TURBO #410

Wrr.

Click.

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

Cold Open.

The show opens without its usual introduction, fireworks or commentary. Instead, we're inside a dimly lit security office somewhere deep within the Temple, where Marvolo stands before a wall of CCTV monitors. His arms are folded tightly across his chest, his expression grave as he watches grainy footage of a familiar incident. Beside him, a nervous technician operates a computer, repeatedly rewinding and advancing the recording at Marvolo's instruction.

On the screen, the Custodians are gathered around a conference table, engaged in what appears to be an ordinary meeting. The Chief sits at its head, whilst The Butcher and Flint are amongst those present. Suddenly, the door bursts open and an enormous figure enters the room, immediately launching a devastating assault upon the unsuspecting men.

Marvolo  "Stop it there."

The technician pauses the recording, leaving the attacker frozen in the doorway.

Marvolo  "Look at the size of that bastard. He's fucking enormous."

The figure is unmistakably male, with a towering, muscular frame and long hair hanging past his shoulders. His face is concealed beneath a mask, making identification almost impossible, but there's something about his appearance that troubles Marvolo.

Marvolo "Play it again. Half speed."

The footage resumes, revealing the attacker effortlessly throwing one Custodian across the conference table before driving another into the wall. Flint attempts to intervene, only to be caught by the throat and hurled violently against a filing cabinet. The Chief and Butcher fight desperately to defend themselves, but the masked assailant overwhelms them with frightening ease.

Marvolo leans closer to the screen, studying the man's movements.

Marvolo "There's something about him. The way he moves, the way he carries himself. I've seen that before."

Technician: "Do you recognise him, sir?"

Marvolo  "That's what I'm trying to work out. He's familiar, but I can't place him. And that mask isn't helping."

The technician cycles through several camera angles, revealing the attacker from different positions throughout the room. Unfortunately, his long hair and mask continue to obscure his identity, whilst the poor recording quality makes distinguishing features difficult to identify.

Technician:"Whoever he is, he knew exactly where the cameras were. He keeps turning away from them."

Marvolo "Which tells me this wasn't some random lunatic looking for a fight. He knew where the Custodians were meeting, he knew how to get inside, and he knew exactly what he was doing."

The footage reaches the moment Flint is left motionless on the floor. Marvolo watches in silence, his jaw tightening as the masked attacker turns towards the camera for a fraction of a second before disappearing from view.

Marvolo  "There! Right fucking there! Go back!"

The technician rewinds several frames, freezing the image just as the attacker begins turning his head. Marvolo moves closer, squinting at the distorted picture.

Marvolo  "I know that face. Or at least, I know something about it. There's no fucking way I've never seen this man before."

Technician:"I can try enhancing the image, but the resolution isn't particularly good."

Marvolo plants both hands on the desk, his eyes never leaving the monitor.

Marvolo  "Then find another camera, another angle, another fucking frame. I don't care what you have to do."

He points directly at the masked figure.

Marvolo  "Get me a better shot of that man's face."

The technician begins working as Marvolo continues staring at the frozen image, visibly disturbed by a familiarity he cannot explain.

The screen abruptly cuts.

In a small, rundown community centre, sits a bespectacled man with a moustache and sweater vest, smiling warmly with his fingers tented.

Support Worker “Thank you all for opening up.”

He addresses the dozen men and women comprising his support group, sitting in a semicircle.

Support Worker “Perhaps our newest member would like to share his story?”

He gestures towards a dark pinstripe-suited man with a skull mask - Ziggy Robbins!

The formerly motivational luchador rubs the back of his neck nervously.

Ziggy Robbins “Well, m-my name is…”

He desperately conjures up an alias—

Ziggy Robbins “Figgy Bobbins!”

Nailed it.

Support Worker “What brings you here, Figgy?”

Ziggy Robbins “… Family trouble.”

The support worker chuckles.

Support Worker “Families are notoriously troublesome. Maybe we’ll be able to relate?”

Nodding, Ziggy takes a deep breath…

Ziggy Robbins “My brother was an addict who got abducted by an evil doctor who experimented on him and left him grossly disfigured. I saved him, only to then break his neck, killing him - but only because I was already indoctrinated into The Family, under the influence of The Virus, and the evil doctor is drugging me so that I remain compliant, like a doped-up zombie—”

Seeing the looks on the faces of the group, Ziggy trails off.

…

Clap, clap, clap!

Everyone turns to look at the source of the disruption—

Dr. E. Vinell!

Support Worker “Oh, good - another new member!”

Ziggy buries his head in his hands.

Dr. E. Vinell “I’m sorry to interrupt your little trauma-dumping session.”

The support worker frowns.

Support Worker “That’s an awful thing to sa—”

Vinell holds his index finger to the man’s lips, silencing him. The group looks on, terrified yet transfixed…

Dr. E. Vinell “You continue to disappoint your Family, Ziggy.”

One member nudges their neighbour and whispers loudly—

Group member “Who’s Ziggy!?”

Vinell produces a syringe from his coat.

Dr. E. Vinell “Your merciful Padre has instructed me to continue treatment!”

He sticks Ziggy with the needle and pushes the plunger, to a horrified gasp from the group!

Robbins goes limp as the agent courses through his veins.

Dr. E. Vinell “Doctor-patient confidentiality, please…”

Vinell side-eyes the group, who all push their chairs back and rush for the door!

Static.

The screen flickers to life, revealing the grainy image of an old newspaper. Its headline reads: 

OUTLAWS WANTED IN TOMBSTONE ROBBERY.

A cheerful whistle accompanies a montage of faded photographs, wanted posters, and newspaper clippings.

Smiley “Oh, look at these handsome devils! Such wonderful gentlemen! Stealing from the rich, feeding the poor! Why, they were practically saints!”

An old photograph appears. Six outlaws stand outside a Tombstone saloon.

Smiley “But every good story needs a little tragedy, doesn't it, sweetheart?”

The photograph dissolves into a newspaper clipping.

ROBBERY ENDS IN BLOODSHED. INNOCENT LIFE LOST.

Doubt “They said nobody would get hurt.”

A photograph of a burned-out building appears.

Smiley “Oh, but somebody did! Isn't that always the way? You go looking for a little fortune, and you find something so much more exciting!”

The footage shifts to a handwritten account of the robbery. Several lines have been deliberately blacked out.

Doubt “Some people say it was an accident.”

Smiley “Accidents are such delightful little surprises!”

Doubt “Others say someone could have stopped it.”

The footage freezes on the original photograph. One face has been burned away.

Smiley's voice softens.

Smiley “Imagine carrying that little memory around for a hundred years. All those lovely mornings waking up, remembering someone else never got another.”

Doubt “He remembers.”

Smiley “Oh, I'm sure he does, darling. But does he remember what happened?”

A long silence follows.

Doubt “Or what he let happen?”

The photograph slowly burns from the edges, leaving only Deadeye's face untouched.

Smiley “Don't you worry, Deadeye. We're going to help you remember every delicious little detail!”

The screen goes black.

A final newspaper headline appears.

ONE SURVIVOR REFUSES TO SPEAK.

Doubt“Silence doesn't make you innocent.”

Cut.

Signal “Folks, earlier tonight we witnessed some deeply disturbing footage concerning Deadeye's past. We've reached out to Armed & Dangerous for comment, but so far, nothing.”

Black Scar “I don't give a shit what Deadeye did a hundred years ago. What bothers me is those two sick fucks digging it up. After what Smiley did to us at Ring King, I wouldn't put anything past him.”

Deep backstage, Deadeye stands alone, smoking a cigarette. Siniestro approaches.

Siniestro “An interesting documentary, amigo. I particularly enjoyed the part where our enemies know more about you than I do.”

Deadeye“Ain't nothin' but a bunch of old bullshit.”

Siniestro “Then why have you spent the entire evening hiding back here?”

Deadeye flicks his cigarette away.

Deadeye“Watch yourself, Santiago.”

Siniestro “I am. I'm watching my back while you're too busy looking over your shoulder.”

Deadeye“Those boys wanna drag up hundred-year-old ghosts, let 'em. Ain't gonna change a goddamn thing.”

Siniestro“It already has.”

Siniestro steps closer.

Siniestro “I've killed men for money, Deadeye. Men with families. Men who begged. Do you think there's something in your past that will offend my delicate sensibilities?”

Deadeye “You don't understand.”

Siniestro “Then enlighten me.”

Silence.

Siniestro “Where I come from, secrets are currency. Right now, Knock Knock are spending yours while I'm standing here with empty pockets.”

Deadeye produces the photograph from his vest.

Deadeye“That gang was my family, Santiago. Only one I ever knew.”

Siniestro “And what happened to them?”

Deadeye “Same thing that happens to every family eventually.”

Siniestro “Which is?”

Deadeye “Somebody gets everybody else killed.”

Deadeye heads for the door.

Siniestro “And which one were you?”

Deadeye stops, but doesn't turn around.

He leaves without answering.

Signal “Whatever happened in Tombstone, Deadeye clearly doesn't want to talk about it.”

Black Scar “And that's exactly what Knock Knock are counting on.”

The bell has barely finished ringing when Dr. Cube staggers back to his feet, having secured another victory alongside Edward Newton. The referee approaches to raise their hands, but Cube angrily snatches his arm away, his attention fixed upon his tag team partner. Newton stands nearby, breathing heavily after delivering his finishing manoeuvre to secure the decisive advantage, seemingly unaware that his contribution has infuriated the man who controls him.

Signal"A huge victory for Dr. Cube and Edward Newton, but look at Cube! You'd think they'd just lost!"

Black Scar "Newton got carried away, Signal. Dr. Cube likes things done a certain way, and apparently Edward's forgotten who's in charge."

Cube marches towards Newton, shoving him hard in the chest before demanding a microphone. Newton instinctively takes a step backwards, his expression changing from confusion to apprehension as Cube begins berating him.

Dr. Cube "What the hell was that, Edward? Did I tell you to finish the match? Did I give you permission to hit your finishing manoeuvre and take the victory for yourself?"

Edward Newton "The opportunity presented itself. Our opponent was vulnerable, and I calculated that—"

Dr. Cube "I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU CALCULATED!"

Newton immediately falls silent.

Dr. Cube "I was supposed to finish that match! I was supposed to demonstrate precisely why I'm the most dangerous man in this company, and you decided to steal my moment! You think because you've got a little intelligence rattling around inside that skull, you can make decisions without consulting me?"

Edward Newton "No. I was only trying to ensure that we won."

Dr. Cube"You'd better understand something, Edward. Winning isn't enough. We win MY way, on MY terms, and when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it!"

Without warning, Cube delivers a vicious slap across Newton's face. The crowd erupts into boos as Newton recoils, clutching his cheek but refusing to raise his hands.

Cube slaps him again.

And again.

Each strike draws an increasingly hostile reaction from the audience, but Newton remains rooted to the spot, his eyes lowered towards the canvas. The once-arrogant mastermind who delighted in manipulating others now stands utterly humiliated, too terrified of the consequences to defend himself.

Signal"This is disgusting! Edward Newton just helped that man win a match, and this is how Cube thanks him?"

Black Scar "Look at Newton! He's not even attempting to fight back. Cube's got him so frightened that he can do whatever he wants!"

Cube grabs Newton by the jaw, forcing him to look directly into his eyes.

Dr. Cube"You're going to pay for embarrassing me tonight. But before that happens, we've got something considerably more important to discuss. Next week, you and I are challenging for the OSW Tag Team Championships."

The crowd reacts loudly to the announcement as Cube tightens his grip.

Dr. Cube"And when those championships are on the line, there will be no improvisation, no clever little decisions, and absolutely no stealing my glory. You will follow every instruction I give you. Is that understood?"

Newton swallows hard, his cheek reddened from the repeated blows.

Edward Newton"Yes, boss."

Cube releases him with a contemptuous shove.

Dr. Cube"Good. Because if you disappoint me again, Edward, I'll make certain you regret it. And you know better than anybody that I don't make empty threats."

Cube drops the microphone and exits the ring, leaving Newton standing alone beneath a chorus of boos. For a moment, Edward watches his tormentor disappear up the entrance ramp, his fists tightening ever so slightly before he reluctantly lowers his head.

Signal"Next week, these two could become Tag Team Champions, but how much longer can Edward Newton endure this abuse?"

Black Scar "As long as Dr. Cube tells him to, Signal. That's the horrible truth of it."

Newton quietly leaves the ring, following several paces behind the man who has turned his life into a living nightmare.

Backstage, Warlord Mars is heading toward the locker rooms when PixelShift steps into his path.

Pixelshift "Mars. We need to talk."

Warlord Mars "OH, FUCK ME! I SURVIVE A FUCKIN NIGHTMARE AND THE FIRST THING I SEE IS ANOTHER ONE!"

Signal "These two survived The Glitch together, but I don't think Mars is happy about the reunion!"

Pixelshift "We got out. Both of us. That's got to count for something."

Warlord Mars "YEAH! ANOTHER REASON TO STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM YOUR COMPUTER BULLSHIT!"

Pixelshift "You've survived two game worlds now. Whatever you think happens if I go home—"

Mars grabs PixelShift by the collar, slamming him against the wall.

Warlord Mars "I DON'T THINK, YOU LITTLE SHIT! I'VE SEEN HUMANITY'S FUTURE! AND I'LL BE FUCKED IF I'M HELPIN YOU DESTROY IT!"

Black Scar "He's got a point. Mars might be a lunatic, but he's seen things nobody else has."

Pixelshift "For somebody trying to save humanity, you sure enjoy threatening to kill people."

Mars suddenly releases him, staring down the hallway.

An identical PixelShift stands motionless beneath a flickering light.

Warlord Mars "WHAT THE FUCK!? THERE'S TWO OF YOU!? WHO'S BEEN BREEDIN THESE LITTLE CUNTS!?"

Signal "WAIT A MINUTE! THAT'S THE FIGURE FROM RING KING!"

PixelShift turns, visibly shaken.

Pixelshift"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Mars charges. The duplicate sidesteps his fist and disappears around the corner.

Warlord Mars "WHERE'D THAT SNEAKY FUCK GO!?"

Pixelshift "Mars, that thing isn't me!"

Warlord Mars "I DON'T GIVE A FUCK! ONE OF YA'S ALREADY TOO MANY! AND NEITHER OF YA'S GETTIN ME BACK INTO THAT FUCKIN GAME!"

Mars storms away.

Signal"Whatever that duplicate wants, it's certainly making PixelShift's life harder."

PixelShift stares down the empty hallway.

In a nearby darkened monitor, his reflection smiles.

PixelShift isn't smiling.

Black Scar "Uh, Sig? Tell me you saw that."

Cut.

The Temple is in absolute disbelief as Reaver rises to his feet, having just defeated the OSW World Champion, Padre Venganza. The monstrous figure stands over the fallen champion, his grotesque mask concealing terrifying everyone. The referee wisely keeps his distance as Reaver slowly turns towards the audience, surveying the carnage he's left behind.

Signal "I cannot believe what we've just witnessed! Reaver has beaten the World Champion! Padre Venganza has been absolutely destroyed!"

Black Scar "And that's why I've been telling you people to stay the hell away from him! That thing doesn't care about championships, reputations or anything else. He just wants to hurt people!"

Suddenly, the crowd erupts as Rambro comes charging down the entrance ramp. Before Reaver can react, Santiago Del Toro leaps over the barricade on the opposite side of the ring, whilst Candy Man emerges from the crowd behind him. 

All three men slide beneath the ropes simultaneously, surrounding the monster who has terrorised each of them.

Rambro strikes first, driving a thunderous forearm into Reaver's jaw as Del Toro attacks from the opposite direction. Candy Man joins the assault, and the three men begin raining blows upon their common enemy. 

Reaver fights back with terrifying ferocity, catching Rambro by the throat and hurling him into the corner before clawing wildly at Del Toro. Candy Man throws himself against the monster's back, however, allowing Rambro to recover and deliver another crushing blow.

Signal "They've got him! Rambro, Del Toro and Candy Man have finally put their differences aside to take down Reaver!"

Black Scar"Three men might actually have a chance, Signal, but they'd better finish the job before he gets his hands on one of them!"

The assault continues as Rambro and Candy Man restrain Reaver, allowing Del Toro to step backwards and prepare a devastating kick. Reaver suddenly wrenches himself free, ducking beneath the incoming strike at the very last moment.

CRACK!

Del Toro's boot connects flush with Candy Man's face instead, sending him crashing backwards onto the canvas.

Rambro immediately turns towards Del Toro, absolutely furious.

Rambro "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, SOLDIER?!"

Santiago Del Toro "He moved! It was an accident!"

Rambro"WE HAD A FUCKING PLAN! THREE MEN, ONE TARGET! WE WERE SUPPOSED TO FINISH THIS BASTARD TOGETHER!"

Their argument provides Reaver with the opening he needs. The monster rolls beneath the bottom rope, dropping to the arena floor before retreating towards the entrance ramp. He pauses briefly to look back at his attackers, his head tilting unnaturally as he watches their alliance disintegrate.

Signal"No! Reaver's escaping! They had him beaten, and now they've completely lost control!"

Inside the ring, Rambro continues berating Del Toro, who angrily insists that his misplaced kick was nothing more than an unfortunate accident. Neither notices Candy Man struggling back to his feet behind them, clutching his jaw and glaring murderously at the man responsible.

Without warning, Candy Man charges across the ring and tackles Del Toro through the ropes, sending both men crashing to the arena floor!

The two immediately begin exchanging furious punches, rolling across the protective mats as their confrontation spills towards the barricade. Del Toro attempts to shove Candy Man away, but the enraged confectioner refuses to relent, dragging him back into another vicious exchange.

Rambro stands in the middle of the ring, staring at the unfolding disaster in utter disbelief.

Black Scar"HA! Look at this! Three men came out here to destroy Reaver, and now they're destroying each other!"

Signal"They had one opportunity to put that monster down, and they've thrown it away! Reaver didn't even have to beat them. They beat themselves!"

At the top of the entrance ramp, Reaver stands motionless, watching Candy Man and Del Toro tear into one another whilst Rambro stands bemused in the middle of the ring..

The monster slowly turns and disappears backstage, leaving his three would-be executioners fighting amongst themselves.

Their plan has failed spectacularly.

Night has fallen over Molvania as Darkwish approaches a modest house on a quiet residential street.

The vigilante looks exhausted, the weight of recent events evident in his every movement. He's come to see Redwing, the one man who knows him better than almost anybody else, and perhaps the only person still willing to believe that he isn't responsible for the murders that have plagued OSW. 

Their previous conversation offered something Darkwish hasn't experienced in a very long time: hope.

As he approaches the front door, however, something immediately troubles him. It's slightly ajar, swaying gently in the evening breeze. Redwing is far too careful to leave his home unsecured, particularly given the dangers associated with their shared history.

Darkwish"Redwing?"

There is no answer.

Darkwish cautiously pushes the door open, stepping into a darkened hallway where the unmistakable smell of smoke hangs heavily in the air. The walls are blackened, fragments of broken furniture litter the floor, and a thin layer of ash covers almost everything.

His footsteps crunch against shattered glass as he advances towards the living room, calling his old friend's name once more.

Darkwish "Redwing? It's me. Are you here?"

He rounds the corner.

And stops.

The living room has been utterly devastated. Furniture lies overturned and charred, the curtains have been reduced to blackened strips, and enormous scorch marks stretch across the walls and ceiling. At the centre of the destruction lies a body, so horrifically burned that its features are completely unrecognisable.

Darkwish stands frozen in the doorway, unable to comprehend what he's seeing.

Darkwish"No..."

He approaches the remains, dropping slowly to his knees. There is nothing left by which he could recognise his old friend, nothing that could distinguish him from anybody else who might have suffered such a terrible fate.

Then he notices something amongst the ashes.

Fragments of Redwing's mask.

Darkwish carefully picks up a scorched piece, turning it over in his trembling fingers. The familiar material is unmistakable, even in its ruined condition. His breathing becomes increasingly laboured as the terrible reality begins to overwhelm him.

Darkwish "No. No, you can't be..."

His voice breaks.

Darkwish "You were going to help me. You said we'd find out who was doing this."

For several moments, Darkwish remains kneeling beside the body, clutching the broken mask. Redwing was the man who once put him behind bars for murdering Jigsaw, but he'd also been the man willing to look beyond his past and offer him another chance.

Now he's gone, and Darkwish has lost the one person who understood the difference between the killer he once was and the man he's desperately trying to become.

As he slowly raises his head, something catches his attention on the far wall.

A message has been scrawled across the scorched plaster in enormous, unmistakable letters.

YOU'RE NEXT, DARKWISH.

Darkwish stares at the warning, his grief giving way to a terrible realisation. Whoever murdered Redwing knew about their meetings. They knew Redwing was helping him. And they wanted Darkwish to find this.

Darkwish"Whoever you are... I'll find you."

Suddenly, the silence is shattered by the sound of approaching sirens.

Before Darkwish can react, the front door crashes open and several armed police officers storm into the house, their torches illuminating the devastation.

Police Officer "POLICE! DON'T MOVE! HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"

Darkwish turns towards them, still kneeling beside the burned remains with fragments of Redwing's mask in his hands.

Darkwish "Wait! You've got this wrong! I just got here!"

Police Officer "DROP WHAT YOU'RE HOLDING! GET ON THE GROUND!"

Darkwish"Somebody murdered him! There's a message on the wall! Whoever did this is threatening me!"

The officers advance with their weapons trained upon him. Darkwish looks desperately between the police and Redwing's remains, understanding how the scene must appear. A man already suspected of multiple murders, discovered alone inside another victim's home, kneeling beside a corpse.

Police Officer "You're under arrest on suspicion of murder! Put your hands behind your back!"

Darkwish"I DIDN'T KILL HIM!"

An officer forces Darkwish onto the floor whilst another secures his wrists in handcuffs. He offers no resistance, even as they haul him to his feet and begin escorting him towards the front door.

Darkwish"Please! You have to listen to me! He was my friend!"

The camera remains inside the ruined living room as Darkwish's protests fade into the distance. Slowly, it pans across the devastation, passing the charred remains of Redwing before settling upon the message on the wall.

Outside, the door of a police car slams shut.

Darkwish has lost his oldest friend.

And now he's being arrested for his murder.

Cut.