Same old, same old.

Another loud thump was heard, followed by the clicking of shoe heels against the rock solid ground.

They kept going, getting faster and faster each second...

Finally, the sound of a large door being opened followed, and as it did "Points of Authority" by Linkin Park started to play. Some of the people stood, waiting to catch a better view of one of the newest Asylum fighters to date. LLB.

The lawyer steadily paced out, climbing into the Asylum and pulling out a microphone from his front jacket pocket. It appeared as if he had something on his mind and wasn't about to hold back at all. Looking around at the dubbed 'Jury', LLB cleared his lungs beginning to speak.

"Jury, since last week I was horribly interrupted by that sin Joe Campbell, I hereby would like to state a couple more things to everyone, and properly introduce myself at the same time to you all.

I am LLB.
I am the law.
I am what is right.
I am the man that proves the guilt in the Asylum.
I am the man that will take down everyone here for their past and present sins.
I am the man that will give them a fair trial.
But I am also the man that will win that fair trial."

Stopping for a moment, and nearly boring half the 'Jury' to death as they began to boo, LLB scratched his head as if to wonder what to say next.

"Objection! Shut up! You want to take me as a joke!? I'll show you what bloody joke I am. Go ask PIW. Hey, where are they? I don't see any PIW Wrestlers' around here. Go ask jOlt. Where in the black hell are they?

I RUINED their careers by proving their guilt. I see no one, none of those top guns from either place around anywhere. Maybe a couple, but that's it. Face the facts, the Asylum is about to testify. I am just mere warning you so it won't hurt as bad. I'm TRYING to be nice."

"Links 2 3 4" hit, and again sent LLB to a new level, this time kicking the edge of the cage a few times on maddens of being cut off.

"We meet again, 'mate'." Campbell greeted, somewhat sarcastically while stepping out from behind the back.

"Objection Your Honor, toss this crap out the window, Joe, what do you want?"

"Well, I was just sitting in the back, couldn't help but hear what you had to talk about. Roland, do you ever shut up? No, no, don't answer that question. It was rhetoric. But as you were talking, I couldn't stop thinking. I mean, you stand there saying how the Asylum's verdict is 'coming', yet again you failed to realize you've sucked big time in tA ever since that time you were Kenny Rock's lawyer.

But then, at least Roland, you had a teammate. Kenny Rock was beside you. Hand in hand you went strolling down this hell I call my home.

Objeackson Roland, where is your friend now?"

Joe smirked, tossing the microphone down in an attempt to head backstage but LLB stopped him.

"Hey now, Joe, where you going? The parties just about to begin. Campbell, I'm not stupid, Kenny Rock is dead and I could really care less about him. If that's a roll of the dice to get into my heart and make me feel bad, you failed because I don't care about him.

And I don't care about you.

And I don't care about the Asylum.

To even get technical, I also don't care about myself.

I've said it a million times, I'm the child written in law and that's all I'm here for. To, prove, you, guilty. To, prove, you, wrong."

Joe sneered. He thought he had heard that comment once before in a Wrestling promotion but wasn't fully sure. Regardless, Campbell spat onto the floor pulling the microphone back to his face.

"Fuck you. It wasn't about taking a shot at you, I am though, Roland, just telling you the basic facts. If you think you'll do well this time round in the Asylum, you HONESTLY think you'll be able to do it by yourself?"

LLB paced around for another moment or two, stretching his arms back and forth as if trying to tell Joe he was ready for action this night, and ready to prove the guilt Joe Campbell had in his head.

"Yes. Yes Joe I do. And you know why? I've done it before. I'll do it again. the Asylum is nothing more than another Courtroom. Its sins may be deeper, but that's no problem for LLB. That's no problem for Me."

The Crowd began to cheer, but whatever they were indeed chanting wasn't kept in tune from the offbeat majority of them. And in hearing that Joe smiled, as if he found it funny the people were a bunch of morons not even being able to keep in tune. "Alright then 'mate'-" He replied, stopped mid-sentence. "Oh yeah, also while I was pondering in the back I thought up a Match tonight. Maybe even a dream Match to some. I got you an inmate for your fearless little Courtroom. I got you...

The Inmate.

Good day and happy fighting."

"Links 2 3 4" by Rammstein cued up again as Joe turned and headed off, leaving LLB in the middle of the Asylum thinking over the past few minutes.

But as always, there were always The Movement haters. They would hold their signs up high:

“NERVA=HITLER”

“THE MOVEMENT = MOVING NOWHERE”

In Nerva’s mind, they just didn’t understand. She grabbed the microphone from the ring announcer. “OK, OK – I get it, you hate me. Shut up. What I want to talk about here tonight is Borst. I’m pretty sure you’re all aware of what happened last week, when the fucker pissed all over me.” The fans erupted in cheers, causing Nerva’s face to go sour. “Yeah, wasn’t that great? Zoe said last week that nobody pisses on The Movement. Well, let me adjust that statement. Nobody pisses on The Movement… without getting away with it!”

Nerva brought the mike down to let the fans boo some more and then brought it back up. “Now, I am the current Asylum Women’s Champion. But personally, I’ve never seen the point in having a women’s division – I don’t see why women have to be separated and ostracized. It’s an act of patriarchy that’s been the running force in the Asylum since day one! This leads into my challenge to Borst. That’s right, the indestructible Boris Borst.

“What I want to do, Borst, is I want to unify my title into your title. I want to make the Asylum an even playing field for men and women. Like Malcolm X, I have a dream.”

The fans booed her attempt to emulate a legendary figure in African American history.

“And like Rosa Parks, I have a seat on the bus that I intend to sit on. And there ain’t no way I’m getting off of it. Borst, your World Championship status looks like a really nice spot to sit. Rosa, baby, I’m fightin for you; I’m fightin your fight! Everyone will learn that with the power of many – with the power of The Movement – behind me, I’m unstoppable. Did any of you remember that this month is Women’s History Month? Not only do I have a movement behind me, I have an entire evolution. Elizabeth Blackwell, Lucretia Mott, Emily Stowe, Nellie McLung, I’ve got all those historical figures behind me. So who’s more indestructible? Me or the drunken Russian?”

The fans in the crowd broke into a “BORST!” chant. His popularity couldn’t be denied with the Asylum fans, no matter what he did on national television. The cheers grew as “Fuckin in the Bushes” by Oasis took to the speakers. Borst came down the aisle, lugging the Asylum Championship belt with him. He grabbed a beer from a ringside fan and took a huge gulp from it and then smashed the bottle on the steel steps. Right when he entered the cage, he spat the beer out into Nerva’s face and then slapped her in the face.

He grabbed the mike from her. “What’s wrong with you, WOMAN? Did anybody out here ask you to come out here, take this bloody mike and yap? Let me be honest – you shouldn’t even be asking for a shot at my Asylum Title. It’s mine, so fuck off. Go on! Take your Movement bullshit somewhere else. You think it pisses me off when you interrupt my big PPV title match and steal my wife? Bollocks! The only thing that pisses me off is you wasting TV time when I could be getting drunk off of my fucking ass in front of millions. And you know what? I can neutralize that fucking anger with another slap to your fucking face.”

He slapped her again, making the fans cheer even more. Nerva’s face was shaking from the shot, wet with beer. She looked into the crowd to see the women bearing Movement merchandise sitting with their arms crossed over their chests. They were scattered in the crowd, each of them surrounded by standing, cheering men. They were all focused on Nerva. She clenched her right fist and cracked Borst across the jaw. Nerva dropped her Women’s title. Borst dropped his World Title. Borst punched her back, sending her to the ground. Nerva pulled herself up and hit a follow-through punch on Borst, sending him back a few feet.

Security piled in to separate the two fighters.

“Fuck you, Borst! You fucking chickenshit!” yelled Nerva.

Borst smiled, grabbing his title from a security guard who picked it up, and held it up high. “This a man’s title. This isn’t your fucking place. Women don’t even deserve the opportunity. I’ll be bloody damned if you ever get near this!”

Joe Campbell's phone isn't ringing. Tha talent of the Asylum aren't knocking down his door. He honestly gets to enjoy a peacefully moment of silence. Joe Campbell leans back deep in his chair, folds his hands behind his head, and as a smile slowly sprawls across his face, he closes his eyes. Joe Campbell is happy.

And then it all abruptly ends, much to Joe's shock and annoyance, with the sudden sound of a familiar voice.

"Joseph...wake up."

Synn sits across from Joe, staring menacingly in his direction. Joe Cambell, however, isn't having any of that tonight. He was enjoying his quite and this bizzare, twisted, sadistic, evil fuck just ruined it.

"What in the bloody hell do YOU want?"

"I want what's coming to me. I want my shot at the world title." Synn answered, Joe’s face masking a subliminal laughter.

"I don't want to hear it. You damn fighter's are all alike. A bunch of whining tough guys who storm in here with there chests all puffed out demanding outrageous and unwarranted rewards and invading my fucking quiet time. You all make me sick. Now, if you please, get out of my office." Joe shot back, Synn evidently not impressed.

"You've never been a stupid man before, Campbell. It's not a good habit to fall into. I suggest you not start now. I'm a dangerous person when I'm driven to be."

Joe let's out a barely audible muffled chuckle. Synn's eye's widen and flare up with rage.

"Who the hell do you think you are, Campbell..."

"No...who the hell do you think YOU are? Coming in here like you're all high and mighty. Just where the hell have you been any damn way? What argument could you possibly have that says you deserve a title shot?"

"I see your point, Joseph."

"Oh yeah sure...that's plenty of reason to gi...wait a second. You see my point?"

"Yes. I do."

"Well...ah...then I guess you can understand when I say 'no' to giving you your shot?"

"I understand perfectly."

Synn suddenly lunges from his chair and grabs Joe tightly around his collar.

"I understand that in order to get what i want, I have to do what I've always done. Take it." Synn snarled through clenched teeth, before giving Joe a swift shove and turning to leave, slamming the door behind himself.

Joe stands momentarily shocked to stillness, then shakes it off and straightens his shirt.

"Synn...pah...fucking has been."

The door swings wide open again and Synn stands just on the other side of it. His face is gnarled in a blind and embarrassed rage. He launches the office chair in front of him across the office toward Joe's head just as four security guards tackle and cuff him from behind.

As he's dragged kicking from Joe's now all too loud and chaotic office atmosphere, Synn screams to Joe, "You should have given me the shot, Campbell! Now I'll show you something this 'has been' has never done before!"

Then the camera man goes down with a stiff boot to the face by Synn, and the feed is lost to static.

Mega Job.

Beef, or what had to be Beef, came to the Asylum cage first, wearing a bad looking black and blue mask and a black t-shirt that said "ODDJOB SQUAD" on the front. Trailing him was El Janito, who wasn't even in his normal bodysuit. Rather, he wore a simple pair of black tights with black boots and he had a helmet on. Then, of course, there was Steve the Rambling Communist, who carried his stepladder, named Oddjob, over his shoulder. Oddly enough, Beef went into the crowd and somehow managed to pull an extremely hot nineteen-year-old girl from the crowd. For what reason, we'll never know.

All four of them entered the Asylum cage.

Beef called for a microphone, and a foolish ringside attendant who couldn't put two-and-two together and figure out was going on had given it to him.

"Ladies and gentlemen... *WE* are the Oddjob Squad! We are here tonight to say stuff!" Beef said. He paused for about ten seconds, scratching at his mask as he did so. He finally turned to Janito, questioningly. "Uhm, dude, Janito, what was I supposed to say?"

Janito merely shrugged. "I dunno, esse. You were the one who suggested we ad lib this."

Beef shrugged, himself, before he got back to what he was saying. Which was nothing, mind you.

"Well, anyway, I suppose we should individually introduce ourselves for comedy effect. I am, of course, Long John Quicksilver. I am an eleven-time North Dakotan Janitorweight Champion and I pinned Beef Watch in the center of the ring a few times!" Beef said, failing to mention that he only held the Janitorweight title once and that it was physically impossible for him to pin himself, since he was the one that played the role of Beef Watch.

"Over here, we have Bob Job!" Beef said, pointing at El Janito. In actuality, Bob Job was a wrestler in the IWO, which might have explained where they got the name. "Bob Job, of course, is the master of... erm, well, nothing, really. But I thought I'd make him feel better about his existence if I told him that he was the master of something. Hmm."

Beef shrugged in the thought and moved on to Steve, who had set up Oddjob against the cage and now stood there with his arms crossed.

"Over here, we've got M.C. Hammer. We couldn't think of a creative name for him. But he's the toughest member of our group! Really! M.C.! Tell us how tough you are!" Beef said, tossing the microphone down for Steve/M.C. to pick up. He picked it up and raised it to his lips.

"PIGS."

Steve tossed the microphone back up into Beef's hands, who fumbled it and dropped it. A few fans began a "you fucked up" chant, as Beef picked it up again.

"Well, next, we have our namesake member and the REAL star of the show... ODDJOB~!" Beef shouted, excitedly, walking over to the stepladder and poking a microphone in its direction. Beef paused for a response, and if you think that an ordinary stepladder is going to speak, then you have issues and need to be taken away. Right. Now.

For those that weren't taken away, Beef just sort of stopped poking Oddjob with his microphone and raised it back to his lips with a smile on his face.

"Well, that's all Oddjob needed to say! I suppose those Syndication guys are wetting themselves in fear as we speak!"

Finally, Beef turned his attention to the smiling nineteen-year-old girl that he had somehow conned into being in this parody. "And this is, um... Eclaire or something. Hi."

Beef waved. She waved back. Hmm! "Now, uh, insert an 'I want to make love to you under the stars' joke about you, here."

Of course, it was about this time that "Crush Em" by Megadeth happened to hit. The girl, realizing that she was now in hostile territory, made the wise decision on leaving the cage, as the Asylum team champions, Hans Krueger and Adam Nowell, happened to walk down toward the cage, looking extremely, extremely ticked off.

And a ticked off Syndication is not a good Syndication.

"Vat ve hell do you think you're doing?" Krueger asked, holding a microphone while looking toward the three members of Mega Job.

"Well, uhm... that is, we were... yeah. That's what we were doing. Uh-huh." Beef said.

"Bah. Vell, since you have stuck your veakling noses out here, vhy don't you back up your vords?"

"Vuh vuh vah?" Beef imitated, annoying the crap out of Hans some more. "Listen, Han Solo, take Chewbacca the Wookie and go away, because your face is ugly enough to break a mirror and only HYPNOSIS is allowed to break mirrors around this joint."

"Alright, VAT'S IT. You and me, in zuh cage, tonight." Hans challenged. Beef damn near wet himself, but he got his composure together and decided to respond with what could only be described as an acceptance of the challenge.

"Well, I dunno, Han. You're kind of a wuss without the Millennium Falcon around, but I suppose I could drag Chewie's mom out here and she can play the role of Jabba."

That was all it took.

Syndication entered the cage.

Mega Job exited the cage.

All in one fluid motion.

Hans had a look on his face that would cause six-year-old boys to wet themselves. A sort of a "I will devour your heart and use your intestines as a jump rope" kind of look. It was Beef versus Hans Krueger tonight, on top of the match Janito already had lined up with Adam Nowell.

Things just kept getting interesting when Mega Job was around.

Clayton Richler screamed at the top of his lungs as Joe Campbell sat behind his desk with a grin on his face.
“That was a mighty blow you took last week, Clayton. I can see why you’re a lit-”

“ANGRY!?” Clayton yelled at the top of his lungs as he gave the chair beside him a toss across the room.

“You’re going to have to calm down.” Joe said as Clayton paced around the room.

“… Look. I can’t work with Drake. The guy is obviously a ticking time bomb. That jackass almost killed me. You expect me to go out there and work with him now? Like nothing ever happened!?”

“You’re going to have to.”

“I WANT TO TEAR HIS THROAT OUT!!!”

Joe sighed. “Mmhmm. That’s quite understandable. But, perhaps you’ve forgotten all about this…” Joe said as he pointed to a sheet of paper lying on his desk.

“What?” Clayton wasn’t even processing Joe’s words.

“Your contract.”

The door suddenly swung open and a huge figure appeared. None other than Drake Kerrigan himself stepped into the room, dressed in his street clothes and carrying a gym bag.

“His contract, too.” said Joe.

Drake looked around in confusion. “Wrong room…”

Clayton noticed Drake and jumped backwards. “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! WHAT, WAS ALL THIS A SETUP!? HUH!? COME BACK TO KILL ME THIS TIME!? HUH!?”

Drake glared menacingly at Clayton. “Get outta’ my face.”

“GET OUT OF YOUR FACE!?” Clayton ran over and lunged at Drake just before he could exit the room and locked him in a cobra clutch. “YOU NEARLY KILLED ME YOU FUCK! AND THAT’S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY!?” Clayton yelled into Drake’s ear as he struggled to keep the headlock on him. “DIE! DIE! DIIIIEEEE!!!” Finally, Drake managed to knock Clayton down to the floor.

“Stop, before I have you both killed.” A steady voice called out from across the room. It was Joe; still sitting behind his desk with his arms crossed and an impatient look on his face. Clayton stood back up.

“Now,” Joe said as he held the paper up. “This is the contract that both of you signed on the date of February 24th, 2002. It means that both of you will keep your asses in the Asylum and fight together as a tag team for at least one year, whether you two look it or not. Got it?”

“Bu-” Drake was cut off.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?”

“Yes.” Clayton and Drake said simultaneously.

“Good. Now, I want both of you to get out there and issue a challenge to any tag team in the Asylum who wants to take you on. You two must get a match tonight.”

Clayton cut in. “… Actually, Joe… I suffered a concussion thanks to Drake’s spear a few days ago. I shouldn’t be wrestling tonight.”

“You two are either going to fight tonight, or you’re going to be eating out of a fucking garbage can for the rest of your pathetic lives! NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”

Clayton glared over at Drake with a look of hatred on his face as he opened up the door and stormed out of the room.

Beef Vs Hans Krueger

The fans began a half-cheer, half-booing for Beef the Slightly Annoyed, who walked out to the Asylum cage, trailed by Steve the Rambling Communist, who was actually the toughest member of the Mega Job trio.

Beef entered the Asylum cage and did a few flexes before the fans heard the theme music of his opponent and began to boo.

Crush `Em. Megadeth.

Hans Krueger walked toward the cage, holding his Asylum Team title over his shoulder and sneering at the fans. He entered the cage, threw the belt to the outside, and the bell rang.

No, Beef actually paid attention and didn't get knocked out of the Asylum right away this time.

Beef stood there, hands on hips, chest puffed up, and he looked rather heroic. Beef and Hans circled each other and Beef maintained his heroic position the entire time. Hans stopped circling and stared blankly at Beef, who seemed to be daring Beef to hit him with his best shot. Hans wasn't sure about it until Beef said it, himself.

"Hit me with your best shot, weakling!" Beef dared, smiling the whole way.

Hans looked around to make sure that this wasn't some setup, turned back to Beef, shrugged...

...then kicked him right square in the nuts.

Predictably, Beef doubled over and clutched his nuts, hyperventilating as he did so. Hans waited for Beef to get up, but that took a while, because Beef was totally selling the nutshot, and at the count of nine, Beef finally maintained the strength to stand up.

Hans was ready with the Dresden Powerhouse, but before he could execute it, Beef fell back over and clutched his nuts again, hyperventilating yet again. Some fans in attendance kind of chuckled, but Hans was not amused. He waited again for Beef to stand before trying his next attack, as the referee counted down Beef. At the count of nine, Beef stood up. Hans went for the Dresden Powerhouse, but Beef fell over AGAIN to clutch his nuts. The powerful swing of the Dresden Powerhouse, coupled with Beef's head and shoulders catching Hans right at the leg that didn't leave the ground, caused Hans to fall over.

Hans got back to his feet quickly, though, and when Beef stood up for a third time, Hans let him have it, finally, with the Dresden Powerhouse, knocking Beef right out, this time for good.

The academic ten count came, and Hans Krueger was awarded the victory, while Beef was awarded with kicked-in nuts, the loss, and a wad of spit from Krueger's mouth.

Joe didn't think that would bode too well with Villam...or Almighty.

"AH! Er...I mean...'allo! There..." Joe trailed off and Contessa smiled.

"Aw, Joey...how cute...you're all scared like. Hmmm...afraid of Villam maybe? Listen...don't worry. Villam and I...we have...one of 'those kinds of relationships'. I didn't come here to threaten you...I just...wanted a match..."

Contessa slowly walked her fingers up Joe's chest...undoing each button and loosening his tie...

"A-a-ah...a match?"

"Yesssss....Mmmmm..." Contessa tickled his chin..."I was just looking...to...'expose' myself. And 'show people what I can do'...and maybe...what I'm willing to do?"

Joe's heart skipped a beat..."Oh and what are you willing to do?"

"Just...about...anything."

"Ah...Ah...Ahaha...yes...well um...Brittany isn't booked tonight..."

She stopped what she was doing and clapped her hands togther.

"AlrightbyethanksJoey!"

And zoom...she was gone...along with Joe's erection.

Stephanie struggled to get up as her knee began to bother her; Lotus saw it at the corner of her eye and asked, “Are you okay?”

Stephanie inhaled deeply and stood up, she replied simply, “Yeah.”

Lotus put her hand up and Stephanie held it. They gripped tightly together, knowing that Akha and Jessica were not pushovers. Lotus slightly nodded and smiled, “Let’s go face Death head on.”

Nerva ran down the hallway to catch up to the Asylum owner, Joe Campbell, who was getting a cup of coffee.

“Fuck, Nerva! You think I’ve got time for your shit? You’ve got thirty seconds,” he said. “You’ve already wasted five.”

She grabbed him by the balls, causing him to drop his coffee and spill it all over his cheap navy blazer. “First of all, don’t ever address The Movement with that kind of a tone. We’re worth more than thirty motherfucking seconds. All I really want is one thing.”

Joe swatted her hand off of his genitalia and then wiped his blazer off with a napkin. “And what’s that?”

“Let me sign autographs at the ticket sale for the Mind Games PPV. That’s all I want.”

“Fuck, do that then. Your time’s up.”

Joe walked back to his office, leaving Nerva at the refreshments table. She smiled, knowing she’d got what she’d wanted. Exactly what she wanted.

Jessica & Akha Vs Lotus & Steph Connor

The garbage slowly began to stop flooding the Asylum as the mood quickly changed, “Triumph” by Wutang played as the fans cheered loudly, giving a good ovation for Stephanie Connor and Lotus who stepped out from the back.

There minds were focused on the match, Lotus ran in first as Stephanie hobbled in behind.

The bell rung as Lotus hopped on top of the Asylum rim and jumped off delivering a spin kick on both women, Akha stumbles back and falls against the cage while Jessica flew out of the rim.

Lotus grinned widely and ran towards Akha with one of her dangerous quick kicks but Akha dodged and used her size advantage to grab Lotus other leg and lift her up, delivering a backbreaker and tossed her body to the side. Akha then continued the punishment as she stomped on Lotus and threw her head first onto the rim causing her to fall backwards.

Akha then went for the quick tag and Jessica hopped in arrogantly. She circled around Lotus and kicked her in the stomach. Stephanie screamed from her side of the Asylum and threw a pop can that the fans had tossed earlier at her. This created enough time for Lotus to recover as Jessica turned around back to Lotus, she did a kip-up into a fly kick across Jessica’s neck.

The fans gasped at once at the extraordinary moved then cheered as Jessica was getting pummeled with straight lefts and rights. Lotus grabbed a handful of hair and snapmared Jessica over her shoulder then tagged in Stephanie, who took her time getting inside.

As Stephanie climbed in, she quickly hobbled over, and stopped up Jessica who was crawling towards Akha. She then clenched her fist as she pulled back and threw full force with a devastating right hand. Jessica staggered back and tagged in Akha who ran in like a bull, she tried to clothesline Steph but she ducked and jumped up off her one good leg connecting with a hard head bunt.

Akha went dazed for a second but quickly refocused and saw the mat as she was going full force towards it. Stephanie connected with the damaging DDT but hurt her knee as Akha’s leg fell on it.

Stephanie sat on her buttocks and began to slide backwards while rubbing her knee as she tried to ease the pain. Lotus called for the tag but Stephanie waved her off, she used the sides as support as she stood up. The referee asked Stephanie if she was okay and she shook her head.

As the small commotion was over, Stephanie concentrated back on Akha and grabbed her hair setting up a suplex, but Akha reverses, lifting up Stephanie Connor and throwing her forward onto her stomach and injured knee. Akha tagged in Jessica Jenkins who was eager to fight and watched from the side as Stephanie was picked up and taken down again with a flip through her legs using the knee as the main damaging point.

Jessica then looked at Stephanie grabbing her knee in pain and planted on a figure four, Stephanie screamed in pain and Lotus couldn’t take it anymore. She ran in and ducked a shot from Akha who was guarding. As Jessica released the hold and held up, Lotus planted her feet and kicked Jessica’s feet under her, before jumping and spinning 360 degrees for a spin kick catching right underneath Jessica’s neck flipping her the opposite way, completing the move known as “Blossom”.

The referee held his head and didn’t know what to do, either begin counting the ten count for Jessica or let the match continue. Regardless, from behind Akha grabbed Lotus and struck her in the neck violent before grabbing her and lifting her off the ground, slamming her like a ragdoll against the mat.

Stephanie struggled to get on her feet to defend herself but couldn’t as Akha picked up Stephanie and laid her outside the cage with her knee arched sideways against the rim. She pressed down in pressure and listened to Stephanie scream in agony, the referee asked if she wanted to quit but she refused.

The referee looked at the unconscious Lotus, then at Akha. “I’ll break her fucking knee!” Akha screamed as she pulled back harder and the referee had enough. He called for the bell as it rung, Akha pulled one last time and let go, Stephanie passing out from the pain fell to the outside of the Asylum.

Lotus had lost her rematch opportunity and it was over. Akha helped up the dazed Jessica to her feet as both women left to the back dodging the garbage thrown.

El Janito Vs Adam Nowell

Again.

El Janito: The Mexican Stereotype wasn't exactly too thrilled about having to fight Adam Nowell this evening, but it had to be done. Beef had already lost to Hans Krueger in ridiculous fashion. Would the same thing happen here?
Knowing Janito, more than likely.

Steve the Rambling Communist followed Janito to the ring, carrying Oddjob the Stepladder with him. If this fight was between Steve and Adam, the decision would be in far more doubt than a fight between Nowell and Janito.

"One Armed Man" by Project 86 hit.

Adam Nowell, the other half of the Asylum tag team champions, Syndication, walked down to the ring. He had his title over his shoulder and a really irritated look on his face. Maybe he was still pissed about the eyebrow comments Janito had made a few weeks ago.

Nowell climbed into the Asylum, and from there, the fight was on.

Kind of.

Nowell found himself running around the Asylum, chasing a seemingly scared-to-death El Janito. This happens for about a half a minute, with commentators Mike Malone and Jean Paul both commenting on what an idiot El Janito was. Janito suddenly stopped and held his hand out for Nowell to stop. Much to Nowell's lack of judgement more than anything, Nowell stopped and looked at Janito with his eyebrows raised.

"Dude, esse... could you wait there for a second?" Janito asked.

Nowell's eyebrows raised even higher.

Janito turned around and punched the referee as hard as he could right in the face.

The referee just stood there and wore an expression that could only be described as "WTFMF?!".

The referee was about the ring the bell for a disqualification, but the outside referee climbed into the Asylum and stopped him. Nowell just stood there and had an expression similar to "What the fuck?" on his face.

"Dude, there's no disqualifications in the Asylum." the second referee said.

"But he HIT me. Blatantly! That's so stupid! Why would he hit me?" the acting ref complained.

"Maybe he wants to make this a no contest." the second said.

"But it'd make more sense to be a disqualification." said the first.

"There ARE no disqualifications!" argued the second.

"But what about last week against Villam?" the first rebutted.

"Come on, that was Murray. Murray's a fuckwad." the second said.

Janito shrugged and approached the two referees before tapping both of them lightly on the shoulder.

"Can I have a say in thi-"

BAM.

Both referees, at the exact same time, connect with a punch to the forehead of El Janito, sending him crashing to the floor of the Asylum cage. A third referee, probably Murray, entered the Asylum and began to count down Janito, who appeared to be unconscious.

Nowell couldn't believe this was going down.

Nine.

Ten.

The bell rang.

"Dude, Murray, why the fuck did you do that?" the first referee said.

"Well, he was down, and you two weren't paying attention, so..." Murray responded.

"Ugh. I need a fucking beer." the second said.

"Me too." the first said. With that, all three referees left the Asylum cage, leaving a STILL unconscious El Janito and an incredibly confused, yet victorious Adam Nowell, who didn't even get to touch El Janito for the fight. Nowell shrugged and exited the Asylum, leaving Janito to stir awake in the Asylum mesh.

There were only four words on Janito's mind when he woke up.

"What hit me, esse?"

How glorious, this was Joe Campbell’s favourite Sunday Show time… fuck all time. He paced the corridors, seeking out those whom he employed so that he might make their life even more of a misery than it currently was, stopping to admire himself in a mirror, paradise quickly faded away.

“Mr. Campbell! Mr. Campbell!”

Joe rolled his eyes, only a few people called him Mr. Campbell… the cheat sluts he could afford at the weekend, and the scum… yep, the scum… they all fell into the typical crew worker/security guard/low card variety, couldn’t wait to make his ass a cleaner place.

“What?” Joe said, turning his head to see a fat security guard pacing toward him.

“I think you’d better come see this.” The guard replied, catching his breath and leading Joe around a few corners to his office, there… smoke could be seen emitting from the doorway, Joe pushed it open to see several crew men extinguishing his desk which had clearly been set ablaze, as Joe approached it, he noticed something sitting in his chair.

A mock wooden gravestone.
"Had the misfrotune of crossing paths with The Few. So it was written,,,"

Joe sneered.

“That fucking twat… oh well, an eye for an eye.” Joe finished, picking up the wooden gravestone and setting off at pace.

Synn Vs Deicide

A stranger to Asylum television parted the curtain, it appeared as though Deicide was back… strolling down the aisle, he made a few nonchalant gestures toward the crowd, before clambering up into the Asylum and awaiting his opponent, none other than Synn… the crowd didn’t expect it but Deicide knew this would likely be full blown war.

“The Fight Song”

Marilyn Manson’s words echoed through the arena as Synn slowly but surely made his way through the curtain… half way down the aisle, he stopped… raising his arms aloft in a crucifix which would surely…

SMACK

… leave his guard down for just long enough.

Joe Campbell exploded through the curtain, blasting Synn in the back of the skull with the gift left on his chair, the mock wooden gravestone… Synn fell to his knee’s, but quickly staggered up as Joe’s eyes widened… before his hands dropped the weapon and he set of at run to the back, Synn lifted the mock gravestone… and prepared to set off.

Smack

Deicide.

Not willing to wait, Deicide was upon Synn, hitting him with several hard rights and lefts, he took him by the hair and dragged him down the aisle, clearly still dazed, Synn was in no position to defend himself, quickly whipped to the steps by Deicide, who sent several still kicks into the ribs of his former mentor… a few solid punches followed before Deicide snatched Synn up and tumbled him over and into the Asylum, Synn tried to rise to his feet, still clutching the mock gravestone, he rushed at Deicide as he entered the Asylum, taking a wild swing.

And missing.

Deicide ducked to one side, and as Synn turned for a second shot, he never got it.

Crunch.

A solid DDT to send Synn’s face hard into the canvas, as Synn rolled over, Deicide slowly got to his feet, taking with him the mock wooden gravestone and stepping back across the Asylum several paces, Synn staggered up once more, as Deicide set off at run.

SSSSSSSSSSMACK!

The wooden gravestone, propelled with force by a rushing Deicide, exploded around the head of Synn, splinters jabbing into his face as he fell to the canvas a bloody mess, the referee starting the count as Deicide mockingly held his arms out in a crucifix over Synn’s fallen body.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10!

“Bible Basher” hit once again, Deicide making an exit to a not so favourable reaction from the crowd, Synn still lay motionless in the Asylum, perhaps regretting his previous actions after paying a dear price.

The theme of Pain and Suffering roared on throughout the stadium as Clayton walked out from behind the curtains with a dreary look on his face and a microphone in his hand. He slowly plodded down to the ring as Drake Kerrigan followed behind him with the same unenthusiastic expression. The fans looked on curiously as they stepped into the cage.

Clayton walked to the middle of the ring. “Okay, Campbell. So, we’re here now. You want to put my life in jeopardy, fine. But the lawsuits are definitely coming your way if I get hurt in any way here ton-”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH, CLAYTON!” The fans cheered as Drake cut Clayton off.

“I’ve heard enough. Your incessant rambling was the reason I speared your guts out last week, and I’m prepared to do it again tonight if you push me any further.” Drake said coldly. “But, it’ll be worse this time. Much worse.”

“Yeah, okay tough guy. You’ve gotten your fan reaction, all right? Now, the reason why I’m out here right now, standing next to this asshole is because I need to issue a challenge to any tag team in the Asylum who wants to take us on.” Judging by his voice, Clayton was clearly uninterested in a fight.

Suddenly, Fatboy Slim’s “Weapon of Choice” begins to blare on throughout the arena as the fans let out a huge pop in anticipation of Mega Job… but the theme comes to a sudden stop.

Clayton rolled his eyes. “I know the Asylum has a few disgruntled employees, but quit playing around with the sound-”

Clayton is cut off once again, as “Suffer” by Staind cuts in. Two interesting looking men make their way out from behind the curtains with microphones in their hands. They come to a stop halfway down the ramp as the fans look on in confusion.

One’s a bald and muscular Japanese male dressed in black karate pants with a dragon design swirling up the side. The other, a tan Caucasian male with a good build, spiked black hair and dressed in the same attire. Neither of them have shoes on.

Clayton chuckled. “So… this is the best you can throw at us, Joe? Fine. Let’s go… run on up here, kids. Just make sure you don’t stub a toe on the way up.”

Looking at each other, the two men begin to approach the Asylum. Clayton and Drake watched them, as Clayton continued to mock their presence.

“Come on, don’t be afraid… after all, we’re just silly Americans.” Said Clayton, waiting for the two mysterious newcomers to enter the cage.

They approached the Asylum fighting area; Clayton dropped the microphone while Drake put his fists in the air, pointing at the tallest, Caucasian male to come his way. The shorter Japanese man grabbed onto the top of the 4-foot mesh cage structure and leaped over, as did the Caucasian male.

Pain and Suffering Vs Mystery Men

Drake was hit with a swift roundhouse kick to the back of the head, he fell to the ground, holding his head he looked up as the a palm was thrust right into his nose. As Clayton worked on the short Japanese man, he noticed his partner on his knee’s… something he wasn’t about to let continue on.

Running towards the tall Caucasian fighter he leapt into the air hitting a pump kick into his face. Drake got back onto his feet, grabbed his hair and thrashed his head into the cage. The second attempt was swiftly blocked when the man put his hands on the bar, a struggle of power began, but Drake was pushed backwards when the tall Caucasian man spun around and started to throw wild punches.

Clayton on the other hand, had good control over the Japanese man. As Clayton locked him up, setting him up for a Russian suplex, which was reversed easily, his partner quickly came from behind with an axe handle over Claytons back, Drake quickly drilled the man with a spear taking him to the ground but Clayton was gasping for air, as he was hit hard, knocking the wind out of him.

As Clayton gained control of himself, he saw a quick flash run by him, turning around, the Japanese man had leapt onto the fencing and flipped off, hitting a corkscrew plancha on Clayton. The crowd was pleased with the move as Drake pulled his adversary up. He grabbed a hold of his pants, while locking him up for a suplex. Lifting him in the air and falling back he hit a basic and simple suplex, stunning the man.

The small Japanese man held his back as he got up off the ground; Clayton was still back down on the mats looking up into the heavens it seemed. The small Japanese man yelled something aloud, his partner quickly jumped up onto his feet. Both men were corning Drake, who instead of backing up any further threw punch after punch fighting through them. The men started gaining control when Clayton came from behind and put the small Japanese man in reversed inverted DDT.

Drake squared off with the tall Caucasian man. Drake threw a punch but it was blocked by a forearm, and again with the opposite forearm. Drake getting frustrated put all his might into one punch, the man ducked as Drake went threw with the punch… he stumbled past him. Drake was grabbed by the arm and chopped in the back of his neck, as he reached up for his neck the chin of the Caucasian man hit him in the face, he was kicked right of his feet and as he was falling to the ground the foot of the man came down on his chest hard.

Clayton was working on the small Japanese man with a few different techniques, some sleepers. Drake was down and out; Clayton all alone tried protecting himself. The small Japanese man got up, putting a 2 to 1 ratio on him. The small Japanese man grabbed him from behind, allowing the tall Caucasian to plant some reverse kicks and hard punches in the gut, as Clayton stumbled forward the Japanese man jumped into the air, spinning around in 180 he kicked Clayton in the back of the head, and on the way down, another 180 he kicked Clayton in the side of his left lung causing him to fall to the ground.

The two men began to put a work on Clayton, Drake started to get to his feet, he saw Clayton being beaten heavily but didn’t hurry up, he instead took his time… waiting for the perfect time to attack. Drake saw an opportunity when the tall Caucasian was behind the Japanese man, he ran forward and grabbed the man by his waste, and lifting up past his thigh he hit a sidewalk slam.

The Japanese man let go ahead of Clayton’s head when he say Drake up on his feet. He ran forward and leapt into the air, attempting a roundhouse kick threw the air, Drake caught him with one leg over his shoulder, and he pulled his other leg up and hit a Powerbomb on the small Japanese man.

On the ground, the Japanese squirmed around holding his back. The expression on his face showed how unprepared he was for the Asylum. Drake went back over to the Caucasian man, pulling him by his hair. As he was pulled up, he threw a punch into the gut of Drake, shouting at the top of his lungs. Dropping to the ground, he swung his leg around knocking the feet of Drake right out of underneath him.

Clayton Richler started to move, as did the small Japanese man, both began to throw punches at each other while getting up. One punch to another, fighting back and getting knocked back. Clayton got the hardest punch in making the Japanese go to hold his jaw giving Clayton a chance to attack.

He leapt forward going for a flying lariat of sorts. The Japanese man avoided the lariat by dropping to his knees, as Clayton pasted him he jumped up and connected with a chop to the back of the neck. The Japanese man put Clayton in a headlock and began to dig his elbow into the back of his head when Drake pushed himself up and ran forward.
As Drake dove towards the Japanese man who had Clayton in submission move, he felt the foot of the Caucasian man rampage right in his face. Hitting a back flip kick into Drake’s head sent him spinning sideways. Drake’s arms flung up in the air, and he hit the mat hard.

Clayton charged toward the Japanese man with his right arm extended, but the Japanese man ducked the lariat and suddenly nailed him with a 180 Degree Spinning heel kick. Clayton collapsed to the mat.

Drake pushed himself up just in time to see the referee administering the “10” count to the unconscious Clayton Richler and signaling the end of the match.

The two mysterious men rejoiced as the Asylum fans cheered loudly in appreciation of the match. As they left the Asylum fighting area, Drake walked over to the center of the cage and looked down at Clayton. He kicked him in the side a few times… finally; Clayton began to show some signs of movement.

Clayton stumbled to his feet while holding his head in pain. He gazed up at Drake, who was staring down at him menacingly.

Drake grabbed Clayton by the shoulder. “What happened?”

“… Ugghhh, my.. my head… shouldn’t have wres-”

“YOU FUCKED UP AGAIN! THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED!” Drake screamed, spewing some phlegm on Clayton’s face in the process.

Drake’s eyes were practically glowing with rage. “Is this how it’s gonna’ be here, Clay!? WE’VE BEEN MAKING A FUCKING JOKE OUT OF OURSELVES!!!” Drake’s roar resounded throughout the arena. “No… no… YOU’VE BEEN MAKING A FUCKING JOKE OUT OF ME!!!”

Drake cracked his elbow against Clayton’s skull, sending Clay’s body down to the mat with a disgusting ‘THUD’. The fans looked on in a concerned shock as Drake walked out of the cage and stormed off to the back.

Contessa Vs Brittany

Contessa and Brittany stood face to face ready to...'get it on'. Literally.

Literally, because before Brittany could land the first blow Contessa shoved her tongue down her throat! Instant cheering from the fans of the Asylum. 'Sex, wins 'em over everytime' Contessa thought to herself as she bit down on Brittany's bottom lip and followed it up with a knee to the gut. Conteesa then began to strip Brittany down...first tearing off that leather jacket!

Brittany stumbled away. Contessa charged into Brittany running her nails down her back! Ok, now Brittany was pissed. Brittany out of nowhere turned around and cold cocked Contessa one to the face! And followed that up with many more punches...the size advantage was quickly becoming a problem as Brittany gave Contessa a Belly to Belly suplex flinging her over her shoulders like a sack of potato's...

Contessa struggles back to her feet and Brittany charges in...only to be spit in the face! Contessa follows that up with an elbow Jab to the throat! And roundhouse! Left Jab! Left Jab! Spinning side kick! Brittany backs off and Contessa presses on the attack rubbing her knuckles...preparing for her "Breast Feeding Pains" trade mark....Contessa connect's! Left and Right! Left and Right! Causing those hooters to shiver like a...something that shivers alot.

Contessa hops into the air!! Drop kick to Brittany's Breast! NO!!

Brittany moves out of the way. Contessa get to her feet and is hammer to the mat by a clothesline! Contessa spring up again! Punch! Punch! Punch! Kick in the gut...and Brittany set up for the powerbomb...

Lifts her up....

Big Mistake.

Contessa pushes her pelvis hard against Brittany's neck and closes her thighs! She tightens and girates causing Brittany to slam her down to the mat..but to no avail! Contessa continues her "Auto Erotic Bloom". Brittany's face boils up red looking like Contessa is squeezing the blood from her neck into her head! It's knockout or tap out.
Brittany taps!!

Contessa jumps up and celebrates like a school girl! The ref awards her the win and the crowd cheers her on!

Contessa...undoes her straps and exposes "herself" (meaning her yummy, yummy titties!!!) to the fans of the Asylum!!

Contess smiles...having made a lasting impact on her first night.

So he wanders, aimlessly. Well, there is an aim. To find the Syndication, his friends, people who he believes are his friends at least. Little does Cheno realize that these people can't stand him, annoyed to no end with the antics he produces.

But Cheno didn't have anything planned today, he didn't have anything interesting to do.

At least, he didn't, until running into Joe Campbell.

Campbell was walking around backstage, which was also somewhat odd for him. It seemed that the majority of his time recently was spent backstage, alongside Cheno's friends. Cheno let out a smile, as Campbell let out a sigh.
"What the fuck are you doing Cheno?"

"Just funkin' walkin' mang. I ain't gat shit ta do mang."

Campbell slyly looked away, before a smile came on his face. "Well, if that's the case Cheno, why don't you face Azrael Ravenell tonight?"

"Why da funk would I do dat shiznit mang?!?" Cheno said, standing back in shock. He didn't come prepared to fight tonight, he came prepared to walk, and toke, and walk, and toke some more.

Campbell back-peddled, trying to think of a reason for Cheno to fight the former jOlt star, when suddently, inspiration hit. "I was talking to Hans, and he was saying that Azrael was... making fun of Hans' mother." Campbell said, trailing off in a statement that he didn't think could fool anyone.

"Hans' mother is a good funken bitch!" Cheno shouted. "I'll funken do it mang!"

Campbell nodded as Cheno walked away, getting ready for his fight. Campbell's expression turned into glee. "Got that fucker off my back..."

Azrael Ravenell Vs Eddie Cheno?

"Smoke Two Joints" by Sublime hit as Eddie Cheno came out to cheers from the crowd, but suddenly a commotion began in the Asylum: Milo Samus had jumped Azrael behind, taking Azrael down with a double axehandle. The bell rang, and Eddie Cheno looked down the rampway to the Asylum, shrugged, and lit a joint, making his way out of the Arena as the fans cheered Milo's surprise attack.

Milo began the the match be grabbing Azrael from behind with a release German Suplex. However, Azrael managed to flip out of the move as Milo lifted him up. Azrael then grabbed Milo's head from behind, and drove Milo's head to the concrete surface with an inverted DDT. Azrael sneered at the fans as the referee began the knock out count to give Azrael the quick win.

Milo easily got up at two, and Azrael eyed Milo, quickly kicking Milo in the gut. The fans were booing as Azrael locked Milo in a cobra clutch sleeper hold. Milo began to fight off the move, but eventually the lack of oxygen to the brain caused him to lose conciousness. The referee then began to check to see if he was completely out of it.

He lifted Milo's hand once, and it fell.

He lifted Milo's hand again, and it fell.

He lifted it for a final time, and it stayed up as the fans went wild. Azrael stared in shock as Milo began elbowing Azrael in the gut. Azrael stumbled back, and Milo spun around, kicking Azrael in the gut. He then hooked Azrael's head under his arm, and DDTed him onto the concrete.

Milo got up almost immediately, and lifted Azrael up at the count of five. He turned Azrael around, and hooked his head and leg as the fans in attendance what he would execute. He then began to lift Azrael into the air, then dropped him onto his head in mid-air, completing a fisherman's brainbuster.

Both men were down as the referee began the knock out count. The refere got to five, and then Milo began to get up. At nine, Azrael began to get up, and Milo prepared to set him up for another attack, when he received an unwelcome surprise from behind:

Token Weed

Token sneered at the fact that Milo had begun to dominate in the match, and kicked Milo hard in the thigh. He then grabbed Milo, and spun him around. He then jumped up into the air, and hit a pump kick which he called the 'Jumping Pump Kick'.

Milo collapsed to the canvas, and referee made the ten count, making Azrael the winner. Azrael then got into Token's face, and started to yell at him for interfering in his match. The two men exited from the Asylum, and a minute or so later, Milo got up, and made his way out of the Asylum. Although Token Weed had fucked him up again, he smiled as he made his exit.

The flush of a toilet was then heard as Campbell exited the washroom and looked over at Drake. “What now?”

Drake suddenly lunged at Campbell and grabbed his shirt collar. “WHAT NOW!? WHO THE FUCK WERE THEY!? THEY NEARLY KILLED US OUT THERE!”

Joe shook his head. “Get your filthy Motown hands off of me.”

After a few awkward moments, Drake let go and Joe sat down at his desk. “Now, look… I, as the President of the Asylum, certainly have no obligation to tell you who those two were. Your job is to fight.”

Drake was ready to explode.

“… BUT, simply because I’m such an all-around, good-natured person, I shall distil some information to you. They’re from Japan, both of them. I ordered them like mail order brides, really. I just heard they could fight like hell, nearly suicidal. Sounded like a good buy rate to me, so I had them imported.” Joe said with a devious smirk on his face.

“Miyabita ‘something’ and Itsu ‘whatever’… they call themselves the Silent Assassins.” Said Joe.

Drake stood frozen, staring off into space as he heard the name. “The Silent Assassins…?”

Joe chuckled. “Yeah, that’s it. Real ‘menacing’, huh? They certainly managed to walk all over you two tonight. And hey, you certainly did a number on Clayton, too. For the second week in a row! Heh… anyway, that’s your own problem. Now, get out of my office.”

Drake wasn’t listening anymore. “… I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have…”

He simply turned around, opened up the door, and left the room with a despondent look on his face. It was, perhaps, a look of fear… or perhaps, a look of sheer regret.

El Janito, one third of Mega Job, came staggering down the hall, exhausted from his match with Adam Nowell. He was panting for a drink of water, but unfortunately Nerva had flipped over the table and water cooler.

He didn’t quite know what to make of the situation and hoped he could tiptoe away from Nerva the PMS machine. But, he wasn’t so lucky.

“You!” said Nerva. “What are you trying to sneak away from?”

Janito froze. “Uh, I really just, uh, wanted to—”

“Sneak up behind me and blindside me? You want to fight me? Is that what you want to do, Janito?”

Hoping it would get him out of the situation, Janito nodded. “Yeah, uh, yeah, that’s it!”

Her face turned red. “OK, that’s fine. I’ll see you out there tonight. And hey, I think you meet the requirements to compete in the Women’s division – no bass in your voice, long hair, penis not showing despite a tight costume – so why don’t I put my title on the line too?”

“But, but… I just had a match. It must be like against the Asylum rules to fight twice in a night!”

“Well, we’re massaging the rules tonight, fucker.” With that, Nerva picked up a cooler and whipped it at Janito, who screamed and ran away. Unfortunately for him, Nerva gave chase and grabbed him by the hair. She smacked him off of walls and tables until they reached the entrance deck.

Nerva(c) Vs El Janito
(Women's Title)

“Please, Nerva! Please!” said Janito.

Nerva kept walking forward. Janito panicked; he knew he had to do something. He went straight for the guardrail, hoping to jump over, but Nerva grabbed him by the hair just in time. She slammed his head into the steel mesh, and then pulled him up the stairs and into the cage. She shut the door with her free hand. The bell sounded. Nerva struck Janito with a punch to the face, and then kicked him right between the legs.

She did a lift-and-drop takedown, and then quickly stamped him in the groin. Janito rolled up to his knees and held his hands together, praying for Nerva to stop the violence. She shook her head and roundhouse kicked him in the face. She pulled him up by the hair and whipped him head first into the cage. Janito’s forehead dripped with blood.

He pulled himself up against the cage, and then his eyes suddenly widened. “Wait a minute! I could get myself out of this mess by hopping out of the cage! That way, the match would be over and it would save me loads of injuries!”
Then he realized that he shouldn’t have said that out loud. Nerva ran towards him and pulled him back into the cage, as he was halfway out. He was on the brink of crying. Nerva turned him around and back fisted him down to the mat.

He stood up and managed to fire a chop across her chest. He went for a super kick, but Nerva ducked it and hit him with an ax kick onto his shoulder. Before he dropped to the mat, she locked in the testicular claw.

Janito screamed, but Nerva threw him to the ground before he could make any sign of tapping out. Nerva dropped down to her knees and decided to go for another move. She bit Janito right between the legs, causing him to wail out and tap wildly. The ref quickly called for the bell, but Nerva wouldn’t let go. He tried to pry her off of Janito by waist locking her, but her grip was as tight as a vice.

Nerva tore off the fabric on Janito’s costume covering his lower extremities, causing many fans to cringe and look away. She sunk her teeth in yet again with vampire-like intensity. Blood was dripping down the sides of her mouth and staining the mat as Janito was squirming like a fish on land. Beef came down to the cage to help Janito, but stopped at the steel steps.

“Hmm,” he said. “Should I really help Janito? I mean, it kind of looks like he’s getting some for once. Yeah, I’d better just leave him alone. I know he’d do the same for me.”

And with that, Janito’s troubles continued for another minute. Nerva took her teeth out of his lower area and spat out a load of blood. She snatched her title out of the ref’s hands and headed down the aisle, feeling a little cooled off.

EMTs meanwhile passed by her carrying a stretcher for Janito.

"So, friend...how're things holding up?"

"Ah, things are holding up great. Well, great as in that there aren't any big fuck ups going on...yet. How about you?"
Villam smiled. "Yeah, that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I need a favor...I want to see to it that two certain individuals have a match tonight...."

Joe smiled a bit after taking another swig of scotch. "I take it you mean...Impetigo?"

"and Rave."

Joe laughed a bit. "Ha, and why pre-tell would they fight each other?"

"Well, a #1 contendership is the brass ring they'll be reaching for. Not that it fucking matters. They won't win. I'll...well...She'll make sure that."

The camera slowly turns a bit to see Almighty leaning against the wall.

Joe and Villam laugh manically.

Inmate Vs LLB

It was exactly what Joe Campbell was looking to achieve, neither LLB nor the Inmate had fallen into line in previous weeks, and neither of the two had been easy to deal with, there was even a time that Joe thought he could conform Inmate but recent weeks had proved him wrong, LLB? LLB was simply another problem that Campbell didn’t need.

But alas, a plan.

Harness their destructive powers and then unleash them upon each other, this way… Campbell could simply sit and watch the carnage unfold, it was genius… this way, he’d surely be rid of one of the two in no time, he’d just keep setting them upon each other until one was no more… literally; as cold as it sounded.

A strange atmosphere greeted the match, fans not quite sure who to cheer, Burton had stabbed them in the back, and Ermann was a wrestler, pure and simple… neither really had the fans behind them and this was clearly portrayed as the two made their respective entrances.

“I Disappear” hit up first, Inmate securing the last of some tape on his hands and making his way down to the Asylum with a cold emotionless face, this… for him, was gametime… a chance to prove his worth once again following a close defeat at the hands of Rave Caprino at Conflict, Inmate was a former Asylum champion; and being the current Extreme champion… violent tendencies were a regular occurance.

Bam.

Lights out.

Black and white strobe effects started to fill the arena, and as the initials L L B exploded onto the video wall, the man himself parted the curtain and strode confidently down to the Asylum to the sounds of “Points of Authority” by Linkin Park, this was complete, total and utter crunch time for the lawyer, his first battle since consecutive heavy defeats to Angel Dalton, he had to win.

The typical brash entrance faded away and the atmosphere suddenly picked up, no hesitation in LLB or Inmate as they approached each other and stood nose to nose, some customary words of an unpleasant nature were exchanged, and LLB stepped back, shaking his hea…

SMACK

The crowd exploded… not so much in glee or hate, but in amazement, LLB had delivered a truly thunderous slap across Inmate’s face in front of the live crowd, jarring his head to one side… this was without a doubt the proverbial glove strike, and the pistols were now well, and truly drawn.

Inmate’s head slowly came back around, a firm red handprint on the side, LLB walked straight up to him, no sign of concern in his…

SMACK

Favour returned.

For every action, there is a reaction.

And LLB’s was rapidly different to Inmate’s, where Inmate had remained cool following the slap, a blow across the face sent LLB into a blind rage, never before had he been so embarrassed, ironic considering that a simple slap had been the root of it all, he charged in the very same blind rage, spitting, cursing and swinging his arms wildly, but suddenly, experience kicked in.

Inmate snapped up a flailing arm and quickly pulled LLB in, straight into a solid jab which would’ve rocked him back had Inmate not maintained the grip of his wrist, quickly dragging him in again and absolutely flattening him with a clutch wrist exploder suplex!

The side to LLB however that garnered his reputation swiftly kicked in however, durability, persistence and pure refusal to be the lesser man, who was back on his feet in a flash, tackling down Inmate and nailing him about the face with several hard rights and lefts, Inmate desperately trying to get his arms up to avoid the blows, he rolled and took LLB with him as he did, returning a few strikes of his own as the two separated and rolled in their own respective directions.

Inmate’s eyes suddenly widened, leapfrogging, he narrowly avoided LLB’s trump card… the Erroneous Conclusion, the powerful LLB rushing through Inmate’s legs and barely avoiding a collision with the steel mesh, suddenly however, he was unable to move, Inmate securing a firm grip around his waist, and tossing him backwards with a high angle release German Suplex, the adrenaline was now pumping fast however, LLB once again bouncing straight back and rushing at Inmate.

Dragon screw…

SNAP!

So simple it was terrifying, one lapse in concentration had suddenly put LLB’s victory chances in severe doubt, he struggled and grimaced as Inmate clenched the hold, but the fire’s were still burning strong within, LLB gripping both of Inmate’s ankles and tripping him, flowing through and raising the crowd to their feet in respect.

Testify

Locked in, a sharpshooter that Inmate now struggled desperately to evade, LLB was now pulling the strings, and leaning back into inmate’s spine as he struggled to do anything in order to escape, the crowd were now hot, the end seemingly near, Inmate however felt otherwise… grabbing each of LLB’s ankles… and pushing them apart, to the extent where LLB could no longer properly balance the hold, forced to relinquish his grip.

The two quickly spun up again, snarling… furious at the technical displays the other had shown, they rushed toward each other, fists clenched, drawing back… ready to commit murder, ready to destroy the other man… ready to… to… to…

Stop?

The crowd once again uttered in confusion, LLB and Inmate jarring to a halt just short of each other, it’d resembled someone simply pressing freeze frame, but suddenly… motion returned… albeit rather strange.

A smile.

A handshake.

The gesture which changed it all, Inmate and LLB, although still fixing a demi glare on each other, were exchanging a firm handshake amidst battle, no doubt… a sign of an agreement of some sort, perhaps LLB and Inmate weren’t as easily manipulated as Campbell had thought.

“What the FUCK!? WHAT THE FUCK!?” LLB and Inmate rolled their eyes and turned, they’d been expecting it and subliminally the crowd had too, the seering voice of Joe Campbell’s discontent.

“What the fuck is this? A fucking gay pride parade? Fight damn you! Kill each other! WAR I SAY!” Joe sneered, LLB and Inmate simply smirking to themselves.

“Well, what the fuck are you fucking waiting for!? Fight… FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!” Joe cried, spitting with rage as he did, LLB folded his arms and Inmate placed his hands on his hips, if defiant gestures were required, these were certainly doing the job.

“Oh? Its like that is it? Well then I’ll have to do it myself won’t I?” Joe continued, snapping up a chair with a somewhat odd sense of security.

“See… this is what happens when you ACK!” Joe stopped in his tracks, he’d gotten somewhat carried away, clambering into the Asylum with a chair, he was soon grabbed by Inmate, who placed a solid hand around his throat and snatched the chair away.

Crack

And planted it into the top of Campbell’s skull with a thud, Joe stumbled around, jelly legs… before his eyes widened just as Inmate’s had earlier, this time however… he wasn’t in a position to evade.

CRUNCH

A conclusion of erroneous magnitude, especially for Joe Campbell, who could never have seen himself staring at the arena lights at the end of the match, LLB sent him down with a wicked spear, and for Joe… this quarter of the game was over.

Inmate and LLB made their way out of the Asylum, laughing to themselves at a pitiful Joe Campbell who clutched his ribs and coughed heavily.

But what would be the eventual price of their deception?

Time, as always… would tell.

Rave Caprino Vs Impetigo

"I am Hated" by Slipknot...and that could only mean one thing...

Rave Caprino.

He entered in quite the foul mood still pissed about what went down on last weeks Sunday Show. Rave disregarded the cheering as he jumped over the rim of the Asylum and kicked in some of the wire meshing as if he looked to repeat what he did last week.

Then..."Conserve" By Big D and Kids Table hit. Impetigo came with Wonder Hanna to the cheering crowd and wasted little to no time starting a vicious attack on Rave!

Impetigo's punches did not let up as he forced Rave against the wire meshing. Rave resorted to a Boxing type defensive and lashed out with a kick to the stomach on Impetigo! Impetigo let up only for bit before grabbing the back of Rave'ss head and monkey flipping him into the center of the Asylum. Rave sprang to his feet as Impetigo charged in with a clothesline...

Clothesline ducked.

Impetigo turns around.

Rave let's loose with a number of chin shots that send Impetigo stumbling backward...Rave takes him down with a spear and pins him to the mat and a rolling struggle insues, each man exchanging punches to the ribs and face...Rave let's loose a ripping punch to Impetigo's ear and locks him in an armbar.

"Come on, Imp!!" Hanna yells. The crowd cheers both men on not really taking sides in this match up. Rave rears back...but Imp uses that force to twist and scamble across Rave's abdomen and lock in an Armbar of his own.

Impetigo twists for all he's worth and renders Rave face down locking an Reverse Armbar....and Impetigo adds in some kicks to the head basically looking to have the match snagged. Hanna reaches under the Asylum and throws in a steelchair. Impetigo releases the hold and blows Hanna a kiss...Impetigo takes the steelchair from her and walks back over to Rave...raising the chair...

But no.

Rave levels Imp with a no nonsense uppercut to the balls!!

However Impetigo doesn't cease in using the last of his energy to Drop the chair down on Rave's head with a resounding CRACK! Both men go down in a crumpled heap...

Ref prepares to count both men...

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

A blood curdling scream peirces the arena the camera focuses...

On Hanna.

And Villam Ender.

The screaming and crowd immense booing causes Impetigo to slowly gets to his feet...only to see Villam pull Hanna down from the Apron of the Asylum and twat her one dead in the mouth. Impetigo eyes fill with Rage and he gets to his feet...only to punched in the balls again! by Rave Caprino. Villam stalks up the steps and opens the door to the Asylum making his enterance...Rave still busy doesn't notices the sound of a man holding steal chair and a sledgehammer inching his way...closer and closer.

Villam claps the Steel Chair and Almighty together....

Rave turns around...

Steelchair thrown and caught...

Dinner time for Almighty

And of course the Sledgehammer makes a deafening dented impact with the chair crushing the face behind it!
That was Ender's Game...Thanks for playing.

Villam threw Almighty to the Ground and picked up the steelchair and let down hard and fast on Raves beaten form. Over and over the steelchair struck each time Rave's body moving less and less. Impetigo got up and tried to sneak from behind...

and Villam swung 180 degrees nailing Imp in the head with the side of the steelchair.

Life Muted In Utero.

Hanna was up!

Hanna charged into the ring with a bat and swung!

Villam ducked.

Hanna turned around.

Sidekick from Villam!!

Villam dropped the chair, laying it flat against the mat and picked up Hanna in a suplex. And drilled her into the chair with a sloppy Brainbuster. Ok, fuck...that was it. The Asylumers in attendence threw in cups and whatever trash that was handy all of it falling short of it's target. Villam ignored them and dragged all of their beaten bodies in the center of the ring....Villam then grabbed Almighty whilest being handed a microphone...

"Look what you've made me do.

Impetigo. Look at you...Laying there with that whore of yours...your blood mingling together like melted red crayons. And why? Because you couldn't be loyal. Because you wouldn't swallow your foolish fucking pride and accept your role as a man in the service on the Asylum. You could've been somebody. Now, you're just my BITCH. I'mean...what part of...'you are NOT worthy' don't you understand? Hmmm? Now look at you...

Just.

Horrible.

Simply Horrible.

I'm talking Hypnosis Horrible. You where Hypnosis is? Wrestling. Because his weakling ass couldn't cut it in Fighting. "

The crowd jeered Villam as it was very clear who was really horrible.

"And you....Rave?

After your shit fed closed down you came crawling back to the Asylum, like a little bitch. And Joe...out of the goodness of his HEART...Let you stay. And what do you do? You fucked it all up. You repay him by throwing a fucking temper tantrum and destroying the Asylum. Heh, let me give you credit though...

You did one hell of a Job. I couldn't have done it better myself. Well, fuck...on second thought...yes I could have. See, you son...are just trying too hard. So, not only are you deducted points for your shitty execution...you are going to get it extra for trying to...be like me.

Everyday you are here Rave...I'm going to make your life a living hell. Everytime I see your fucking face...Almighty and I are going to hammer it in. Everytime you open that mouth, I'm going to put my fist in it. Every-fucking-time you strut around here like the cock of the walk...I'm going to kick you square in the dick. And this WILL occur...Time...after TIME.

Until...You leave.

Leave, Rave.

Go Back.

Go back home to your checkered Van's shoes and your ripped jeans. Go back home to your white suburban home and your paved driveways. Go back to jacking off to Slipknot posters. Go back to your psuedo pussified subculture.

Leave, Rave.

You don't want to go down this fucking road.

But, HEY.

Don't listen to me...I don't care. But, consider this.

I'm not Borst. I'm not Inmate. I'm not Joe. I'm not the little society that you're against. I am none of these things. There is no line that I won't cross. There is not one thing that I won't do. And by the time you realize this. My cock will be slapping against your tender mouth. And the fucking trigger will be as good as pulled.

Now, think the fuck on that."

And with that..."Downer" By Nirvana hit and Villam left the bodies in a slow moving heap in the center of the Asylum.