against it, searching for the handle.
A hand closes around her ankle.
TODD: AHHHHH! JUMPSCARE BEFORE THE FINAL CREDITS!
Vita freezes.
Mercy lies behind her, one arm extended, her face bloodied, her expression twisted into a furious grin. She has dragged herself across the floor just far enough to catch Vita before she can leave.
She pulls.
Vita falls backward, striking the floor on her hip. Mercy crawls toward her, still clutching Vita's ankle, trying to drag her away from the door.
Vita twists, trying to free her leg.
Mercy hangs on.
Vita looks down at her.
Mercy tightens her grip and begins hauling herself forward.
Vita's expression hardens.
She plants her free foot.
Then she rises.
DOUBLE FOOT STOMP!
Both boots come crashing down across Mercy's face.
Mercy's hands fly open. Her grip releases Vita's ankle, and she collapses flat onto the concrete, unconscious.
Vita stumbles backward, breathing hard. She stares at Mercy for a long moment, waiting for the movement that doesn't come.
Then she turns.
She opens the door.
A wash of cold hallway light spills into the boiler room. Vita steps across the threshold, pauses, and looks back at the nightmare behind her.
She pulls the door shut.
SLAM!
| Winner: Vita FREAKIN’ Valenteen! |
Bama: “She did it! She survived the whole nightmare, Todd! The claws, the chains, the Mort Noire, the whole dang Freddy Krueger experience—and she walked out!”
Todd: “Two weeks ago, Mercy beat Vita by putting her to sleep in the Mort Noire. Tonight, she tried to do it again. Vita was on the verge of passing out, and she found a way to fight back. She didn't have to become what Mercy wanted her to be. She just had to make the choice that would let her win.”
The camera lingers on the closed boiler room door.
Behind it, the machinery continues to groan.
In the hallway, Vita leans against the wall, one hand pressed to her injured shoulder. She looks exhausted, battered, and more than a little shaken. She glances down at her bloodied fingers, then at the door.
Her fangs slowly retract.
Vita exhales.
She takes one unsteady step, then another, heading toward the light at the end of the corridor.
The camera cuts back to the door.
For a moment, nothing happens.
Then, from somewhere on the other side, comes the faint sound of metal scraping against metal.
It shows Tommy in the shadows in a corridor somewhere on the X-Tron in a mask of some sort, and he heads down to the entrance. Once the funky intro breaks into "PAIN MADE TO ORDER", Tommy comes out headbanging to the song and he walks down and gives people some high fives, and even flicking off some people in the process. He then steps into the bathtub, and takes the mask off and sits in the corner, as his theme stops playing and he sits there with no emotion as he awaits his victim.
S&M By Rhianna will play throughout the area as the crowd cheers while Summer walks down the aisle. Summer gets to the bathtub and walks in. Summer looks out at the crowd and raises her arms out to the crowd as the crowd cheers louder. Summer turns her attention to inside the tub where she motions to the referee so she can hand him her belt. Summer walks over to the closest corner and stands there confidently, waiting for the match to begin.
TODD: We are about to witness one of the most horrifying championship matches in XWF history! Tommy Wish challenges the reigning Revolution Champion, Summer Page, in the Bath-Tub of Horror! Both competitors are trapped inside this enormous bathtub, the water is rising, and the only way to win is to drown your opponent!
BAMA T: Todd, I got one question. WHO THOUGHT OF THIS?! We got a bathtub big enough to park a truck in, two people fighting for their lives, and Freddy Krueger supposedly lurking around somewhere! This ain't wrestling anymore, man. This is a lawsuit waiting to happen!
TOMMY WISH
- vs -
SUMMER PAGE ©
BATH-TUB OF HORROR MATCH!
The two competitors are trapped inside a giant bathtub. It will slowly fill with water. The first person to DROWN their opponent will walk away with the Revolution Championship! But beware...Freddy Krueger may just be waiting for you both!
|
Tommy Wish immediately charges across the bathtub and tackles Summer Page into the curved wall. Water splashes over the rim as Summer's back smacks against the surface. Tommy grabs her by the hair and tries to force her head underwater, but Summer drives an elbow into his ribs and twists free.
She scrambles up, catches Tommy with a forearm to the face, and sends him stumbling backward through the shallow water.
Summer charges and drives her shoulder into his stomach. Both competitors crash into the side of the tub. Tommy swings wildly, catching Summer across the cheek. He follows with another punch, then grabs her around the waist and attempts to throw her beneath the water.
Summer fights like hell, clawing at his arms until she manages to slip behind him. She grabs his head and smashes his face against the side of the bathtub.
TODD: Summer Page is throwing everything she has at Tommy Wish! She knows the water is rising, and every second spent fighting gives them less room to breathe!
BAMA T: I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU, TODD, BUT I'M STAYING AWAY FROM BATHTUBS FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE AFTER THIS!
Tommy staggers away from the wall, holding his face. Summer grabs him by the wrist and whips him across the tub. Tommy slips on the wet surface, falls onto his back, and sends a tidal wave of water crashing toward the champion.
Summer lunges to cover him, trying to hold his shoulders and head beneath the water. Tommy immediately starts thrashing, kicking his legs and striking her in the stomach until she loses her grip. He shoves her away and rises to one knee, coughing.
He grabs Summer by the ankle and yanks her off balance.
Summer falls hard into the water. Tommy scrambles on top of her and presses both hands against her shoulders, attempting to submerge her head. Summer's arms flail for a moment before she catches Tommy beneath the chin and drives a sharp blow upward.
Tommy recoils.
Summer uses the opening to push him away and get to her feet. She grabs him by the head, delivers a knee to the stomach, and follows with a hard right hand that sends him sprawling into the middle of the tub.
The water is already climbing past their knees.
TODD: Summer is finding her rhythm now! Tommy tried to take control early, but the champion is fighting her way back into this thing!
BAMA T: She better keep fighting! That water is getting deeper by the second, and neither one of these people is gonna win a swimming competition tonight!
Tommy pulls himself upright using the rim of the bathtub. Summer advances, but he catches her with a sudden kick to the ribs. He follows with a punch to the stomach, then grabs her around the neck and tries to force her downward.
Summer digs her feet into the floor and resists. Tommy leans harder, using his weight to push her backward. Her shoulders strike the wall, and he starts forcing her head toward the rising water.
Summer manages to plant a knee into Tommy's stomach.
He doubles over.
She grabs the back of his head and drives it into the rim of the bathtub. Tommy stumbles away, stunned. Summer follows with a clothesline that sends him splashing onto his back.
She drops down and tries to push his head beneath the water.
Tommy grabs her wrist. He twists hard, rolls onto his side, and drags her down with him. The two competitors disappear beneath the churning water for a moment, arms and legs thrashing wildly.
Summer surfaces first, gasping for air. Tommy emerges beside her, coughing and blinking water from his eyes.
Both competitors cling to the sides of the bathtub, trying to catch their breath.
TODD: This is becoming a desperate struggle for survival! Neither competitor can afford to stay underwater for long, and the water level is rising rapidly!
BAMA T: I SEE PEOPLE IN THE BACK LOOKING AROUND FOR FREDDY KRUEGER! IF THAT MAN SHOWS UP, I'M LEAVING THE BUILDING!
Tommy suddenly lunges forward and catches Summer with a vicious headbutt. The champion reels backward, clutching her face. Tommy grabs her by the shoulders and drives her against the wall again, then starts hammering her with punches.
Summer tries to cover up, but Tommy keeps swinging. He lands a heavy right hand that leaves her slumped against the side of the tub.
Tommy grabs her by the hair and pulls her forward.
He attempts to force her head underwater, but Summer catches his wrist and bites down on the hand holding her hair.
Tommy yelps and immediately lets go.
Summer shoves him away and slaps him across the face. She follows with a knee to the gut, then grabs his head and plants him with a DDT into the water.
The impact sends a huge splash over the edge.
Summer rises, breathing heavily, and looks toward the audience. She raises her fist, drawing a roar from the crowd as Tommy lies on his back.
She grabs his legs and drags him toward the deeper center of the tub.
Tommy suddenly sits up and catches her with a punch to the jaw. Summer staggers backward. He scrambles up and tries to seize her around the neck, but she ducks underneath and drives him into the wall with a shoulder tackle.
Tommy collapses into the water.
Summer raises her boot and stomps down across his chest.
TODD: The champion is absolutely relentless! Summer Page knows exactly what is at stake, and she is doing everything possible to put Tommy Wish away!
BAMA T: I'LL SAY THIS, TODD, SUMMER PAGE IS BUILT FOR A NIGHTMARE! TOMMY WISH IS GONNA NEED A MIRACLE!
Tommy drags himself upright, coughing and sputtering. He wipes water from his eyes and stares at Summer.
Then his expression changes.
His eyes drift downward.
Summer notices him staring at her feet.
Tommy slowly lowers himself onto his knees.
TODD: Uh... Tommy? What are you doing?
Tommy reaches toward Summer's ankle.
Summer steps backward, confused and disgusted. Tommy follows, crawling through the rising water with a strange grin spreading across his face. He grabs her foot with both hands and pulls it toward him.
BAMA T: OH, NO. NO, NO, NO! TOMMY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! THIS IS A CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH, YOU ABSOLUTE WEIRDO!
Tommy ignores the shouting from the commentary desk. He begins trying to sniff Summer's foot, looking completely oblivious to the fact that the water is now approaching his waist. He pulls her ankle closer and attempts to lick her toes.
Summer stares down at him in utter disbelief.
She tries to yank her foot free.
Tommy clings tighter.
TODD: I CANNOT BELIEVE WHAT I'M WATCHING! TOMMY WISH HAS COMPLETELY LOST FOCUS! HE IS TRYING TO SNIFF AND LICK THE CHAMPION'S FEET WHILE THE BATHTUB FILLS WITH WATER!
BAMA T: YOU ARE ABOUT TO DROWN, BROTHER! YOU ARE ABOUT TO BECOME A HUMAN PRUNE! AND YOU'RE DOWN THERE WORRYING ABOUT HER TOES?! GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME!
Tommy finally manages to pull Summer's foot toward his face again.
That is the last mistake he makes.
Summer's expression hardens. She plants her free foot against Tommy's shoulder and kicks him backward, wrenching her ankle out of his grasp. Tommy splashes onto his back, still reaching toward her as though he cannot comprehend why his advances have been rejected.
Summer steps toward him.
Tommy tries to rise onto his knees again.
Summer grabs him by the back of the head, hauls him upright, and drives a brutal knee into his face. Tommy slumps forward, dazed, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides.
Summer turns him around and positions him in the center of the tub.
TODD: SUMMER PAGE HAS HAD ENOUGH! TOMMY WISH HAS GIVEN HER EVERY REASON TO END THIS MATCH!
BAMA T: END IT, SUMMER! END IT NOW!
Summer plants her boot behind Tommy's head, grabs him around the neck, and CURBSTOMPS HIS FACE STRAIGHT INTO THE BOTTOM OF THE BATHTUB!
Tommy's face smashes against the floor. The impact sends water exploding around them. He collapses flat, stunned, and Summer immediately grabs him by the back of the head.
She forces his face beneath the water.
Tommy begins struggling. His hands slap against the bathtub floor as he tries to push himself up, but Summer keeps him down. He kicks his legs and twists his body, desperate to escape the champion's grip.
The water rises over his shoulders.
Summer shifts her weight and drives his head down again.
Tommy's frantic movements begin to slow.
TODD: TOMMY IS UNDERWATER! SUMMER IS HOLDING HIM DOWN!
BAMA T: REFEREE, GET IN THERE! SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING! WE NEED MEDICAL PERSONNEL STANDING BY RIGHT NOW!
The referee leans over the edge, shouting at Summer to release him. She holds Tommy down for another moment, then finally lets go and scrambles backward toward the side of the bathtub.
Tommy floats face-down in the water.
He does not move.
The referee immediately signals for the bell and climbs into the tub, grabbing Tommy by the shoulder and rolling him onto his back. Tommy's face breaks the surface, but he remains completely unresponsive.
DING! DING! DING!
| Winner and STILL Revolution Champion- Summer Page |
TODD: THE BELL HAS RUNG! SUMMER PAGE RETAINS THE REVOLUTION CHAMPIONSHIP! SUMMER PAGE HAS SURVIVED THE BATH-TUB OF HORROR!
BAMA T: FORGET THE CELEBRATION! WE NEED PARAMEDICS IN THERE RIGHT NOW! GET THE MEDICAL TEAM OUT HERE! DRAIN THAT TUB! SOMEBODY CHECK ON TOMMY WISH!
Officials rush toward the bathtub as the referee desperately tries to keep Tommy's head above the water. Medical personnel climb into the tub and immediately begin attending to him. One official pulls Summer toward the ropes while another reaches for the emergency drain.
Summer sits against the side of the tub, exhausted and shaken. The crowd roars as the referee raises her arm, confirming the result.
TODD: Summer Page has done it! She has retained the Revolution Championship in one of the most disturbing matches we've ever witnessed here on Anarchy!
BAMA T: SUMMER'S STILL CHAMPION, BUT WE NEED TO KNOW THAT TOMMY WISH IS GONNA BE OKAY! THIS IS A NIGHTMARE, TODD! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT THEY PROMISED US, AND I HATE EVERY SECOND OF IT!
The camera catches the medical team urgently working over Tommy as the bathtub drains. Summer Page clutches her Revolution Championship while officials clear the area and call for additional assistance.
The camera cuts to the Cockroach Motel..
The place is a monument to municipal neglect. The flickering neon sign outside has three functioning letters, spelling COC R A H, while something wet and unidentifiable drips from an air-conditioning unit onto a faded welcome mat. A shopping cart rests on its side beside a dumpster. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks, followed by a sound that might be another dog or might be a grown man having a terrible evening.
Inside, the hallway is narrow, the wallpaper is peeling, and the carpet has achieved a color that no manufacturer has ever willingly produced.
At the end of the corridor stands a room with a battered door and a rusted number six screwed into the wood.
Todd: "Welcome to the Cockroach Motel, everybody. Tonight, the rules are simple. There is no pinfall, no submission victory, no disqualification victory. To win, you have to get your opponent inside one of these motel rooms and lock the door."
Bama: "Todd, I have stayed in some questionable establishments in my time. I have slept in a truck stop bathroom because somebody stole my truck. I once spent three nights in a shed with a possum that I am fairly certain was plotting against me. But this place? This place looks like the possum would ask for a refund."
Todd: "The match is non-title, but there's no question that the Universal Champion, Micheal Graves, has a great deal at stake here. These two men were once allies in the Brotherhood of Bastards. That relationship has deteriorated badly since the group split."
Bama: "And now you've got the self-proclaimed God of the XWF against the man who looks at him and sees a bug. I don't know which one of these fellas is right, Todd, but I know this much: neither one of 'em is getting their security deposit back."
A church organ begins to play.
The hallway lights flicker.
And then a voice, amplified through speakers that sound like they're being fed through a meat grinder, booms across the motel grounds.
"MY CHILDREN!"
Mister Oz emerges from the far end of the corridor in his black-and-neon-green Ghost Tank gear. He spreads his arms wide, surveying the peeling wallpaper and the stained ceiling with the solemnity of a king surveying a conquered kingdom.
He actually smiles.
He raises one hand, and somewhere behind the camera, a small cluster of followers responds with enthusiastic applause.
Oz soaks it in.
TODD: "Mister Oz is certainly comfortable with an audience. He's built an entire following around the idea that he's something greater than an ordinary man."
BAMA: "He has a congregation, Todd. I have a congregation, too. It's three guys at the Waffle House who agree with me that the hash browns ought to be extra crispy. Difference is, my congregation doesn't think I can walk on water."
Oz turns toward the camera.
He pauses, looking at a cockroach scuttling across the wall.
He watches it for several seconds.
Then he crouches, extending one finger toward it.
The cockroach disappears into a crack.
Oz's smile vanishes.
He rises, turns toward the camera, and resumes his solemn expression.
He points toward Room Six.
He throws his arms wide.
…
The lights go out.
A distorted guitar riff erupts from the speakers, followed by the sound of a man laughing like he has just remembered the funniest thing anybody has ever done to a shopping cart.
The camera swings toward the entrance.
Micheal Graves walks into the hallway.
The Universal Championship is slung over his shoulder. His face is hidden behind his mask, and beneath the harsh motel lighting, the bruises and damage he's been carrying are difficult to miss. He looks tired. He looks sore. He looks like a man who has been sleeping badly and has developed a personal grudge against the concept of sleep itself.
He stops beside a vending machine.
Looks inside.
Shakes it.
A candy bar falls.
Graves retrieves it, examines the wrapper, and reads the expiration date.
He looks into the camera.
"Still good."
He pockets it.
Then he turns toward Oz.
He takes in the hallway, the carpeting, the peeling wallpaper, the rusted door hinges.
Oz stares at him.
Graves raises the championship slightly.
Oz's expression hardens.
Graves chuckles.
He looks at the camera again.
Oz's jaw tightens.
MICHEAL GRAVES ©
- vs -
MR. OZ
Cockroach Motel Match!
The only way to win this non-title match is by locking your opponent inside a room in the cockroach motel! |
Oz's right hand shoots forward, fingers spread, and clamps around Graves's throat.
Graves's grin disappears as Oz drives him backward into the wall hard enough to rattle a framed picture of a beach hanging crookedly above a fire extinguisher. The picture falls. The glass shatters around them.
Oz roars in his face.
"YOU WILL SHOW ME RESPECT!"
Graves grabs Oz's wrist with both hands, but Oz is already lifting him. The Universal Champion's boots leave the carpet, his back grinding against the wallpaper as Oz holds him up by the throat.
Todd: "Mister Oz is wasting absolutely no time! Graves came in casual, like this was an off night, and Oz has taken that personally!"
Bama: "Todd, I believe Oz would take a compliment personally if it wasn't delivered with the appropriate amount of kneeling!"
Graves drives a knee into Oz's ribs.
Once.
Twice.
On the third, Oz grunts, and Graves manages to get his feet underneath him. He swings a heavy-handed slap across Oz's face.
SMACK!
Oz's head turns.
Graves follows with another.
SMACK!
Then a third with a loud SMAAAAAAACK!
Bama: “That last one sounded less like a wrestling strike and more like my daddy discovering his brother Chachee was using the family credit card to buy fireworks!”
Oz slowly looks back at him.
Graves nods.
"Yeah. That's the spot."
Oz headbutts him.
Graves crumples.
Todd: "GOOD LORD! A headbutt from Oz just stopped Graves dead in his tracks!"
Bama: "That's what happens when you slap a man who thinks he's God, Todd! You get struck by the wrath of heaven! Or, in this case, the wrath of a very large forehead!"
Oz seizes Graves by the back of the neck and hurls him down the corridor. Graves hits the carpet, rolls onto his shoulder, and crashes into a housekeeping cart.
The cart tips over.
Sheets, towels, cleaning supplies, and a small collection of toiletries spill across the floor.
…Oz stares down at Graves, cracking his knuckles, ready to break his body…
When Graves barrels forward and plants a boot between Oz's shoulder blades!
Oz face-plants into the cart.
The metal frame collapses beneath him.
Graves grabs the back of Oz's head and slams it against the wall.
Once.
Twice.
On the third attempt, Oz catches the wall with his hands and drives an elbow backward into Graves's jaw.
Graves staggers.
Oz spins, catches him around the waist, and launches him with a fallaway-style throw that sends the champion crashing onto the reception desk.
The desk buckles.
A bell rings.
Neither man acknowledges it.
Oz climbs onto the wreckage and grabs Graves by the mask, dragging him upright.
Graves spits blood onto the carpet.
Oz punches him.
Graves answers with a backfist.
Oz answers with a big boot.
Graves falls backward through the flimsy office door, which breaks off one hinge and drops him into the tiny reception area.
A sign behind the counter reads:
| NO REFUNDS. NO EXCEPTIONS. NO EXCUSES. |
Graves lies beneath it, blinking.
He points upward.
"Finally. A fuckin' business with a policy I respect."
Oz stomps down on his chest.
Graves coughs, rolling to his side as Oz reaches down to pull him up again. This time, Graves catches Oz's arm, twists his body, and drives a short back elbow into his jaw.
Oz stumbles against the counter.
Graves scrambles to his feet and catches him with a headbutt of his own.
For a second, both men sway.
Then Graves hits a second headbutt.
Oz drops to one knee.
Graves grabs him by the hair.
He drives Oz face-first into the counter.
Todd: "Graves is turning this into exactly the kind of fight he wanted! He's not trying to outwrestle Oz. He's trying to hurt him!"
Bama: "And he's got plenty of motivation to do it! That Charlie Nickles business has got him walking around like a man with a lit firecracker in his pocket and no idea which end is the fuse!"
Graves drags Oz across the counter and attempts to lift him for the Grave Digger.
But Oz is too heavy to move cleanly in the cramped space.
Graves strains, gets Oz halfway up, and nearly loses his grip.
Oz slips behind him.
A sharp knee to the back.
Then Oz hooks Graves around the waist, hoists him into a delayed vertical suplex, and holds him suspended.
One squat.
Two.
Three.
Oz lowers himself again.
Four.
Five.
He rises, roaring, and drops Graves backward across the counter with a thunderous vertical suplex.
The wood splits.
Graves's body bounces against the wreckage.
Oz staggers away, chest heaving, and throws both arms wide.
"BEHOLD!"
He points toward the broken counter.
"BEHOLD THE POWER OF YOUR GOD!"
A door opens behind him.
An elderly motel guest, wearing a bathrobe and clutching a cup of coffee, peers into the reception area.
…Oz and Graves glance at her.
Both sets look at the other like they don’t know what the hell the other is doing there…
The woman sighs.
"Knew I should have stayed at the Motel 6."
She shuts the door.
Graves laughs.
It's a short, ugly laugh, immediately interrupted when Oz grabs him by the throat and drags him off the counter.
Oz hurls him through the doorway and into the hallway.
Graves crashes onto the carpet.
Oz follows, steps over him, and points toward Room Six.
Graves rolls onto his back.
Oz kicks him in the ribs.
Graves curls around the impact.
Oz grabs him by both ankles and begins dragging him toward the room. Graves claws at the carpet, leaving his fingers scraping through the fibers, trying to catch a seam or a piece of exposed flooring.
He reaches a housekeeping cart.
His fingers close around the handle.
He yanks.
The cart rolls backward, striking Oz in the knees.
Oz stumbles.
Graves pulls himself toward the cart, grabs a metal ice bucket from the top shelf, and hurls it.
The bucket catches Oz squarely in the forehead.
Oz drops the champion's legs.
Graves rolls away, gasping.
He rises with the help of the wall and grabs the ice bucket again.
Oz pushes himself upright.
Graves swings.
Oz ducks.
The bucket dents against the wall.
Oz grabs Graves around the waist, drives him backward, and lifts him into the air. With a tremendous heave, he presses Graves overhead in a gorilla press.
Graves kicks wildly, striking Oz in the shoulder and face.
Oz adjusts his grip.
For one terrible second, he seems ready to throw Graves through the ceiling.
Instead, he turns toward the hallway and launches the champion into a linen closet.
Graves crashes through the open door and disappears beneath a pile of towels.
The closet door slams shut.
Oz stands over it, breathing heavily.
He raises his hands.
The closet door explodes outward.
A towel-covered Graves launches himself at Oz like a particularly angry laundry pile.
He tackles Oz into the opposite wall, and both men go down in a tangle of limbs and fabric.
Graves emerges first, ripping towels away from his mask.
He grabs Oz's head and begins delivering trapping headbutts.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Oz's hands flail, trying to get leverage.
Graves keeps driving his forehead into Oz's face until Oz finally manages to shove him off.
They separate.
Graves wipes his mouth.
Oz wipes his nose.
They stare at each other.
Then Graves laughs again.
Oz charges.
Graves charges.
They collide in the middle of the hallway with a double clothesline that drops both men flat on their backs.
For a moment, neither moves.
The camera pans across the hallway.
A cockroach emerges from beneath the fallen housekeeping cart.
It pauses beside Oz's outstretched hand.
Then it crawls over his fingers.
Todd is silent.
Bama is silent.
The camera follows the insect as it disappears beneath the carpet.
Todd: "I don't even know what to say."
Bama: "I do. That cockroach is the only creature in this building that might get through tonight without getting punched in the face. And that makes it evolutionarily superior to either of these goons!"
The first man to move is Oz.
He rolls onto his side, pushes himself up with one arm, and staggers toward Graves. His expression has changed. The preacher's smile is gone. The theatrical grandiosity has given way to something more primal.
He looks at Graves as though the man has personally insulted every belief he has ever held.
Graves is trying to stand, one hand pressed against his ribs.
Oz grabs him by the shoulder.
Graves swings a weak punch.
Oz catches it.
Oz drives a knee into Graves's stomach, then hooks his arms around the champion's waist and throws him with a hip toss.
Graves lands hard.
Oz follows with a knee drop across his chest.
Then another.
And another.
He rises, throws his head back, and bellows.
He grabs Graves by the mask and pulls him upright.
He slams Graves into the wall.
Graves's head bounces against the wallpaper.
For the first time tonight, he doesn't immediately respond with a joke.
Oz notices.
He leans closer.
"WHERE'S THAT MOUTH NOW?"
Graves looks up at him.
He spits in Oz's face.
Oz freezes.
Graves grins.
”Still here.”
"Just needed you to shut the fuck up long enough to hear it."
Graves drives his forehead into Oz's nose.
Oz staggers backward, releasing him.
Graves follows with a heavy backfist, then a heart punch that lands squarely against Oz's chest.
Oz doubles over.
Graves grabs him around the waist, turns, and lifts.
The Grave Digger!
Oz crashes down onto the carpet with the full force of the Death Valley Driver.
Graves lands beside him, immediately rolling onto his back and sucking air through clenched teeth.
[blue]Todd: "GRAVE DIGGER! Graves has just planted Mister Oz with the Death Valley Driver!"
Bama: "And listen to that crowd! This is the first time all night Graves has managed to get Oz down without needing half the building to help him!"
Graves rolls onto his stomach and crawls toward Oz.
Oz rolls onto his side, coughing.
Graves grabs him by the head.
He drags Oz upright.
A slap.
Another slap.
Graves swings a third time.
Oz catches his wrist.
The champion's eyes widen.
Oz rises, slowly, pulling Graves toward him.
His other hand closes around Graves's throat.
Graves tries to pry the fingers loose.
Oz lifts him.
Not all the way overhead this time. Not cleanly. He has taken too much punishment for that. But he manages to hoist Graves high enough to drive him down with a brutal gorilla press gutbuster, folding the champion across his raised knee.
Graves rolls away, gasping.
Oz drops to one knee, exhausted.
The two men stare at one another from opposite sides of the hallway.
Neither looks particularly divine.
Neither looks particularly human.
Both look like they have spent the evening being dragged behind a truck.
Oz slowly rises.
He extends his arms.
"LOOK UPON ME!"
Graves pushes himself upright against the wall.
Oz points at him.
"LOOK UPON YOUR GOD!"
Graves looks at the ceiling.
Then back at Oz.
Oz's expression becomes murderous.
He charges.
Graves sidesteps.
Oz crashes shoulder-first into the wall.
Graves grabs him from behind and attempts to drag him down into a sleeper hold.
Oz immediately starts fighting the hands, twisting his shoulders and throwing elbows backward.
The first elbow catches Graves in the ribs.
The second misses.
The third connects with his jaw.
Graves refuses to release the hold.
He clamps down harder, dragging Oz backward and sinking his weight into him.
Oz staggers, stumbling sideways into a doorframe.
Graves squeezes.
Oz's face reddens.
He claws at Graves's forearms.
Graves leans close to his ear.
"That's it, big man."
He tightens the hold.
"Go on. Take a nap."
Oz slams his head backward into Graves's face.
Graves's grip loosens.
Oz drives backward again, smashing Graves into the wall.
Again.
Again.
On the fourth impact, Graves finally releases the hold.
Oz turns, grabs him by the shoulders, and drives him into the door of Room Six.
The wood rattles.
Graves swings a desperate elbow.
Oz absorbs it, hooks him around the waist, and lifts him into a body slam.
The champion crashes onto the carpet.
Oz stands over him.
He looks toward Room Six.
Then back at Graves.
Oz begins dragging Graves toward the room.
He pulls Graves toward the doorway.
Graves kicks at him, but Oz maintains his grip.
The door swings open.
Oz drags Graves over the threshold.
For a split second, it appears that the Universal Champion is about to lose his own match.
Then Graves grabs the doorframe with both hands.
Oz pulls.
Graves holds on.
Oz pulls harder.
Graves's fingers slip.
One hand releases.
Then the other.
But as Oz hauls him farther into the room, Graves reaches up and catches Oz by the collar.
He yanks.
Oz stumbles forward, off balance.
Graves twists his body, plants a foot against Oz's hip, and kicks him backward out of the doorway.
Oz crashes into the opposite wall.
Graves scrambles out of the room.
Both men collapse in the hallway.
Oz slowly rises.
His face is red with rage.
Graves is waiting for him.
And the Dark Warrior hits him with a spear.
The impact drives Oz backward into the wall. The plaster cracks. Oz's body folds around the blow, and Graves stays attached, driving forward with every ounce of strength he has left.
They crash to the carpet.
Graves rolls off him and lies there, chest heaving.
Oz is motionless.
Graves turns his head.
He looks at the fallen man.
Then at the door.
Then back at Oz.
His breathing slows.
He gets to his knees.
And he starts laughing.
Not the theatrical laughter from his entrance. Not the mocking chuckle he's used all night.
This is a tired, breathless, almost disbelieving laugh.
Graves crawls toward Oz.
He grabs Oz by the wrist and begins dragging him toward Room Six.
Oz's fingers twitch.
Graves doesn't notice.
He gets Oz halfway to the door before the larger man suddenly rolls onto his back and kicks Graves square in the chest.
Graves tumbles backward.
Oz rises to one knee.
He looks at Graves.
Then he looks at the room.
And then he roars.
He surges forward with a shoulder tackle that knocks Graves off his feet.
Graves crashes into the wall, and Oz follows with a big boot that catches him in the chest.
Graves slumps against the plaster.
Oz grabs him by the mask.
He pulls Graves upright.
He drives a headbutt into Graves's face.
Graves spits a mouthful of blood onto Oz's shirt.
Oz stops, momentarily shocked.
Graves drives a knee into Oz's stomach.
Then another.
He hooks Oz's arm, pivots, and delivers a short inverted DDT that drops the larger man onto the carpet.
Graves falls beside him.
Neither moves.
The referee looks down at them, then toward the open door.
The audience begins to chant.
"ROACH! ROACH! ROACH! ROACH!"
TODD: I don’t know even know what the fuck is going on, Bama.
Graves pushes himself upright, grabs Oz by the hair, and begins hauling him toward the housekeeping cart.
Oz is still conscious. Barely. His eyes are open, his teeth clenched, and every few seconds he tries to throw a punch that doesn't quite connect.
Graves drags him past the broken reception desk.
Past the scattered towels.
Past the ice bucket.
Up to the open doorway of Room Six…
…
When Oz suddenly surges upright, throwing a wild clothesline that catches Graves across the chest.
Graves stumbles backward.
Oz grabs him around the waist and drives him into the wall with a shoulder tackle. The impact shakes a ceiling light loose, and it swings overhead, casting the hallway into an intermittent rhythm of illumination and shadow.
Oz grabs Graves by the throat.
He lifts him.
He throws Graves into the wall again.
Graves slumps forward.
Oz catches him and drags him toward Room Six.
This time, the champion has no immediate answer. His arms hang loosely at his sides, and his boots drag across the carpet as Oz hauls him toward the doorway.
Oz reaches the room and kicks the door open.
He pulls Graves inside.
The crowd erupts.
Todd: "OZ IS GETTING HIM INTO THE ROOM! THIS COULD BE IT!"
Bama: "THE GOD HAS GOT HIM! THE GOD HAS GOT HIM!"
Oz throws Graves onto the bed.
The mattress collapses.
A cloud of dust erupts from the frame.
Oz stands over Graves, breathing heavily, and spreads his arms.
"BEHOLD!"
He points at the champion.
"BEHOLD THE POWER OF YOUR—"
Graves sits up.
He has a pillow in his hands.
He swings it.
The pillow strikes Oz directly in the face.
Oz freezes.
Graves swings again.
Oz staggers backward.
Graves throws the pillow at him, rolls off the broken bed, and lunges forward with a double-leg takedown that sends Oz crashing onto the floor.
Both men scramble.
Graves gets to his knees first and hammers Oz with a series of heavy-handed slaps.
Oz covers his face.
Graves grabs him by the hair.
SUH-MACK! Graves delivers another open-hand chop across Oz’s face!
TODD: Graves might be the stiffest striker in XWF history!
BAMA: That slap could break a cinderblock!
Graves grabs Oz's wrist, pulls him upright, and drives him backward into the wall.
Oz swings a backfist.
Graves ducks.
Oz's fist smashes into the plaster.
Graves catches him around the waist and drives him into the doorframe.
Then he hits him with a back elbow.
Then a headbutt.
Then a short, vicious bulldog that sends Oz face-first into the carpet.
Graves rolls him over and tries to lift him.
Oz resists.
Graves tries again.
Oz throws an elbow.
Graves ducks and catches the arm, wrenching it behind Oz's back. He drags Oz to his feet and drives him into the wall one more time.
Then Graves hooks both arms around Oz's waist.
He lifts.
The Grave Digger!
Oz twists in midair, dropping his weight and catching Graves with a knee to the ribs before the Death Valley Driver can be completed.
Graves staggers.
Oz grabs him around the throat.
For one final moment, the two men stand face-to-face.
Oz is bleeding. Graves is bleeding. Both are trembling with exhaustion.
…Both slowly rise!
Oz charges first!
But Graves twists, steps behind Oz, and drives a brutal back elbow into his jaw.
Oz staggers.
Graves hits him with a backfist.
Oz drops to one knee.
Graves grabs him around the waist and finally manages to lift him.
The Grave Digger!
Oz crashes onto the floor.
Graves falls beside him.
For several seconds, neither man moves.
FIGHT FOREVER! FIGHT FOREVER! FIGHT FOREVER!
TODD: These fans want this fight to last to eternity!
BAMA: Damn shame, because checkout is at 10 AM. And I get the vibe this place doesn’t do late checkouts!
Graves slowly rises off the hotel floor first…
Graves drops to his knees beside Oz…
He grabs Oz's wrist and begins dragging him toward the doorway.
One inch.
Two inches.
A foot.
Oz's body scrapes across the carpet.
Graves's face contorts with effort.
He pauses to catch his breath.
Then he resumes.
Finally, Oz's body slides across the threshold and into the room.
Graves releases him.
He lies on his back in the doorway, staring up at the ceiling.
A long, exhausted silence follows.
Then Oz moves.
His fingers curl.
His shoulders twitch.
He begins to rise.
Graves turns his head.
Oz pushes himself onto one knee.
Graves rolls over, grabs the edge of the door, and uses it to haul himself upright.
Oz staggers to his feet.
Oz raises his hands.
Graves raises his.
They move toward one another.
Oz throws a punch.
Graves blocks it.
Graves throws a punch.
Oz blocks it.
Oz swings a backfist.
Graves ducks.
Graves drives a knee into Oz's stomach.
Oz answers with a headbutt.
Graves stumbles backward into the hallway.
Oz follows.
Graves catches him with a desperate shoulder tackle that sends both men crashing through the doorway again.
They hit the floor in a heap.
Graves rolls on top of Oz and begins throwing punches.
Oz covers up.
Graves keeps hitting him.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Four.
Oz's face twists.
He shoves Graves off him.
He throws himself forward, grabbing Graves by the throat and driving him into the wall.
Graves struggles against the grip.
Oz lifts him.
Graves drives both thumbs into Oz's eyes.
Oz releases him with a howl.
Graves drops to the floor, rolls forward, and catches Oz's legs.
He yanks.
Oz falls backward, striking the floor hard.
Graves scrambles on top of him and locks in a sleeper hold.
Oz thrashes.
He claws at Graves's hands.
He tries to turn.
Graves tightens the hold and pulls him away from the doorway.
Oz reaches toward the threshold.
His fingers scrape against the carpet.
He is inches from the hallway.
Graves squeezes harder.
Oz's hand opens.
Closes.
Opens again.
Then, with a final surge of strength, Oz manages to get a foot underneath him and push himself upright.
Graves is still attached to his back.
Oz staggers to his feet, carrying the champion.
He slams backward into the wall.
Graves grunts but doesn't release the hold.
Oz does it again.
And again.
On the fourth impact, Graves's grip finally breaks.
Oz turns, swinging a wild clothesline.
Graves ducks.
He grabs Oz's wrist, pivots, and delivers a short, vicious pull of the arm that sends Oz stumbling into the room's bathroom doorway.
Oz catches himself against the sink.
Graves charges.
Oz turns.
Graves hits him with a spear.
Both men crash through the bathroom doorway.
The sink breaks.
Water sprays across the floor.
Oz falls onto his back, and Graves lands across him, clutching his ribs.
For a moment, the only sound is running water.
Then Graves slowly pushes himself upright.
Graves drags him out of the bathroom and across the floor.
Oz tries to fight back, but his movements are sluggish now. He reaches for the bedframe, catches it with one hand, and holds on.
Graves pulls.
The bedframe slides.
Oz pulls harder.
The bedframe collapses.
Graves falls backward.
Oz rolls onto his side.
They lie there for a moment, surrounded by broken furniture and shattered porcelain.
Graves turns his head.
Oz begins to laugh.
It's a horrible sound, rough and breathless, almost indistinguishable from a cough.
Graves looks at him.
He walks over to Oz.
Grabs him by the collar.
And hauls him to his feet.
Graves drives a knee into Oz's stomach.
Then another.
He hooks his arm around Oz's neck and drags him toward the bed.
Oz tries to resist.
Graves pulls harder.
Oz swings an elbow.
Graves ducks.
Oz swings again.
Graves catches the arm and twists, driving Oz forward into the wall.
Oz staggers.
Graves grabs him around the waist.
Lifts.
And delivers the Grave Digger a second time.
Oz crashes onto the floor.
Graves collapses beside him.
This time, Oz doesn't move.
Graves rolls onto his stomach and crawls toward the door.
He reaches the threshold.
Then he turns back.
He looks at Oz.
He looks at the broken room.
And finally, he looks at the lock.
Graves drags himself upright.
He staggers to the doorway, grabs the door with both hands, and pulls it wide open.
Then he turns around, walks back into the room, and grabs Oz by the wrist.
He drags him the final few feet across the carpet.
Oz's body slides over the threshold.
Graves pulls him entirely inside.
Then he stumbles back into the hallway.
He looks down at Oz.
For several seconds, he stands there, breathing heavily.
Then he reaches for the door.
Oz's eyes open.
He lunges forward, catching Graves by the wrist.
Graves yelps.
Oz drags himself toward the threshold, grabbing the doorframe with his free hand.
Graves tries to pull away.
Oz's fingers tighten.
The two men struggle at the doorway, each trying to drag the other across the threshold.
Oz gets one knee into the hallway.
Graves kicks him in the chest.
Oz falls backward.
Graves slams the door.
CLICK.
The lock engages.
For a moment, there is silence.
Then a tremendous crash comes from inside the room.
The door shakes.
Oz pounds against it.
Graves leans against the wall, eyes closed, barely able to stand.
Another crash.
Graves slides down the wall and sits on the carpet.
He looks at the camera.
He lifts one trembling hand and gives a lazy thumbs-up.
"Room service."
The referee checks the lock, then signals for the bell.
DING! DING! DING!
| Winner: ‘Dark Warrior’ Micheal Graves |
Todd: "HE DID IT! MICHEAL GRAVES HAS LOCKED MISTER OZ INSIDE ROOM SIX! THE DARK WARRIOR WINS THE COCKROACH MOTEL MATCH!"
Bama: "AND THE GOD HAS BEEN CHECKED INTO THE HOTEL, TODD! NO REFUNDS! NO EXCEPTIONS! NO EXCUSES!"
The crowd erupts.
Graves remains seated on the carpet, breathing heavily, his head resting against the wall.
He slowly rises, using the wall for support.
The Universal Championship lies a few feet away, abandoned in the hallway. Graves walks over to it, picks it up, and slings it over his shoulder.
Then he turns toward the door.
TODD: The final match of Nightmare on Anarchy was upon us! Five teams. Ten competitors. Two championship belts. One abandoned town with a history of nightmares, disappearances, and things that were better left sleeping.
BAMA T: The Anarchy Tag Team Championships have been taken somewhere into Springwood! Nobody knows precisely where! The competitors have been instructed to find the gold and escape the nightmare. The first team to locate the championships and successfully escape will win the match!
TODD: There’s just one problem, Bama…Freddy Krueger lives here!
JUPITER-SIZED JUNGLE JAMBOREE ©
- vs -
THE WOKE MIND VIRUS
- vs -
VITA VALENTEEN & DEACON ST. JOHN
- vs -
LIAM ROBERTS & SAVANNAH KNIGHTLEY
- vs -
MARISOL VILARO & A CLOWN OF HER CHOOSING
One, Two, Freddy's Coming for Your....ANARCHY TAG-TEAM TITLES!
Five teams enter the nightmare. Two championship belts await at the end. Only one team escapes with the gold. Whoever finds the gold AND escapes the nightmare wins! |
The five teams were scattered across the abandoned town, each starting at a different location. They had no way to communicate with one another. They had no maps, no reliable directions, and no guarantee that the streets would take them where they wanted to go.
Somewhere in Springwood, two championship belts waited in the dark.
Somewhere in Springwood, Freddy Krueger was waiting too.
TODD: Ladies and gentlemen, this is our main event! Five teams are scattered across Springwood, and the only way to win the Anarchy Tag Team Championships is to find the gold and escape!
BAMA T: Todd, I have spent my entire career around professional wrestling. I have seen steel cages, barbed wire, exploding rings, and men voluntarily getting into ambulances. I have never seen anything as stupid as sending ten wrestlers into a town where a nightmare murderer lives!
TODD: The reigning champions, Jupiter-Sized Jungle Jamboree, will be defending against The Woke Mind Virus, Vita Valenteen and Deacon St. John, Liam Roberts and Savannah Knightley, and Marisol Vilaro and Ironfist Clown!
BAMA T: And somewhere in this town, Freddy Krueger has two championship belts. I hope he likes wrestling because I have a feeling he's about to get a whole lot of it!
The cameras cut to five different locations.
At the abandoned Springwood High School, Liam Roberts and Savannah Knightley stood beneath a flickering fluorescent light, staring down a hallway lined with lockers.
At the Springwood Police Department, Centurion and Oleandyr searched through overturned desks and broken filing cabinets.
At the cemetery behind an old church, Vita Valenteen and Deacon St. John examined a set of fresh footprints in the dirt.
At the Springwood Carnival, Marisol Vilaro and Ironfist Clown stood beneath a broken carousel, surrounded by stuffed animals with inexplicably unsettling smiles.
And at the abandoned Springwood Zoo, Roger and Safari Stu stood in front of a sign reading:
DANGEROUS ANIMALS. DO NOT FEED.
Roger looked at the sign.
Roger: Stu, I have a question.
Safari Stu: Of course, Roger. An explorer must always be prepared to ask questions.
Roger: Do you think Freddy is an animal?
Safari Stu considered this.
Safari Stu: Technically, he is a human being who has suffered extensive burns and appears to possess supernatural abilities.
Roger nodded.
Roger: So he's a dangerous animal.
Safari Stu: That's a very simplistic interpretation.
Roger: Should we feed him?
Safari Stu: ABSOLUTELY NOT.
A loudspeaker crackled above them.
A distorted voice spoke from the darkness.
Freddy: Ready or not…
The zoo's gates slammed shut.
Freddy: Here I come, bitch!
The bell rang!
The nightmare begins!
Liam Roberts and Savannah Knightley had barely begun their search when the first bell rang.
The school bell.
It echoed through the empty hallways, reverberating from classroom to classroom. A series of doors opened by themselves, one after another, revealing dark rooms filled with abandoned desks.
Liam looked down the hallway.
Liam: I thought the match bell was the bell.
Savannah: Maybe it's a school bell.
Liam: I KNOW IT'S A SCHOOL BELL! WHY IS THERE A SCHOOL BELL?!
A loudspeaker crackled.
"Attention, students. Please report to the principal's office."
Savannah looked at Liam.
Savannah: We should go to the principal's office. Maybe there's a clue.
Liam stared at her.
Liam: You want to go to the principal's office in a haunted school?
Savannah: It is the only announcement we've had.
Liam: I'M NOT GETTING DETENTION IN A NIGHTMARE!
A classroom door creaked open beside them.
Inside, a television sat on the teacher's desk. Its screen flickered to life, displaying a grainy image of two championship belts sitting on a desk.
Liam and Savannah immediately rushed inside.
Savannah: THE BELTS!
Liam: WE FOUND THEM!
They reached the television.
Then the image changed.
The belts were now lying on the floor of a dark room. A gloved hand slowly reached into the frame and dragged them away.
The television went black.
A familiar laugh filled the classroom.
Savannah slowly turned toward the door.
Freddy Krueger stood in the hallway.
Liam looked at him.
Liam: That's a very convincing costume.
Freddy tilted his head.
Liam: Seriously, mate, the hat is a nice touch.
Freddy took a step forward.
Liam: I mean, the glove's a little much. You could probably get away with something less intimidating.
Savannah grabbed Liam's arm.
Savannah: STOP TALKING TO HIM!
Liam: I'M TRYING TO ESTABLISH A RAPPORT!
Freddy lunged through the doorway.
Liam and Savannah bolted.
They tore down the hallway, crashed through a set of double doors, and sprinted into the gymnasium. The basketball hoops swayed overhead despite the absence of wind. The floor was covered in scattered papers, broken chairs, and abandoned school uniforms.
Savannah pointed toward an emergency exit.
Savannah: THERE!
They rushed toward the door.
Liam pulled the handle.
Locked.
He tried again.
Liam: OPEN!
Savannah: IT'S LOCKED!
Liam: I KNOW IT'S LOCKED!
A scraping sound came from the other side of the gymnasium.
Freddy emerged from the bleachers.
Liam slowly released the door handle.
Liam: Savannah?
Savannah: What?
Liam: I think we're going to have to transfer schools.
Freddy sprinted.
Savannah screamed and ran left. Liam screamed and ran right. Freddy somehow appeared between them, sending both competitors crashing to the floor.
The camera cut away just as the gymnasium lights went out.
A basketball bounced once.
Twice.
Then the screen went black.
TODD: LIAM ROBERTS AND SAVANNAH KNIGHTLEY HAVE ALREADY ENCOUNTERED FREDDY KRUEGER! THEY ARE IN SERIOUS TROUBLE!
BAMA T: THEY WENT TO A HAUNTED SCHOOL, TODD! WHAT DID THEY EXPECT? A CAREER DAY?!
A moment later, the camera returned to the empty hallway.
A school locker slowly opened.
Inside, a hand reached out and pulled the door shut.
Liam and Savannah would not be seen again for the remainder of the match.
At the abandoned Springwood Police Department, Centurion was taking the situation considerably more seriously.
The veteran wrestler had spent years in the ring, weathering opponents who relied on brute force, underhanded tactics, and psychological warfare. He had learned to keep a clear head under pressure.
Tonight, he intended to apply those lessons.
Centurion crouched beside a desk and examined a stack of old reports.
Oleandyr searched a wall covered in photographs and missing-person posters.
Oleandyr: These reports all mention the same thing. People having nightmares before they disappear.
Centurion: Freddy's operating on familiar territory. We need to understand the environment before we move.
Oleandyr: There's something else.
Centurion joined her at the wall.
A photograph showed a young man standing beside a championship belt. His face had been scratched out.
Beneath the photograph was a handwritten note.
THE GOLD BELONGS TO THE ONE WHO WAKES.
Centurion studied it.
Centurion: That's our clue.
Oleandyr: Or a trap.
Centurion: Almost certainly a trap. We still need to follow it.
Oleandyr smiled.
Oleandyr: I like your optimism.
Centurion: It's not optimism. It's professional experience.
A telephone rang somewhere in the station.
Both wrestlers turned.
The sound came from an office at the end of the hall.
Centurion raised a finger to his lips, then moved toward the office. Oleandyr followed, keeping a few steps behind him.
The telephone rang again.
Centurion opened the door.
An old desk sat beneath a broken window. A black telephone rested on its surface.
The receiver lifted by itself.
Freddy's voice emerged from the speaker.
Freddy: Officer, I've got two suspects in the building.
Centurion grabbed the receiver.
Centurion: You have the wrong number.
He slammed it down.
The telephone immediately rang again.
Oleandyr shook her head.
Oleandyr: You know, that was probably the least effective way to deal with a supernatural murderer.
Centurion: I was hoping he'd respect the boundary.
The door slammed shut behind them.
The office lights flickered.
A shadow appeared against the wall, its long fingers stretching toward the ceiling.
Centurion turned just as Freddy emerged from the shadow itself.
The veteran reacted immediately, driving a sharp forearm into Freddy's jaw. Oleandyr followed with a kick to the ribs, then caught Freddy with a running knee that drove him back against the desk.
TODD: THE WOKE MIND VIRUS IS TAKING THE FIGHT TO FREDDY!
BAMA T: I DIDN’T KNOW THE LGBTQIA+ COMMUNITY HAD SUCH MASSIVE BALLS, TODD! I RESPECT IT!
Centurion seized Freddy by the wrist and twisted his arm, forcing the bladed glove away from them.
Centurion: MOVE!
Oleandyr darted past him, grabbed a chair, and smashed it across Freddy's back.
The chair broke apart.
Freddy barely moved.
He looked down at the splintered wood, then slowly raised his head.
Freddy: You two play rough…
Centurion shoved him through the office door.
Oleandyr followed with a clothesline that sent Freddy crashing into the hallway.
For the first time that night, Freddy actually stumbled.
TODD: CENTURION AND OLEANDYR ARE FIGHTING BACK! THEY'VE FOUND A WAY TO STAGGER FREDDY KRUEGER!
BAMA T: THAT'S WHAT EXPERIENCE AND TEAMWORK WILL DO FOR YOU, TODD! THEY'RE KEEPING THEIR HEADS, THEY'RE WORKING TOGETHER, AND THEY'RE NOT STANDING AROUND ASKING HIM ABOUT HIS HAT!
Centurion and Oleandyr pressed the advantage.
Centurion drove Freddy into a row of lockers, then hammered him with a series of heavy strikes. Oleandyr grabbed a metal baton from an abandoned security desk and swung it across Freddy's back.
Freddy dropped to one knee.
Oleandyr raised the baton again.
Freddy caught it.
His burned face slowly turned toward her.
Freddy: That's mine now, bitch!
He yanked the baton from her hands and snapped it in half.
Oleandyr stepped back.
Centurion charged.
Freddy sidestepped and sent the veteran crashing through a glass partition. Centurion landed among broken glass and overturned furniture, clutching his shoulder.
Oleandyr rushed to help him.
Oleandyr: Centurion!
Centurion pushed himself upright.
Centurion: I'm fine. Stay focused!
The hallway stretched.
The far wall began moving away from them, extending into an impossibly long corridor. Every door along the hall opened at once.
Inside each room stood another Freddy.
Dozens of burned faces watched them from the darkness.
Oleandyr stared.
Oleandyr: Centurion, tell me you see that.
Centurion: I see it.
Oleandyr: Great. I was hoping I was hallucinating.
The Freddys began laughing.
Then every copy disappeared except one.
The real Freddy stood behind Centurion.
Centurion turned too late.
Freddy's bladed glove slashed across the veteran's back. Centurion dropped to his knees, fighting to stay conscious as Freddy grabbed him by the collar and dragged him toward an open doorway.
Oleandyr charged, landing a desperate series of strikes against Freddy's head and shoulders.
Oleandyr: LET HIM GO!
She caught Freddy with a spinning kick that forced him to release Centurion.
For one glorious moment, she stood between her partner and the nightmare itself.
Centurion looked up at her.
Centurion: Get out of here!
Oleandyr: We're a team!
Centurion: And you're the one who can still win this! Find the belts!
Freddy rose behind him.
Centurion turned and threw himself at the monster, tackling him through the doorway.
The door slammed shut.
Oleandyr ran toward it and grabbed the handle.
It wouldn't move.
She pounded against the wood.
Oleandyr: CENTURION!
From the other side came the sound of a struggle.
Then a heavy impact.
Then silence.
A small piece of paper slid beneath the door.
Oleandyr picked it up.
It contained a single sentence.
EVERY HERO HAS A LAST NIGHT.
Oleandyr crumpled the paper in her fist.
Her eyes filled with fury.
Oleandyr: Fine.
She turned toward the darkness.
Oleandyr: I'll do it myself!
TODD: CENTURION HAS BEEN TAKEN OUT! OLEANDYR IS LEFT TO CONTINUE ALONE!
BAMA T: CENTURION JUST BOUGHT HIS PARTNER A CHANCE TO WIN THIS MATCH! THAT'S WHAT A TAG TEAM IS ABOUT! NOW OLEANDYR HAS TO MAKE IT COUNT!
Oleandyr took a deep breath, tightened her fists, and continued into the station's basement.
The door behind her slowly reopened.
The office was empty.
On the wall, written in fresh red paint, were the words:
NICE TRY.
At the Springwood Carnival, Marisol Vilaro and Ironfist Clown were having a very different experience.
Marisol was searching the abandoned prize booths for clues. Ironfist Clown was attempting to win a stuffed penguin from a carnival game.
He had already thrown three balls.
All three had missed.
HONK.
Marisol turned around.
Marisol: We are looking for the championships.
HONK.
Marisol: The championships. The gold. The reason we're here.
Ironfist Clown pointed at the penguin.
HONK.
Marisol: You cannot pin the penguin for the championships.
Ironfist Clown considered this, then slowly lowered his arm.
HONK.
Marisol resumed her search.
Behind them, the carousel began turning.
The horses rose and fell beneath a canopy of flickering lights. A warped calliope tune echoed through the carnival, growing louder with every rotation.
Marisol stopped.
Marisol: Tell me that's a recording.
Ironfist Clown turned toward the carousel.
HONK.
A painted clown sitting on one of the horses turned its head.
Its smile stretched from ear to ear.
Ironfist Clown stared at it.
The painted clown stared back.
Ironfist Clown slowly raised his enormous metal fist.
HONK.
Marisol grabbed his arm.
Marisol: NO. We are not fighting the carousel.
The painted clown began laughing.
Ironfist Clown's expression changed.
HONK.
Marisol: Oh, for the love of...
Freddy Krueger stepped out from behind the carousel!
He dragged his bladed glove along the ground, scattering sparks across the pavement.
Ironfist Clown moved in front of Marisol.
Freddy tilted his head.
Ironfist Clown raised his fist.
HONK.
Freddy stared at the clown's enormous metal hand.
Freddy: That's a big glove.
Ironfist Clown pointed at Freddy, then at his fist, then made a punching motion.
HONK. HONK.
TODD: IRONFIST CLOWN IS CHALLENGING FREDDY KRUEGER!
BAMA T: HE'S GOT A METAL FIST THE SIZE OF A MAILBOX, TODD! IF HE LANDS ONE CLEAN SHOT, FREDDY MIGHT NEED A NEW NIGHTMARE!
Ironfist Clown charged.
His metal fist connected with Freddy's chest, sending the nightmare killer crashing through the wooden wall of a ticket booth.
The booth collapsed.
Ironfist Clown threw both arms into the air.
HONK! HONK!
Marisol looked at him.
Marisol: Okay. That was actually pretty good.
Freddy emerged from the wreckage.
He brushed dust from his coat.
Freddy: My turn.
He vanished.
Ironfist Clown froze.
Marisol looked around.
Marisol: Where did he go?
A gloved hand appeared from beneath the carnival platform and seized Ironfist Clown by the ankle.
The clown was dragged off his feet.
He swung his massive fist wildly, smashing a row of lights and tearing a carousel horse from its pole.
HONK! HONK! HONK!
Freddy emerged behind him and drove him face-first into the platform.
Ironfist Clown rolled onto his back, trying to lift his enormous fist.
Freddy stomped down on the metal wrist.
The clown's eyes widened.
HONK.
Freddy struck him again.
The clown went limp.
His metal fist struck the pavement with a deafening CLANG.
Marisol stood frozen for a moment.
Then she charged.
She drove a forearm into Freddy's face, followed with a kick to the ribs, and caught him with a spinning backfist that sent him stumbling into the carousel.
Freddy snarled.
Marisol grabbed a wooden carnival mallet and swung it across his head.
The impact sent him staggering.
She swung again.
Freddy caught the mallet in his bladed glove and snapped the handle in half.
Marisol stared at the broken weapon.
Freddy smiled.
Marisol threw the remaining piece at his face and ran.
TODD: IRONFIST CLOWN HAS BEEN TAKEN OUT! MARISOL VILARO IS ALL ALONE!
BAMA T: THAT'S A TOUGH BREAK, TODD! BUT IRONFIST CLOWN DID SOME DAMAGE! HE HIT FREDDY SO HARD THAT I'M PRETTY SURE THE TICKET BOOTH IS NOW A PARKING LOT!
Marisol sprinted through the carnival, weaving between booths and broken rides.
Freddy followed at a leisurely pace.
She vaulted over a counter, grabbed a handful of darts from a game stall, and threw them at him.
Three struck his coat.
One hit his hat.
Freddy stopped.
He slowly removed the dart from the brim of his hat.
Freddy: You just ruined my hat, bitch!
Marisol smirked.
Marisol: You should see what I do to your face!
She charged again.
This time, she nearly caught him. She ducked beneath his glove, drove him into a wooden post, and landed a devastating knee to his jaw.
Freddy staggered backward.
Marisol seized a nearby chain and wrapped it around his wrist, pulling him into a spinning kick that sent him crashing into the side of the Ferris wheel.
The entire structure groaned.
Marisol took a step back, breathing heavily.
For the first time, Freddy looked genuinely annoyed.
Freddy: You are getting on my nerves!
Marisol: Good.
She yanked the chain.
Freddy stumbled forward.
Marisol struck him with a running knee.
He dropped to one knee.
Marisol grabbed his hat and threw it into a nearby dunk tank.
Freddy looked at the floating hat.
Then he looked at Marisol.
A long silence followed.
Marisol: Worth it.
Freddy rose.
The lights went out.
When they returned, the entire carnival had changed.
The rides were gone.
The booths were gone.
Marisol stood in the middle of a school hallway.
Freddy stood at the far end.
The walls were lined with lockers.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
Marisol slowly looked around.
Marisol: Oh, you've got to be kidding me!
Freddy raised his glove.
Marisol charged anyway.
She fought with everything she had, landing strikes and kicks that would have finished an ordinary opponent. She drove Freddy into a locker, sent him crashing through a classroom door, and followed him inside.
But every time she landed a blow, the room changed.
The classroom became a hospital.
The hospital became a bedroom.
The bedroom became a carnival.
Freddy was everywhere.
Finally, he caught her wrist and pulled her into a dark doorway.
Marisol planted her feet and fought to break free.
Marisol: I'M NOT DONE!
Freddy leaned close.
Freddy: Everybody says that.
The doorway slammed shut.
The carnival lights died.
Marisol Vilaro was gone.
Vita Valenteen and Deacon St. John had made considerably better progress.
The pair stood in the cemetery behind Springwood's abandoned church, studying the fresh footprints they had discovered earlier.
Vita crouched beside a patch of disturbed earth.
Vita: These are recent.
Deacon: How recent?
Vita: Recent enough that whoever made them wanted us to find them.
Deacon looked toward the church.
Its doors stood open.
A pale light glowed inside.
Deacon: Then that's where we're going.
Vita rose slowly.
Vita: You know, most people would consider entering an abandoned church in a haunted town to be a terrible idea.
Deacon: Most people don't have a vampire watching their back.
Vita smiled.
Vita: Careful. I might start liking you.
Deacon: That would be a terrible idea too.
They entered the church.
The pews were covered in dust. The stained-glass windows had been shattered, leaving jagged pieces of colored glass scattered across the floor. At the far end of the sanctuary stood an enormous wooden cross.
Beneath it sat a small wooden box.
Vita approached cautiously.
Inside the box lay a photograph of the Anarchy Tag Team Championships.
Beneath the photograph was a key.
Deacon picked it up.
Deacon: We're getting close.
Vita: Too close, perhaps.
A bell rang overhead.
Both looked up.
The church bell began ringing faster.
The cross at the far end of the sanctuary slowly turned upside down.
A voice whispered from the pulpit.
Freddy: Amen.
Deacon immediately raised his fists.
Freddy appeared behind the altar.
Vita's expression changed.
Vita: There you are.
Freddy smiled.
Freddy: The vampire and the gentleman. I was wondering when you'd show up.
Deacon stepped forward.
Deacon: We're taking the belts.
Freddy looked at Vita.
Freddy: And what does she want?
Vita smiled, revealing her fangs.
Vita: Dinner.
The fight began!
Deacon charged first, driving Freddy backward with a series of powerful strikes. Vita moved with supernatural speed, appearing at Freddy's flank and striking him before he could turn.
They worked together with frightening precision.
Deacon controlled the center of the room, forcing Freddy to defend against his heavier attacks. Vita attacked from the sides, darting in and out of range and using her speed to avoid the bladed glove.
Freddy slashed at her.
She vanished into a cloud of shadows.
He turned toward Deacon.
Deacon caught him with a clothesline that sent him crashing through a pew.
The wooden bench shattered.
TODD: VITA VALENTEEN AND DEACON ST. JOHN ARE WORKING BEAUTIFULLY TOGETHER! THEY'VE GOT FREDDY ON THE BACK FOOT!
BAMA T: THIS IS THE TEAM TO BEAT, TODD! I’VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU THAT FROM THE BEGINNING!
TODD: NO YOU HAVEN’T!
Freddy rose from the wreckage.
But Vita was already behind him.
She seized his shoulders and sank her fangs into his neck.
Freddy screamed.
The sound rattled the stained-glass windows.
For a moment, Vita held him in place while Deacon delivered a devastating strike to his ribs. Freddy staggered away, clutching his neck.
Vita wiped her mouth.
Vita: You taste terrible!
Freddy stared at her.
Freddy: You have no idea what I’m going to put you through tonight, little girl!
Vita smiled.
Vita: I've lived through worse.
Freddy's expression changed.
The church lights went out.
A heavy silence settled over the sanctuary.
When the lights returned, the pews were filled with people.
Dozens of them.
Their faces were pale, their eyes closed, and their hands folded in their laps. They sat perfectly still, dressed in clothes from different decades.
Deacon looked around.
Deacon: Vita?
Vita studied the congregation.
Vita: They're dead.
One by one, the figures opened their eyes.
Every face was Vita's.
The vampire stared at the congregation, her expression tightening.
A little girl in the front pew stood up.
Girl: You left us.
Vita took a step back.
Girl: You left us all alone. You didn’t save us.
The church doors slammed shut.
Deacon moved toward Vita, but the floor stretched beneath his feet. The pews receded into the darkness, separating them by an impossible distance.
Deacon: VITA!
Vita lunged toward him.
Freddy appeared between them.
He caught Deacon with a vicious slash, then drove him into the altar. The wooden structure cracked beneath the impact.
Vita screamed and attacked.
She moved faster than ever, striking Freddy from every direction. She caught him with a spinning kick, drove him through a stained-glass window, and followed him into the cemetery.
Deacon struggled to his feet and joined her.
Together, they forced Freddy backward across the graveyard.
Deacon smashed a tombstone against Freddy's back.
Vita swept his legs out from under him.
Freddy crashed into the dirt.
For a moment, he lay still.
The two wrestlers exchanged a look.
Deacon: I think we've got him!
Vita looked down at Freddy.
Vita: Never say that in a horror movie…
Then the ground beneath them began to tremble.
Every grave in the cemetery opened.
Hands reached out of the earth.
Deacon backed away as the dead crawled from their graves, surrounding the pair.
Vita snarled and attacked the nearest figure, tearing through the illusion with a flurry of strikes.
Deacon fought beside her, knocking the creatures back one after another.
They were holding their own.
Then the cemetery split open.
A massive black staircase descended beneath the earth, leading into a darkness that seemed to have no bottom.
At the bottom of the stairs, two championship belts gleamed beneath a single spotlight.
The Anarchy Tag Team Championships!
Deacon stared.
Deacon: There they are.
Vita looked down the staircase.
Vita: It's a trap.
Deacon: Obviously.
Vita: We're still going down there, aren't we?
Deacon smiled.
Deacon: Obviously.
They descended.
The staircase stretched farther than it should have. The walls were covered in photographs of former Anarchy Tag Team Champions. Some smiled. Some screamed. Some had their eyes scratched out.
At the bottom, the two belts rested on a stone pedestal.
Deacon reached for them.
Vita caught his wrist.
Vita: Wait!
The air was unnaturally cold.
The pedestal stood in the middle of a small bedroom.
A child's bed.
A toy chest.
A night-light shaped like a crescent moon.
Vita stared at the room.
Vita: This isn't a cemetery.
Deacon turned toward her.
Deacon: What is it?
A voice answered from beneath the bed.
Freddy: Home.
The floorboards split apart.
Freddy erupted from beneath the bed, slashing at Deacon and sending him crashing into the wall. Vita attacked immediately, driving Freddy backward with a series of brutal strikes.
She seized his wrist and twisted until the bladed glove clattered to the floor.
Vita: You should have stayed buried!
Freddy smiled.
Freddy: I don't sleep alone.
The bedroom door opened.
Beyond it stood an endless hallway filled with sleeping figures: the countless souls Freddy had claimed.
She froze.
Freddy seized her by the throat.
Deacon tried to rise, but the walls folded inward, trapping him beneath a collapsing mass of wood and plaster.
Vita fought to break free.
Her fangs bared.
Her hands clawed at Freddy's wrist.
She nearly tore herself loose.
Nearly.
Freddy leaned toward her.
Freddy: Sweet dreams, bitch!
Then the room went black.
At the Springwood Zoo, Roger and Safari Stu had made almost no progress.
They had searched the reptile house, the bird enclosure, the gift shop, and a small administrative building that contained nothing except a broken vending machine and a framed photograph of a smiling zookeeper.
Roger had tried to purchase a bag of chips from the vending machine.
The machine had taken his money.
Roger was furious.
Roger: THIS IS THE WORST ZOO I'VE EVER BEEN TO!
Safari Stu: Roger, we are being hunted by a supernatural murderer. The vending machine is not our primary concern.
Roger: IT STOLE MY MONEY!
Safari Stu: The murderer is trying to kill us.
Roger: HE CAN'T HAVE MY MONEY TOO!
Safari Stu took a deep breath.
Safari Stu: We need to locate the championships. The clue must be somewhere nearby.
Roger pointed toward the reptile house.
Roger: What about in there?
Safari Stu: Too dangerous.
Roger pointed toward the bird enclosure.
Roger: What about in there?
Safari Stu: Too exposed.
Roger pointed toward the gift shop.
Roger: What about in there?
Safari Stu: Too obvious.
Roger looked at him.
Roger: Stu, I think you just don't want to go anywhere.
Safari Stu straightened his hat.
Safari Stu: I am an experienced explorer. I have faced countless dangers in my career!
A loud crash echoed from the reptile house.
Safari Stu flinched.
Roger flinched harder.
Roger: WHAT WAS THAT?!
Safari Stu: Probably a large animal.
Roger: WHAT KIND?!
Safari Stu: A large one!
They ran.
They sprinted through the zoo's central courtyard, passed a statue of a gorilla, and ducked into a small maintenance shed.
Safari Stu slammed the door behind them.
Roger collapsed against the wall, gasping for breath.
Roger: We're safe.
Safari Stu: For the moment.
A loudspeaker crackled overhead.
Freddy: Safari Stu.
Both champions froze.
Freddy: Roger.
Roger slowly looked at Safari Stu.
Roger: He knows both our names.
Safari Stu: Yes.
Roger: Does that mean we're famous?
Safari Stu: No, Roger. It means he's hunting us.
Roger looked toward the door.
Roger: I liked it better when I thought we were famous.
A metal scraping sound moved across the outside wall.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The shed's single light flickered.
A shadow appeared beneath the door.
Then another.
Then a hand slid underneath the gap.
Roger screamed and jumped onto Safari Stu's back.
Safari Stu screamed and tried to shake him off.
Safari Stu: GET OFF ME!
Roger: HE'S GOT A HAND!
Safari Stu: I CAN SEE THE HAND!
Roger: IT'S A VERY BAD HAND!
The fingers curled around the bottom of the door.
The door began to open.
Safari Stu grabbed a shovel from the wall and raised it like a weapon.
Roger snatched a plastic bucket and placed it over his own head.
Safari Stu stared at him.
Safari Stu: What are you doing?
Roger: ARMOR!
The door swung open.
A house cat walked into the shed.
Both men screamed.
The cat looked at them with profound contempt.
Then it walked away.
Roger slowly removed the bucket.
Roger: Stu?
Safari Stu: Yes?
Roger: I think we need to get out of this zoo.
Safari Stu: For once, Roger, I completely agree.
They slipped out of the shed and hurried toward the zoo's main gate.
The gate stood wide open.
Beyond it stretched a dark street lined with abandoned cars.
Roger looked at the street.
Roger: Freedom.
Safari Stu peered into the darkness.
Safari Stu: Wait.
Roger: What?
Safari Stu pointed toward the ground.
A trail of muddy footprints led from the zoo gate into the street.
Beside them were three long scratches in the pavement.
Safari Stu crouched.
Safari Stu: These are Freddy's tracks.
Roger stared at the scratches.
Roger: He walks on the ground?
Safari Stu: Yes.
Roger: I thought he floated.
Safari Stu: Why would he float?
Roger: Because he's Freddy Krueger!
Safari Stu stood.
Safari Stu: Roger, listen to me. We need to think like predators. We need to anticipate his movements, track his habits, and use our environment to our advantage.
Roger nodded solemnly.
Roger: Understood.
Safari Stu: We are going to move quietly through the streets, keeping to the shadows.
Roger nodded again.
Safari Stu: And if we encounter Freddy, we will not panic.
Roger nodded a third time.
Safari Stu took a step into the street.
A distant laugh echoed through the darkness.
Roger screamed and sprinted in the opposite direction.
Safari Stu watched him go.
Safari Stu: ROGER!
Roger: I'M USING MY ENVIRONMENT!
Safari Stu: THAT IS NOT WHAT THAT MEANS!
Safari Stu chased after his partner.
TODD: THE JUNGLE JAMBOREE ARE HAVING A DIFFICULT TIME NAVIGATING SPRINGWOOD!
BAMA T: DIFFICULT TIME?! TODD, THEY'VE SPENT THE LAST TEN MINUTES LOSING FIGHTS TO HOUSE CATS, VENDING MACHINES, AND THEIR OWN IMAGINATIONS!
The camera followed Roger as he sprinted down the street.
He turned a corner.
Then another.
Then another.
He passed a boarded-up grocery store, an abandoned playground, and a battered yellow school bus.
Finally, he stopped to catch his breath.
Roger: Okay. Okay. I'm safe.
A television inside the school bus flickered to life.
Freddy appeared on the screen.
Freddy: Found you, bitch!
Roger screamed so loudly that a flock of birds erupted from the trees.
He ran again.
Somewhere behind him, Safari Stu was shouting his name.
Somewhere farther away, Freddy was laughing.
And somewhere in the town, the Anarchy Tag-Team Championships waited to be claimed.
The nightmare had begun to consume Springwood.
The abandoned streets twisted into impossible shapes. Buildings appeared where there had been empty lots. Streetlights flickered in patterns that seemed to spell out words. Every telephone rang at once, and every television displayed the same image of two championship belts sitting on a stone pedestal.
The belts were moving.
They appeared in the windows of abandoned houses, in the reflections of broken mirrors, and in the puddles that collected beneath the streetlights.
Every time a wrestler approached them, they disappeared.
Oleandyr emerged from the basement of the police station with a split lip and a determined expression.
Marisol Vilaro stumbled out of a dark alleyway, bruised and breathing heavily.
Neither knew where the others had been.
Neither knew how many competitors remained.
They found each other beneath a streetlight at the center of Springwood.
Oleandyr looked at Marisol.
Oleandyr: You look terrible.
Marisol: You should see the other guy.
Oleandyr: Freddy?
Marisol: Freddy.
Oleandyr nodded.
Oleandyr: Same.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then a laugh echoed from the street behind them.
Freddy emerged from the fog.
Marisol sighed.
Marisol: Of course.
Oleandyr stepped forward.
Oleandyr: Together?
Marisol raised her fists.
Marisol: Together.
They attacked!
TODD: Marisol and Oleandyr are teaming up against Freddy now!
BAMA T: If Oleandyr can survive tonight, she might just be in line for a job at VILAROCORP now!
Oleandyr struck first, driving a kick into Freddy's midsection. Marisol followed with a forearm to the jaw, then grabbed Freddy by the collar and threw him against an abandoned car.
Oleandyr rushed in with a running knee.
Marisol swept his legs out from under him.
Freddy crashed onto the pavement.
The two wrestlers exchanged a quick look.
Marisol: We might actually do this.
Oleandyr: Don't say that.
Marisol: Why?
Oleandyr: Because every time somebody says that, he gets back up!
Freddy slowly rose behind them.
Marisol closed her eyes.
Marisol: I hate horror movies!
Freddy lunged.
The two women split apart, avoiding his glove by inches. Oleandyr caught his arm and twisted it behind his back while Marisol drove a series of strikes into his ribs.
For a few seconds, they had him.
Then the street began to stretch.
The cars pulled away from one another. The buildings rose higher and higher. The streetlights vanished into the clouds.
Marisol looked around.
Marisol: Oh, no…
Oleandyr tightened her grip on Freddy's arm.
Oleandyr: Keep fighting!
The pavement split beneath them.
A deep chasm opened in the center of the road, revealing an endless staircase descending into darkness.
Freddy twisted free.
He shoved Oleandyr toward the edge, then struck Marisol with the back of his hand.
Both women stumbled.
Marisol caught herself at the last second, grabbing the edge of the pavement.
Oleandyr reached for her.
Oleandyr: TAKE MY HAND!
Marisol grabbed her wrist.
For a moment, they held on.
Freddy stepped toward them.
His bladed glove scraped against the asphalt.
Marisol looked up at him.
Marisol: You know what your problem is?
Freddy tilted his head.
Marisol: You talk too much!
She swung herself upward and kicked him square in the chest!
Freddy staggered backward!
Oleandyr pulled Marisol to safety.
They scrambled to their feet and charged again.
But Freddy had already vanished.
The street went dark.
A moment later, a heavy impact echoed through the chasm.
Marisol and Oleandyr disappeared into the nightmare!
TODD: MARISOL VILARO AND OLEANDYR HAVE FOUGHT WITH EVERYTHING THEY HAVE! THEY CAME SO CLOSE!
BAMA T: THEY DIDN'T GIVE UP, TODD! THAT'S WHAT MATTERS! BUT THIS TOWN IS CHEATING! THE ROADS ARE MOVING, THE BUILDINGS ARE MOVING, AND I'M PRETTY SURE THE MOON HAS BEEN REPLACED BY A GIANT EYEBALL!
The camera tilted upward.
Above Springwood, the moon had become an enormous human eye.
It blinked.
The entire town shuddered.
Safari Stu had finally found something useful.
He stood inside an abandoned hardware store, studying a map of Springwood spread across the counter. The map was old and stained, but a red circle had been drawn around a building on the outskirts of town.
The Springwood Dream Center.
Safari Stu tapped the map.
Safari Stu: Roger, this is it.
No answer.
Safari Stu turned around.
Roger was gone.
Safari Stu closed his eyes.
Safari Stu: Of course.
He looked toward the door.
Outside, the streetlights flickered in the fog.
Safari Stu took the map, tucked it into his jacket, and headed out alone.
He moved cautiously through the streets, following the red circle toward the Dream Center. Along the way, he passed overturned cars, broken shop windows, and strange objects scattered across the pavement.
A wooden mallet.
A metal baton snapped in half.
A battered police badge.
A single carnival ticket.
He recognized them.
The others had been here.
He was too late to help them.
But he could still find the championships.
Safari Stu pressed forward.
At the end of the street stood the Dream Center.
Its front doors were open.
Inside, the building was filled with beds.
Hundreds of them.
Each bed contained a sleeping person.
Some wore wrestling gear.
Some wore ordinary clothes.
Some had faces Safari Stu recognized. Vita, Deacon, Savannah, Marisol, and more were all laying there dead asleep!
He stepped between the beds, searching for the championship belts.
At the far end of the room, he saw a familiar hat.
Freddy's hat.
It rested on a chair beside a bed.
Safari Stu stopped.
A voice spoke from behind him.
Freddy: Looking for something?
Safari Stu spun around.
Freddy stood in the doorway.
Safari Stu swallowed.
Safari Stu: I'm looking for the Anarchy Tag Team Championships…
Freddy smiled.
Freddy: Everybody in this town is.
Safari Stu slowly raised his fists.
Safari Stu: Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to stop me.
Freddy looked him up and down.
Freddy: You?
Safari Stu nodded.
Freddy began laughing.
Safari Stu charged.
The two collided in the center of the room. Safari Stu fought with the determination of a man who had finally found something he understood: a physical opponent he could hit.
He drove Freddy into a bedframe, then caught him with a running shoulder tackle that sent him crashing across the floor.
Safari Stu grabbed a pillow and swung it at Freddy's head.
Freddy caught it.
He stared at the pillow.
Safari Stu stared at Freddy.
Safari Stu: Improvised weapon.
Freddy slowly tore the pillow open.
Feathers filled the air.
Freddy smiled.
Freddy: That's adorable.
He struck.
Safari Stu was driven backward into a row of beds. He tried to recover, but Freddy caught him by the throat and lifted him off the ground.
Safari Stu kicked and struggled.
Freddy leaned close.
Freddy: You're going to sleep now!
Safari Stu's eyes widened.
He grabbed Freddy's wrist and twisted with all his strength.
For a moment, he broke free.
He landed on his feet and sprinted toward the exit.
Freddy followed.
Safari Stu burst into the street and ran blindly through the fog.
He turned left.
Then right.
Then left again.
The streets twisted around him, rearranging themselves as he ran.
He passed the same abandoned car three times.
He passed the same broken streetlight twice.
He passed a sign reading WELCOME TO SPRINGWOOD so many times that he eventually stopped looking at it.
Safari Stu stumbled into an alleyway and collapsed against a wall.
He gasped for breath.
Safari Stu: Roger...
No answer.
Safari Stu: Roger, where are you?!?!
A small voice spoke from the darkness.
Roger: Stu?
Safari Stu's head snapped up.
Safari Stu: ROGER!
He rushed toward the sound.
But the alleyway stretched endlessly before him.
Roger's voice faded into the distance.
Roger: Stu? I think I found something!
Safari Stu sprinted forward.
Safari Stu: WHAT DID YOU FIND?!
Roger: I DON'T KNOW! BUT IT'S SHINY!
Safari Stu ran harder.
Safari Stu: ROGER, WAIT FOR ME!
The alleyway twisted.
The walls rose.
The ground dropped away.
Safari Stu stumbled into darkness.
His voice echoed through the streets.
Then it was gone.
Roger had absolutely no idea where he was.
He had been running for what felt like hours. Every street led to another street. Every door opened into a different room. Every time he thought he had escaped, Freddy appeared somewhere behind him.
Eventually, Roger found himself standing outside a small house at the end of a quiet street.
The house looked ordinary.
It had a white picket fence, a small front garden, and a porch light that glowed warmly in the darkness.
A welcome mat sat in front of the door.
It read:
GO AWAY.
Roger stared at it.
Roger: That's a very rude welcome mat.
He knocked on the door.
Nobody answered.
He knocked again.
The door swung open by itself.
Inside, the house was warm and brightly lit. A television played quietly in the living room. A bowl of fruit sat on the kitchen counter. A pair of slippers rested beside the stairs.
Roger stepped inside.
Roger: Hello?
No answer.
He closed the door behind him.
For the first time all night, there was no screaming, no laughter, and no sound of blades scraping against the pavement.
Roger sighed with relief.
Roger: Finally. A normal house.
He wandered into the living room.
A television sat on a small table, displaying a wrestling program. The screen showed a replay of Jupiter-Sized Jungle Jamboree winning the Anarchy Tag Team Championships.
Roger smiled.
Roger: Hey! That's us!
The television flickered.
The image changed.
Now it showed Roger standing in the same living room.
He was staring at the television.
Roger slowly looked behind himself.
Nothing.
He looked back at the screen.
The Roger on the television turned toward the camera.
Television Roger: Roger, don't go upstairs.
Roger stared.
Roger: Why?
Television Roger: Because he's up there.
Roger slowly looked toward the staircase.
A floorboard creaked.
Roger looked back at the television.
The screen went black.
Roger took one step backward.
Roger: I don't think I want to be here anymore.
A familiar laugh echoed from upstairs.
Roger turned toward the front door.
It had disappeared.
The wall where the door had been was covered in photographs of Freddy Krueger.
Roger screamed.
He ran toward the kitchen.
The back door was gone too.
He sprinted into the living room and grabbed a lamp.
Roger: I HAVE A WEAPON!
The lamp flickered.
The light went out.
A burned hand reached around the corner.
Roger threw the lamp and ran upstairs.
TODD: ROGER HAS FOUND HIMSELF INSIDE A HOUSE IN SPRINGWOOD! WE HAVE NO IDEA WHERE HE IS, AND HE APPEARS TO BE COMPLETELY ALONE!
BAMA T: ROGER HAS SPENT THIS ENTIRE MATCH RUNNING AWAY FROM FREDDY KRUEGER! IF HE WINS THESE CHAMPIONSHIPS, HE WILL BE THE MOST ACCIDENTALLY SUCCESSFUL WRESTLER IN TAG-TEAM HISTORY!
Roger reached the top of the stairs and stumbled into a bedroom.
A small bed sat against the wall.
A bedside table stood beside it.
And resting on the bed were two familiar objects.
The Anarchy Tag Team Championships!
Roger stopped breathing.
He approached slowly.
The gold gleamed beneath the bedside lamp.
The leather straps were intact.
The plates were polished.
The championship logos were unmistakable.
Roger reached out and touched one belt.
It was real.
He grabbed both championships and hugged them against his chest.
Roger: I FOUND THEM!
A floorboard creaked behind him.
Roger slowly turned.
Freddy stood in the doorway.
His hat was tilted over his burned face. His bladed glove hung at his side.
He looked at the championships.
Then at Roger.
Then back at the championships.
Freddy: Those belong to me now.
Roger clutched the belts tighter.
Roger: I don't think so.
Freddy stepped into the room.
Roger backed toward the bed.
Freddy: You don't even understand where you are.
Roger: I don't understand where I am most of the time!
Freddy took another step.
The bedroom door slammed shut.
The wallpaper began to peel away, revealing scorched brick beneath it. The bedside lamp flickered. The bed stretched into the darkness, growing longer and longer until its far end disappeared beyond the walls of the room.
Freddy raised his bladed glove.
Freddy: Nobody leaves Springwood alive. Nobody.
Roger stared at him.
For once, he had nothing funny to say.
Freddy lunged.
Roger squeezed his eyes shut and screamed.
Roger: I WANT TO GO HOME!
Silence.
No blades.
No laughter.
No footsteps.
Roger opened one eye.
He was lying in bed.
His own bed.
Morning sunlight streamed through the curtains.
His bedroom was quiet. His pillow was soft. His blankets were warm.
And lying across his chest were the Anarchy Tag Team Championships.
Roger stared at them.
He sat up.
He checked the room.
His wardrobe was there. His bedside table was there. His slippers were where he had left them.
Everything was normal.
Roger looked down at the championships again.
Roger: I WON!
He jumped out of bed, raised both belts above his head, and began dancing around the room.
Roger: I WON! I WON! I WON!
He spun in a circle.
He tripped over his slippers.
He fell onto the bed.
The belts landed on his stomach.
Roger looked at them.
Then he started laughing.
Roger: STU! WE DID IT!
No answer.
Roger paused.
He looked around the bedroom.
Roger: Stu?
Silence.
Roger frowned.
Then he shrugged, raised the championships again, and smiled.
Roger: He'll be so happy when he finds out.
The camera pulled back through the bedroom window, drifting away from the house and into the pale morning sky.
For one brief moment, everything looked peaceful.
Then the bedroom television flickered on.
A familiar face appeared on the screen.
Freddy Krueger.
He slowly raised one bladed finger to his lips.
Freddy: Shhh.
The television went black.
The camera returned to the center of Springwood.
The streets were empty.
The streetlights had stopped flickering. The fog had lifted. The abandoned cars sat motionless beneath the morning sky.
There was no sign of the other competitors.
No sign of Freddy.
No sign of the nightmare that had swallowed ten wrestlers and left only two championship belts behind.
A battered television sat on the pavement beside the abandoned ring.
Its screen flickered to life.
Roger appeared, sitting on his bed with both championships draped across his shoulders.
He was smiling broadly.
Roger: I would like to thank my partner, Safari Stu, for helping me win these championships.
He paused.
Roger: Wherever he is.
A long silence followed.
Roger: I would also like to thank the cat at the zoo. That cat was very brave.
| Winner and STILL Anarchy Tag-Team Champions- Jupiter-Sized Jungle Jamboree |
The screen went black.
TODD: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE RESULT IS OFFICIAL! JUPITER-SIZED JUNGLE JAMBOREE RETAIN THE ANARCHY TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS! ROGER FOUND THE GOLD AND ESCAPED THE NIGHTMARE!
BAMA T: TODD, I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS. WHERE IS SAFARI STU? WHAT HAPPENED TO VITA AND DEACON? DID ANYBODY ACTUALLY ESCAPE SPRINGWOOD? AND HOW DID ROGER WIN A NIGHTMARE MATCH BY GOING TO BED?!
TODD: I DON'T HAVE THOSE ANSWERS, BAMA T! ALL WE KNOW IS THAT ROGER HAS THE CHAMPIONSHIPS!
BAMA T: I'M NOT EVEN MAD! THAT MAN SPENT THE ENTIRE NIGHT SCREAMING AT HOUSE CATS AND HE'S WALKING AWAY WITH THE GOLD! I'VE SEEN PEOPLE WORK TWENTY YEARS FOR LESS!
The camera slowly panned across the abandoned street.
The ring stood empty.
The championship belts were gone.
Somewhere in the distance, a telephone began to ring.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
A voice whispered through the darkness.
Freddy: One, two…
A pause.
Freddy: I'll see you again soon, bitches!
The screen cut to black.
Special Thanks To All Of Our Match Writers
Peter Principle
‘Big’ Dick Lichter
Judd Hollow
And to everyone who RPed for the show! See you again next Halloween! |
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