Upstairs someone opened a door and Campbell quickly backed up into the darkness with his hands flat backwards to search for a wall. With one quick motion, someone grabs his neck and chokes him. Campbell yelps and gasps for air, trying to call for help as he sees two janitors, carrying mops and brooms, walk down the stairs laughing and talking.

Something shushed him. It was the quiet whisper of the man telling him to stay silent. The janitors exited out the doors without seeing the two and the gripped was loosened.

“You fucking twat,” Campbell said angrily. “Don’t you ever lay a finger on me agai-“

“Shut up Campbell,” the deep voice said quietly. Campbell could tell it was the man he was looking for by his voice. It was distinct and he didn’t need a light to know it was him. “Alright,” the man said. “I told you that I’d never work for you again Campbell. If my father finds out that we were discussing…

business…

Here he’d get pretty angry. And Campbell, if he gets angry, I get very angry.”

“Is that a threat?” Campbell trigger finger twitched but he calmed down. He needed this to be done. “Okay…okay listen. No one suspects you of doing anything right now, its as if your not even here. I’m paying you to fight, and now…

I’ll be willing to pay more for you to fight again…if you get what I mean.” Campbell smiled at the thought of the Stranglehold on their knees.

“I get what you mean,” the man said. He cracked each knuckle one at a time. “I’ll do it Campbell.”

“Great, you’ll be my next star. The next Borst. I promise you, you’ll get whatever you wan-*guh*“

Again cut off with a hand wrapped tightly around his throat.

“I told you Campbell. I don’t work for you anymore. What I do, I do for my own kind. I’ll get rid of your…demographic…problem but its for my own kind. You worry about the rest.”

Joe walked towards the door, lighting a cigarette. “Don’t you screw me,” he warned. He was about to leave before he heard the man chuckle.

“I’m the least of your worries, Campbell.”

The Asylum roster sat waiting, most of them present but as always... a few absentees, none the less, they all sat impatiently... fidgeting, slowly building up like a pressure cooker of emotion that was ready to explode.

Many of them didn't like each other, in fact... many of them couldn't count more than five people around them without easily being able to establish two of which that they would happily kill, the Asylum roster didn't belong together, it was never meant to be... but now here they were, against their own will.

Crisis meeting was how it'd been portrayed, truth be told... it was anything but, this was not a Joe Campbell round up, and this was certainly not a Joe Campbell rebellion, so why didn't they just get up and leave?

Factors.

Not the shitty mathematical variety that nobody gives a fuck about, but the simple factors... the factors of life itself, at every door in the room stood a Stranglehold member or two, and there's an old term... united we stand, divided we fall.

Nobody was going to get up and rush those doors, and given that the Asylum fighters didn't like each other anyway... they certainly weren't going to collaborate their efforts, but this was not all... people had been watching the Show last week, they weren't deaf, they weren't blind... and they hadn't been living in a cave on the moon.

Chris Universal was the man in charge now.

And the people standing on the doors were fractions of his united front, you strike a Stranglehold member... you might as well strike Chris Universal, you strike Chris Universal...

... you lose your job.

Not a very entertaining prospect, for most departing the Asylum... the grim reality was that they would either go back to the underground, which unfortunately was only the same as what they were doing now sans a couple of extra zeroes on the paycheck.

And those that didn't... usually got swallowed up by the shit that was general life, convictions... death... or even worse for most of them.

Back to wrestling.

Regardless, they couldn't afford to cross the boss... so unfortunately, they remained in their seets, uttering complaints and disgruntled insults.

And then just like that, the main doors swung open.

Exxa Decimal and Chris Universal paced into the room and at once, everyone in it skipped a beat, if looks could kill... then both Decimal and Universal would have died roughly thirty horrible deaths right on the spot.

But unfortunately... kill was something which a look alone couldn't achieve... and therefore, Universal and Exxa continued their confident stride into the room packed full of Asylum fighters.

Exxa took a seat as his Stranglehold compatriots ambled over and sat beside him, but Universal remained standing, slowly pacing toward a small stand with a microphone atop of it... the crowd quietened to a hush, as Universal leant forth.

"I look before me here tonight, across this talent roster which Joe Campbell has assembled, talent mind you... being a word I shall use very loosely on this occasion, and I see nothing but mediocrity."

Universal paused... the rest of Stranglehold shifted somewhat surprised in their seats.

The room had fallen silent, but it was the calm before the storm... someone was going to rip Chris Universal limb from limb, mediocre or not... if he didn't redeem himself.

But Universal was a business man, not an idiot... redeem himself he did.

"But only in the now, only at this moment in time do I see mediocrity... I see a roster of potential that has been stifled, subdued into being less than average... Joe Campbell has squeezed the talent from each and every one of you, which brings me to a question which I'm sure many of you have speculated over these past few days."

A few fighters nodded their heads in agreement.

"Contrary to the popular belief my friends... I, Chris Universal... am not here to destroy the Asylum, I never was... and neither was my good friend Exxa Decimal, no... I mean you only have to consider the fact that I am a shareholder in this company to realize that doing damage to this promotion would not be in my best interests.

I look before me tonight... and I see a world of possibilities, a world of opportunity and a world of talent which is begging to be rescued... rescued from where it is now.

I see a world heavyweight champion who rarely arrives at events on time, in Tyler Burton.

I see a monster capable of mass destruction, shacked down by the people around him, in Archangel.

I see a gifted and talented wrestler who has been reduced to nothing but a lowbrow brawler, in you Steve Christ.

I see..." Universal trailed off for a second or two, leaning over to Exxa Decimal.

"Are they doing what I think they're doing?" Universal chuckled.

"Yes, the village idiots are putting on another fine display." Exxa scoffed back.

Universal blinked and cleared his throat.

"I see two individuals with many wrestling abilities... that... that feel they must turn up to events naked in order to draw attention to themselves... Chris, Avo... please sit down."

Avo Chavez and Enrique Credibleno had turned up without their clothes... if people weren't going to pay attention now, they never would.

"What has he done? I'll tell you what he's done... he's reduced all of you to nothing, shell's of human beings that are made to believe that they are expendable... well I have news for you ladies and gentlemen... expendable you are not."

A few smiles, smirks and content utters echoed through the room.

"So now I pose the question... what will it be? Will you fight the never ending war with Joe Campbell and walk headfirst into a battle on a mediocre side that cannot and never will win.

Or will you come with us? With the Stranglehold, to turn this hellhole around and run it at maximum potential... will you break free from the chains which bind you and be all that you can be...

... or even, just be a human being again?

Let it be known, that with this new order come changes... no longer will you be treated like cattle, ready for the slaughter at any minute... the killings will end, the late Show's will end... down with disorder... for order is about to be restored.

What do you say? Are you with me?"

Nobody roared out in agreement... but they didn't need to, this was going to be a drawn out battle... people would make their choices in good time.

"Very well... then maybe we should start at the top, what about you Tyler Burton... what about you Inmate... are you with Stranglehold."

Universal stepped out from behind the stand and paced over to the Asylum champion, who sat with the title draped over his shoulder, chewing gum and generally looking disinterested.

"Think carefully about this Burton... you of all of them, have far more to lose."

Universal smirked arrogantly, before reaching out and placing his hand on the shining Asylum championship with a firm grip.

THWAP.

Only to have it quickly swatted away... before Universal could react, the Inmate was in his face, nose to nose.

"You ever fucking touch that again... you'll be retracting nothing but a mutilated stump, you prick."

Tyler pushed past Universal forcefully, a few members of Stranglehold looked to stand from their seats but were urged to sit back down by Exxa Decimal.

"Such a shame Tyler, I really would have liked to have you on board, but so be it... if you won't bring the title belt to us, we will take it from you."

Inmate turned, his face red with rage.

"You want this title faggot? Fine... I'll see you in the ring, you pussy."

With that, Burton blasted open the conference room doors and exited.

"Not I Tyler... not I." Universal uttered with a sinister grin, before turning back to rest of the roster.

"As for the rest of you, you are dismissed... please, thing about what I've said... and be sure to watch the rest of the show carefully... because those absent minded enough to miss this conference are going to be punishes for what they are..."

Universal handed the microphone to Decimal, who spoke.

"Sinners... sinners one and all."

With Stranglehold's promise in place, the Show continued.

Providence.

The Asylum TV Champion walked through the door with his dark hair hanging down over his face. The TV belt dangled from one hand, while his gym bag was strapped over his other shoulder. One of the workers walked up to him and, despite the smell of Providence’s unwashed body, placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey man,” the worker said surprised, “I didn’t expect to see you here after what happened last week. Are you-…”

“I’m fine,” Providence said quietly. Before the man could say anymore, Providence walked ahead and around the corner to a hallway. About halfway down, he stopped and dropped the TV belt to the floor. He reached into the bag and pulled out a needle, then tossed his head back to get his hair out of the way.

One look at his face, and you could tell that he was already high.

As Providence started to prepare the needle, one of the doors a few feet away opened.

However, Providence didn’t seem to be paying any attention to it and continued with the needle. A moment later, he saw that someone was standing in front of him.

LLB.

“What?” Providence asked as he looked up. “You want a hit or something?”

LLB looked into Providence’s eyes for a moment, showing nothing - no anger, no sadness, no smile…nothing at all. Then, LLB simply shook his head and walked away, leaving Providence standing there with the needle.

He reached his co-locker room door and pushed it in. Then taking the Windex bottle and extending it out, Miles made sure that Faith was clear from his path before he walked in.
But, as he did... Faith was nowhere to be seen.

Taking a deep breath of fresh air, Blunder tossed his gym back across the way and onto the steel chair that sat there. Another night it was. Another loss it was, too. Dream had defeated him in front of a world-wide audience, and it was not a pleasant image to hold on to.

Let alone that now, with a new Owner at the helm in Chris Universal, who knew how he’d reaction to Miles Blunder’s pathetic ways. Universal didn’t see ‘The Germ Gestapo’s’ homemade wrestling video that got him into the fighting Asylum. He saw what everyone did...

He saw a failure in the cage.

Miles took a seat on the small, beaten down sofa which sat to the left-center of the room. He placed his Windex bottle right beside him though, and watched the door... just incase Faith was going to enter.

Hopefully, Miles wouldn’t have a Match tonight either... and everything could, for once, go his way.

The officers were lumbering around the room now. The atmosphere had taken a change for the worse. It was boring now that they ran out of stories that made you want to push the cotton tip into your ear a little farther next time. But gloating was what these cops lived for.

The door suddenly flung open, bringing in another load of police officers. They stopped at the door for a moment, then the theme song to “Cops” boomed loudly. The other officers inside of the room immediately turned heads to the door. Out stepped five more police officers with drinks in their hands and hookers at their side.

They stared…they blinked.

“YEAAAAAH!”

The party had started.

Police officers pelvic thrusting, grabbing hooker’s breasts, and guzzling down beer were a disgraceful sight… but it did happen. Where it was happening was put aside as one of them turned the volume up. Everything else was drowned out…except the excitement that raged on.

Bad boys, bad boys
What ya gonna do, what ya gonna do
When they come for you.

Nicole heard it loud and clear as she turned the corner. The song she heard so many times while training for the police force. All that it stood for turned her stomach as she stopped at the doorway to see the disgrace before her.

The respect she had for them was destroyed, but she didn’t pay any attention to that. Instead of turning furious, she was sunk down low.

Her attention was focused only on one thing.

One thing in their hands as the party raged on…

The alcohol.

The road to hell never seemed so short.

Joe Campbell had turned up for the Show, five o'clock shadow... a pair of tartan boxer shorts and a pair of military boots he'd stolen from an Army Surplus store years ago... and a simple yet tattered and torn tA fuckhead logo shirt.

He looked like shit.

But given the circumstances, he might as well have been.

Campbell, reduced to a shell once again.

Clutching in his right and left hand... the bare essentials, pistol and vodka bottle... nothing else really mattered as he ambled down the corridor like a lost cause, he'd turned up to attempt some paperwork and make some phonecalls that could screw or shoot Universal out of his shares in the company.

Instead he'd arrived at a locked office door with a nice green dollar sign on the door.

"That cunt." Joe slurred to himself as he continued to pace the halls.

"Well, well, well." A voice replied, as Joe suddenly spun around and drew back the hammer on his pistol.

"Now then Joe, you really are stepping up your attempts to be a bit more inconspicuous like I asked aren't you... drunk and disorderly, posession of a weapon with intent to kill.

You don't pay me enough to ignore this shit."

How interesting, a cop... Joe squinted at the serial number and name under his badge.

"Ah... fuck off Quaid, what would you prefer... payment in cash or payment in bullets... either way you twat, I'd keep you quiet... dodgy coppers are ten to the dozen around here, you remember that."

Officer Nicholas Quaid laughed and placed a hand on Joe's shoulder.

"Yeah, but not all of them have friends in high places over at FBI and CIA town... you need me just as much as I need you pal, so let's just try to get along... got somewhere that we can talk?"

Joe scowled at Quaid.

"I did... until money bags the cunt came along and bought it, come on, we'll go to my makeshift office."

Five minutes later, Campbell and Quaid sat in their own toilet cubicles.

"So anyway Joe... I have a few routine questions." Quaid coughed.

"Eurgh... ahem... questions? I pay you not to ask those Quaid... what the fuck is going on? I... fuck it, pass me some bog roll, I'm out."

Quaid raised his eyebrows.

"You better not be taking a shit while I'm interrogating you." Quaid uttered, rolling a toilet roll under the partition.

"Well fuck me, I'm sorry... I forgot what a crucial role my arse played in answering these questions."

Quaid smiled to himself, there were a hundred smart ass remarks he could hit back with... but he valued his life.

"Ah man... I know I'm supposed to keep the questions at bay... but it's the deal with your wife bro... she got pretty fucked up at the PPV, she ain't a member of staff and she ain't dead... so you know that I'm going to struggle to clean that shit up." Quaid uttered.

"Ah fuck... I almost forgot about her, listen man... I'm fucking dealing with it, you just keep your rozzer mates away from here and do your job, I'll find the fuckers that hurt her and when I do, I'll be sending a few more bodybags your way to dispose of." Joe sneered.

"That ain't the issue man... she's been doing a lot of talking you know? If she gets to the press with this shit, it's gonna be your ass and mine too." Quaid said with concern, loosening his tie.

"Listen Quaid, chill out for fucks sake... how does twenty grand sound?" Joe coughed.

"Twenty grand... for what?"

"Nothing difficult..." Joe began "I just want you to fuck off and burn any files with relation to this case, I'll deal with the rest... the bitch and the guilty party, alright?"

"Yeah... okay, but this isn't internal man... the culprit I can dig, but what are you gonna do about your wife?"

"I'm a man of many talents, you should know that by now." Joe snarled.

"That sounds interesting." Quaid pondered to himself.

"Yeah... well I don't pay you to be fucking interested... so lest move."

One flush later, Joe exited his stall as did Quaid... the two walked out of the toilets and nodded to acknowledge each other, before Joe paced away.

"Hey man, you're trailing." Quaid voiced up, pointing at a strand of shit stained toilet roll stuck to the bottom of Joe's boot.

Joe turned and looked down.

"And?"

He sneered, before turning and walking away.

"Villam! Villam! Hey! Wait up."

Tyler chased me down the hall, catching up to my brisk pace. Putting an irritatingly sympathetic hand on my shoulder he said, "Listen man, I don't know if you heard or not...but...I just wanted you to know that whatever happens out there tonight - were still friends."

I laughed as I turned around and slapped his hand off of my shoulder.

"I don't have any friends." Tyler stepped back a bit, seeming to be shocked. Then he looked off in the distance and sighed.

"Yeah, well...in any case...good luck out there tonight. Let's take it easy on each other, ok?"

"Whatever."

I spun on my heels and headed to my dressing room.

You might recognize him, if he didn't look so gosh-darned different.

His long brown hair was very messilly thrown about, his eyes were bloodshot and very tired.

His Arizona Diamondbacks jersey, though clean at the moment, would probably soon be meeting the contents of the man's stomach at any moment. This is because he was very severely drunk at the moment, if the bottle of vodka he was waving around wasn't evidence of this fact.

Two weeks ago, this guy wouldn't have been caught dead in the Asylum, except when it involved something called "Immortals".

However, the circumstances were different. Very different.

And if Action! Wrestling's owner, Reed Young, was watching the Show at this very moment, he would be very, very agitated to realize that the man in the front row of an Asylum Show was his very own Action! Wrestling champion.

Joey Malone

"It's tough at the top." Universal laughed to himself... placing his head in his arms.

What he didn't expect, was a reply.

"YA."

Universal sat up swift in his chair to see Hans Krueger standing before him cracking his knuckles, the door was closed and probably locked.

"Zis you vill learn mein herr." Hans chortled, stepping toward Universal menacingly.

"What do you want Kraut? Your release papers? Because another step... and that's the next thing you'll see."

"AHAHA! I think not, ze next sing' vill be your blood." Hans chortled... before suddenly snapping forward and in one shocking motion, grabbing a handfull of Universal's hair and slamming his face to the desk, jumping over it and holding it down.

"Now you vill listen to me scum, Joe and I... ve vant you out now... so pack up and leave before sings' get unpleasant." Hans sneered through clenched yellow teeth... grinding Universal's head into the desk.

"They already did you son of a bitch, so here's how we'll settle it... you and me in the Asylum... you win, I go, sound fair?" Universal gasped.

"Fair." Hans uttered, releasng Universal and stomping proudly out of the room.

Universal slowly pushed himself up, blood tricking from his lip he dusted himself off.

"Fair? That's what you think Nazi."

Nerva slipped her top on and saw Lotus in the mirror. She turned around and walked towards the Women’s Champion. “I highly suggest you get out of my face. Don’t think I forgot about what happened last week.”

Lotus pushed her rich black hair back and slung the Women’s Title belt over her shoulder. “So your match tonight -you think you’ll win?”

The smile on Lotus’s face made Nerva angry. Lotus pressed her forearm against the door when Nerva tried closing it. Nerva noticed that Lotus had grown stronger. Either that, or Nerva had grown weaker.

“Do you think you’ll beat Nicole Carson?” said Lotus. “You recruited her. You should know all about how tough she is. Like me, she followed you under The Movement. You should know all about her strengths and weaknesses. You should win this match. You really should.”

Lotus patted Nerva on the cheek and walked away. Nerva slammed the door.

“Oi”

Campbell looked visibly shocked at Hughes’ actions.

“What the f…”

“No Campbell, you listen to me. I’m sick and fucking tired of being treated like a piece of shit around here. I don’t give a fuck about your little games you’re playing with Universal; I’m in this for me. Now Campbell, after seeing LLB’s pitiful comeback last week, I decided I want a piece of that action. I want to make it extreme”

A smile appeared on Joe’s face. No matter how much he hated Steve Christ, he knew the man could and would give a beating to any man put in front of him.

“Sure.”

Ty was surprised. He hadn’t expected Campbell to fold that easily.

“Oh, but you won’t be having that shot yet, you can wait til Manhunt. That should screw up your hopes of winning it!”

Joe burst into laughter again, once again screwing over The Hypnotic One. Ty however didn’t seem angered; in fact he looked happy, for he had a plan, for he knew Campbell was a cunt.

“Oh, by the way Campbell, let me introduce you to a friend of mine. And when I say ‘friend’, I actually mean representative. And when I say ‘mine’, I mean Nike. Yes, let me introduce you to a representative of Nike.”

A look of utter confusion was on Campbell’s face. One that could only be described as ‘fuUK?’

I told you I was gonna make your life a living hell. Well this man here has some papers for you over your recent choice of words.

“Mr Campbell. It has come to my attention that not only have you been using the Nike slogan, “Just do it” repeatedly on your shows, but you have also begun passing it off as your own.”
At this point the man pulls out a t-shirt with “Just Do It” written on the back, and the fuckhead logo on the front.

“Fuck.”

Is all Joe Campbell could muster.

I’ll leave you two to it Ty said as he walked out the room smirking.

On the other side of the coin, Drake maintains his indifference. He sees no reason to complain. Fighting, wrestling, eating, sleeping, fucking, whatever. He ticks through his time like a perfunctory clock. There was a time when he had a seemingly ceaseless will to succeed, but something has managed to strip that will away from him. He’s been getting his paychecks week in and week out - that’s good enough for him, he thinks.

Surely, the same soul-draining parasite of depression and dreariness that comes with the sordid world of organized fighting has managed to mend itself into the despondent hearts of Clayton and Drake. They are now, truly, in pain. They are now, truly, suffering.

And now, two hapless ratfinks who, for some reason, call themselves ‘cHEESE’ and ‘egg NOG’ are gradually chopping away at what is perhaps the final straw that binds the team of Pain & Suffering together.

A pubescent, soda pop-swilling, bespectacled kid with putridly bleached hair shows up at their locker room door holding a curiously stained manila envelope. “What?” says Clayton as he hovers over the kid, already becoming impatient.

“Special delivery, courtesy of the Legion of Dairy!” shouts the obnoxious kid as he holds out the envelope. Clayton hesitates before snatching it out of the kids’ hands. The kid remains standing there, as if expecting some sort of a tip. Neither Clayton nor Drake take very kindly to the derisive antics of the Legion of Dairy, and they especially dislike it when the LoD’s brainwashed minions incessantly pester them.

“Fuck off!” shouts Clayton, but the gutsy kid remains standing there. “I gotta’ stay here… they said so. I’m the messenger,” says the kid. Clayton restrains himself from snapping the kid’s neck and simply slams the door in his face.

Clayton begins to open up the envelope as he walks back into the locker room, half expecting the bag to explode in his hands. Drake comes over, adjusting his wristbands with his tag title draped over his shoulder. “What’s that?” he asks.

Clayton hauls a single piece of paper out from the envelope. He squints to read the twisted calligraphy: “YoU hAve TWO opTions! YOU hand us oVER the tag TEAM titles, OR YOU must fIGht an opponent of OUR chOOsing!!! … IF, for Some REASON, you decide to FIGHT… … then the name of YOUR OPPONENT is on the back of THIS PAPER!… …”

Clayton turns the paper over to see the name: “LONNIE CLARK” written in capital letters.
All PandS can do is chuckle at the LoD’s anemic attempt at intimidating them into handing over their titles. Drake, scratching his beard and smirking, finally says, “Forget it, Clay. It’s not worth - those two are just a big fucking waste of time.”

“No, no,” Clayton replies thoughtfully. “You see, that’s just too easy. Those cow-fucking pricks have finally found the wrong team to ridicule with their sarcastic stupidity. The last thing that the Asylum needs is another Mega Job! Let’s go out there and absolutely murder their little friend. It’ll be fun, trust me.” Clayton grins, clearly impressed with himself. Drake, however, looks a lot less enthusiastic. “Alright,” he says. “Whatever, man.”

Clayton rushes back over to the door, opens it up, and tosses the paper back at the kid. “Tell them that they’ve got their fight,” he says sternly, and the kid finally runs away. The time for true pain is upon the LoD, and Clayton Richler certainly knows it.

Somehow, that helped him calm down tonight.

Miles Blunder started to fall asleep. He couldn’t help it. Sitting there for over twenty minutes with noting to do, and not much to think about, it was a hard task to keep awake.

The door opened.

Blunder lunged forward, grasping his Windex bottle as he held it in front of him. And there, Faith entered the locker room, dropping off her bags in front of the door as she closed it behind her.

She then faced MB. “Oh. Hi.” She said. She wasn’t as friendly as last week... last week was an alright time for her. She got an upper-hand on Nicole Carson, so everything was going well. But tonight, it was just a normal one. “How are you Miles?”

Faith walked forward, picking up her bags as she set them down beside Blunder’s. Blunder shook his hand hard, which still held out the Windex, as his facial expression was trying to say “What the hell are you doing? Stay still or I’ll shoot!”. Sure... it seemed like a joke to everyone else, and even to Faith at the moment... but Blunder meant business. He’d do it. He had at least proven that before.

Faith glanced up, seeing Miles slowly rise out of the sofa as he took one step forward. “Oh Miles...” She said sternly. “You’re not going to shoot me... so just give it a break and be normal, okay?”

Blunder didn’t move a muscle. “Don’t move.”

Faith sighed. “I suppose.”

There was a pause. There were many pauses if you ever got the chance to meet Miles Blunder in person. He was an odd, strange kid, proving just that once again.

“Fine. You can sit.”

Blunder kept his Windex pointed in the direction of Faith as she walked over to the sofa and sat down. Miles didn’t go back to it, though. He just stood and backtracked away.

“What’s wrong?” She said. She didn’t care too much, but thought it was best to try and make some conversation with ‘The Germ Gestapo’. “If it’s your loss against Dream last week, don’t worry too much. I just checked the board tonight... and you’re facing Steve Christ for the Extreme Championship.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “I didn’t know they hand out Title Matches for loosing. But I guess they do.”

It finally hit Miles.

It hit him hard.

Taking a giant gulp, Blunder shoved the Windex bottle into his pocket as he opened up the locker room door and sped off down the hall.

The fans cheered. We don't know why, but fuck it, they'll probably boo the guy later on. All the fans knew was that it wasn't a wrestler, and it wasn't Chris Universal. It was Joe motherfucking Campbell, and he was pissed and possibly just a little drunk at the moment.

After all, he wasn't precisely the man in charge any more.

And he wasn't too happy about it.

Joe was fully content on entering that Asylum and there was no force on Earth that would make him stop.

Except for when the presence of someone happened to have caught his eye. He grabbed a microphone and marched straight over to this presence.

The presence of a severely drunk and sleep deprived Joseph Tyler Malone.

"What in the fuck? What are YOU doing here?!" Campbell yelled. Joey's blurry vision couldn't particularly see Campbell too well, and he had to look around to make sure that Campbell was, indeed, talking to him.

Confused, Joey pointed at himself, while generally looking in the direction of the big blur that was Joe Campbell.

"Yes, YOU," Campbell yelled, "What in the flying fuck do you want? I'm sorry to say, JOEY MALONE, that we have no sluts that you can possibly have right at the moment. Besides, I doubt they'd be interested in someone who had his own wife leave him for a fucking loser like Kent Anthason in the first place!"

Joey stood up. Vodka in his left hand, a rapidly closing fist in the other, he used his free hand to snatch the microphone from Campbell's hand. The fans weren't completely sure just what in the hell was going on. Sure, Joey was a wrestling champion, but he had earned some measure of respect when he offered to fight Kent Anthason instead of wrestle him.

Joey only said two words, but it sent the Asylum into an uproar.

"Fuck you."

Campbell, however, quickly snatched the microphone from Joey's hand before he could say anything else. Since Joey's grip wasn't that great at the moment, due to the vodka that was coursing through his veins, Campbell easilly got it back.

"Fuck me? FUCK ME?! No no, Joey, it is you that is fucked. Actually, no, because that couldn't be farther from the truth! You're not fucked, you haven't been fucked. Here, standing before me, is the only twenty-eight year old virgin I have ever seen."

And that was all Joey could take. He leaned toward Campbell, like he was going to hit him. However, that wasn't particularly the reason why he was leaning.

BRUUUUUUUUHHHHHHH~!!!!

That was.

Joe Campbell fell over in shock and surprise, covered in what could only be described as the contents of the stomach of Joey Malone. He yelled and he screamed. He couldn't believe what had just happened, and he immediately called for security.

They came.

They saw.

They quickly snatched up the drunkened and very confused Joey Malone, and dragged him away from the front row.

Joe looked down at the stains on his clothes, and cursed loudly.

"FUUUUUCK!!!"

Nothing ever goes right for Joe Campbell.

Nothing.

Poser isn't the only one there however. Another man, scrawny and pimply like a teenage kid just hitting puberty stood to Poser's left, leaning against the nearest wall. Poser paced back and forth, waiting.

That's when Eddie Cheno made his triumphant entrance into the Asylum. Poser immediatly raced up to him with a microphone. "HEY~!" Poser screamed in his face as Cheno simply gave him a long glare. "It's Eddie! Check it out! It's Eddie!" Poser said, slapping the scrawny man in his midsection with the knuckles of his hand. Poser immediatly clutched his hand in pain as the man groaned, not in pain, but annoyance. Cheno gave him a look of "you too," before Poser continued.

"Listen, this guy's name is Edd, and tonight, I'm going to be called Ed." Poser paused. "Get it?!" Cheno obviously didn't. "Ed, Edd, and Eddie?!" Cheno continued to glare, but then punched Edd in the face, knocking him to the concrete floor. "I think he likes you!" Poser whispered to the down Edd, before recieving a punch to his face as well. Eddie continued on towards his locker room area.

"He must really like you then." Edd sarcastically snapped, rubbing his jaw.

"Hail to the King baby."

The man wears a ski-mask, with the front adorned like the Asylum logo. Like a charred skeleton whose face is the only thing uncovered -- the figure moves forward, the hulking frame touching down against the tiles of the floor. It slips forward with thrusts of the knee, heading for something.

A bag, left-half open, with a shiny bit of metal under the fluroscents reflecting against a locker. A knife. Formerly Carnage's, now owned by Biggs Dangsta. The figure's black-glove laden hand grips the handle and pulls it out, slow and easy like, silent as a cat creeping around the big doghouse with a pitbull inside.

The shower water spray not more than ten feet away stops suddenly. The figure loses all form of grace, and gets to its feet. This black bulk stomps across the locker room, steps into the shower -- and there's nothing there.

When Biggs suddenly tackles him from the side and pulls him down, throwing him backwards, back into the lockers next to the shower room. Naked, Biggs rushes towards the bodied shadow, lashing his knee into the man's sternum. The man coughs, a deep bellow of one, and he drops the knife. Biggs throws himself onto his stomach, grabs his knife, and rolls away.

He grabs his crotch. Rolling on hard tile floor -- naked -- well, it doesn't tend to make his bits and pieces feel all too fine.

He looks up from a quick "matinence" check to find the shadow flying towards him. Both go toppling over as Biggs's knees give and bend backwards over the bench. The knife goes through the air, landing with a crash and clatter as it hits the lockers and rebounds, sticking into the bench.

The dark figure and Biggs reach a stalemate, rolling on the floor, bringing in tiny punches to the ribs and shoulders. Finally, the figure strikes Biggs in the collarbone.

"Don't you think you should go back where you belong...?" this skullface says to him.

And it rushes off. Leaving Biggs with only questions.

He grabs his knife from the bench, wrenching it out with a twist.

And he stares at the doorway.

Before he realizes the coldness of the room and decides to put on some clothes.

Even his employees looked at him differently. His authority had been dangerously undermined, and there was little Joe could do about it. He snapped his fingers, but now instead of people jumping they were laughing.

Well, he assumed they were laughing.

They’d pay. They’d all pay. Nobody fucked with Joe Campbell.

The knock on the door seemed odd, out of place. This was Joe Campbell’s office. Didn’t people just barge in?

“Come in,” said Campbell, slightly curious.

The door swung open. The six foot five, two hundred fifty plus pound figure standing in the doorway was a striking figure. The blank expression on his face, though, told Joe immediately that he wasn’t dealing with a Mensa-caliber intellect.

“Mister Campbell? M’name’s Enos. Enos Cantrell. Can I come in? I’m a really big fan.”
Joe blinked but said nothing. He knew many of the Asylum’s fans were less than bright. But this mouth breather set a new precedence in stupid.

“I see yer show all da time,” Enos continued, “I’m a big fan, like I said. An’ I don’t like how all these people just barge into yer office.”

Joe’s brain felt numb, probably from finishing off the bottle he had tucked away in his desk drawer. “What the fuck are you babbling about, cretin? If there a point to all of this, get to it.”
Enos nodded, still smiling. “I want a job. I wanna stop people from comin’ into yer office alla time.”

Joe’s first thought was to have this idiot dragged out back and beaten. But the more he stared at the gargantuan moron, the more he thought it might be entertaining to have someone like this at his beck and call. At least there was someone he could still boss around. This peon didn’t know any better. “You realize I couldn’t pay you, right?”

“S’okay. I jus’ wanna help. Mebbe I could get a t-shirt or somethin’?”

“I suppose we could give you the employee discount.” Which was zero discount, but why tell this mental midget.

Enos jumped in the air. “Yes! Oh I gotta tell my folks th’ good news! I’ll be right back!”

Joe watched Enos stumble out of his office. “My own three stooges, all in one,” he said dryly.

“How wonderful.”

Nicole stepped outside the room in order to clear her head. The door had closed behind her, and so did the images from the past. She placed a hand on the wall and leaned against it in order to calm down, though the ironic situation she was just placed in had been more out of a horror movie than real life. The similarities were almost the same. They were the same mistakes, but different people…people that should’ve known better than she had long ago.

”Some things never change.” Nicole muttered, her sweaty hand sliding off of the wall. Her eyes changed from shallow and calm to determined and focused. Her heart went back to the normal fast beating.

”But then…there are some that do.”

She pushed off the wall and started to walk from the room. Forgetting her past was easy with her confidence, and even so, she didn’t want to think of it ever again. She had bigger things to worry about tonight as she round the corner.

Her feet halted as she heard the swish of cans being moved…directly beneath her. Her feet collided with what seemed to be a wall of beer cans. Blood rushed to her face as she nervously looked in front and behind her, but could see nothing…nothing but her past haunting her one last time.

Then her body was weighed down. Before she knew it, boxfuls of cans were dumped over her head as she swerved left and right on her feet. Pathetically loosing her balance, she crashed onto the ground that dripped with alcohol. Almost suffocating, she reached hopelessly for something to grab onto.

She crawled and fell through the sea of cans that seemed to be never-ending. She tossed onto her back in the never-ending hell, and still couldn’t find her way out. During her struggle, her face had collided with a letter reading “Scars are souvenirs you never loose…your past is
never far.”

Nicole realized she was on her feet. The scene was playing out too fast in her mind for her to come to reality. She turned around in shock, only to see Faith standing there, guzzling down a bottle.

Faith’s lips curved into a wicked smile while she pulled out her lighter. She flipped up her lighter and spewed out a fireball with tremendous force. Nicole crashed onto the cans again, where she laid in a deep sleep.

Faith put the lighter back into her pocket. “Now that’s how you take care of someone’s past, bitch.”

Joe Campbell was inside another fighter's dressing area.

"Why you people weren't there last week I have no bloody clue," Joe rambled on towards the direction of his crew. Hans stood there at full attention while Eddie's eye's glazed over. Ian Maxwell cracked his knuckles and sighed.

"It was your idea for the match Joe," Maxwell stated. "It was your idea for the entire fucked up plan that's gone array, and might I just make SURE I'm still getting paid." Joe's eyes snapped towards Maxwell and burned a hole through him.

"Why weren't any of you out there to help me when I needed it the most!" Joe screamed towards Hans, who was still staring at the stoner before him, mumbling to himself. "Is there a problem Hans?" Joe quirped into Hans' face, before Hans' turned his attention to Joe.

"Vat iz za deal vith Eddie Joe?" Hans said in retort. Joe threw his hands up in a sigh.

"Eddie, offense should be taken," Joe sighed as Eddie turned his attention to the rambling owner. "is not a priority right now. I want us working on the same fucken page and if you two can't stop staring at one another like angry star crossed lovers." Joe paused as he broke up Hans and Eddie's glare of hatred. "That's it, I can't take this. I can't have one of my few stable defenses broken in two. Hans, Eddie, go out in the cage and solve your bloody problems, and when you come back, everything better be better than it was when you left." Campbell muttered to himself "because that'd make for some sort of improvement."

Eddie quickly turned away from the rambling Campbell and quietly left the locker room area. Hans was the first to speak up, as Campbell could be seen eying Maxwell in the background. Maxwell nodded and followed Eddie out. "I don't get it Joe. Ze Stoner is vorthless."

"No Hans, he's got more value than you can imagine. He's not just a fucken moronic weed addict like we all imagined. He's so much more." Campbell sighed.

"Ze can't be verth anyzing Joe. He can't do anyzing!"

"We'll see Hans." Joe sighed, "We'll see." Joe quietly walked over to the locker room door, slamming his foot into it before ramming his face into the hard wood in momentum. "Oh... pull. Bloody doors."

Joe Campbell's galmorous exit everyone.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Miles Blunder did just that beside the entrance to the Arena just now... and if the ground could decrease from every single pace back and forth, Miles would’ve been a good ten feet under by now.

He was moments away from facing Steve Christ... Steve Christ for the Extreme Championship.

How in God’s name was he booked in this?

Miles nervously placed his hands over his forehead, as he tried to breath in... and then out.

Breath in... and out.

It wasn’t working.

Blunder kicked the side of the wall.

Yeah, he saw last week’s Match. Who didn’t? Steve Christ took a returning LLB and beat him at the last second with a brilliant high impacted move off the top of the Campbell Tron.

It was said to be one of the best Extreme Matches of all-time.

Blunder finally stopped his pacing as he looked down at his boots.

And he was the follow-up act to that.

‘The Germ Gestapo’ would’ve fainted, if it wasn’t for his theme song starting up right then and there.

He took another breath in, only to exhale it sometime after. With a new Owner in Chris Universal, this was the time to start over; to start new.

This was the time to make something of himself.

And for a second... a shot of confidence hit him in the head just then. Maybe Miles Blunder COULD follow-up that act.

Maybe Miles Blunder COULD win.

Stepping out from behind the curtains and seeing the thousands and thousands of people boo him in the jammed pack Georgia Dome, Miles Blunder quickly muttered something to himself.

“I’m screwed.”

Steve Christ(c) Vs Miles Blunder
(Extreme Title)

There was no way... there was just, no, way.

From fighting LLB in an Extreme Championship Match that was said to be one of the best of all-time, to Miles Blunder... whom had not won an Asylum Match to date.

How in the hell was he going to outdo last week’s act?

In his mind: he wasn’t.

Blunder entered the cage, as Steve Christ’s theme began. The Fans went wild with cheers... as, ‘The Third Coming’ had...

Arrived.

Miles Blunder could only wait in the ring and blink... and twitch, oh, and want to die. Can’t forget that part.

Steve Christ walked through the opening of the cage, as he closed the door behind him and rushed towards Miles Blunder.

Clothesline.

The bell went; the Fans popped.

“What the fuck!?” Christ said, looking down and spitting on Miles Blunder. “Get the fuck up. I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

The Crowd laughed... as Miles Blunder literally rolled himself into a ball to cover-up.
“Oh... that’s it.”

Christ exited the cage, taking a steel chair as he entered again. “You shouldn’t have done that asshole.”

Walking over to the Challenger with force, Christ tugged Miles Blunder to his feet and picked up his steel chair again.

Blunder had his chance to do something, too, but he just wanted to stand there. If he did anything... he believed the Fans would laugh at him and he would mess up.

Whack.

Christ smiled.

Whack.

Christ laughed.

Whack.

Christ threw Miles Blunder out of the cage as the bell sounded again.

His theme cued up, as the Fans cheered wildly for Steve Christ. Christ threw the chair down, as he walked out of the cage and over to Miles Blunder, spitting down on him a final time.

“From the best... to the worst. Fucker.”

Christ began to walk up the ramp, however, just as he reached the top, Ty Hughes walked out behind him and blasted him in the back with his steel baseball bat.

Hughes looked at the Crowd, before turning around...

And walking back to where he had come from.

Names and debris rained down the crowd, but Providence was more focused on making it to the cage without falling down.

Finally, he reached the cage and grabbed a microphone. For a few moments, Providence simply looked out at the crowd, hearing their boos. He looked down at the TV belt in his hand, examining the shapes and letters on it carefully. He noticed a few of the ringside techs looking around frantically, obviously wondering when - or if - he was going to speak. Then, he raised the microphone to his lips and closed his eyes.

“Many of you probably came here tonight wondering if perhaps a new TV champion would be crowned. I know, because I heard the rumors too. They said that Providence was quitting the Asylum…that Providence was still in the hospital…that Providence was placed in rehab. One of them even said that Providence…was dead.”

As he slowly spoke the last word, the crowd cheered the thought wildly. Providence opened his eyes again and looked at the fans, as a smirk broke out across his lips.

“Well, I assure you that Providence is alive and well. In fact, I am more alive now than I have ever been before. I have been to the other side and come back, and that changes everything.

Nothing is the same for me. I now know what you people will never know…

“You can never truly experience life until you experience death.”

Some of the fans booed, but many of the other fans looked around in confusion, wondering if Providence was really insane or what was going on. But Providence continued with even more passion.

“I walked through these halls…I walked out in these arenas…I fought inside this cage. I did all of those things, but I was never alive…truly alive…until I died last week. When I stuck that needle into my arm and released that beautiful poison into my system, I did what no none else could do. I did what even God couldn’t do. I gave myself life!”

Now the crowd was booing loudly, half of them booing what Providence was saying and the other half booing because of how much he was saying. Meanwhile, Providence raised the TV belt high into the air before speaking again.

“I defended this belt before…against some of the Asylum’s best. I won, but I know I didn’t show all of you what I can truly do. That is why I am laying out a challenge to anyone who wants a shot at this. This belt says I’m one of the best, but I want to prove it. I want to show all of you that I am what I say I am. I want to…”

Providence’s words were cut off by the combination of music and a huge eruption of cheers…

“Black and White” by Static-X…

Giant pop…

LLB.

With a microphone in hand, LLB stood at the entranceway and looked down at the cage to Providence. The two men who had met up earlier locked eyes once more, with the crowd’s cheering playing in the background. Slowly, LLB raised the mic to his lips.

“OB-OB-ERECTION!”

Another giant pop.

“The courtroom finds you…”

For the last word, the crowd joined in with LLB: “GUILTY!”

‘The Law’ looked around at the crowd and then back to Providence. “Challenge: accepted.”

The two men locked eyes once more as “Black and White” by Static-X played again.

Not much had to be thought about this night.

He lost... and like Steve Christ had told him, from first in LLB... to worst in himself.

The chance to show everyone was ruined.

Blunder pushed back his locker room door, seeing Faith about three feet away as she approached the door to leave herself, but once seeing Miles there, she took a few steps back.

He pulled out his Windex and pointed it at her. “Sh- shut up.” He said softly. “I- I do- don’t want to hea- hear it.”

Faith didn’t seem that amused again, as she put her hands on her hips and looked dead into Miles’ blue eye and green eye.

“It’s not *that* big of a deal, you know. It could’ve been worse. On Pay-Per-View I did lose to Nicole Carson for the UK Championship, Miles, and everyone gets their own sooner or later.”

‘The Germ Gestapo’ blinked as he snarled at Faith, still holding up the Windex bottle as he backed himself out of the room and just left.

“Yeah... well...” Faith marched to the door again, as some of the guys in the Crowd whistled.

“I have to go, too...”

Pain & Suffering Vs Lonnie Clark
(Handicap Match)

For Lonnie Clark, the unknowing viticm, his reaction will come in the form of two very angry men.

Clayton Richler and Drake Kerrigan.

These two men that had been made the butt of several jokes and looked to take it out on someone or something. Today their outlet would be Lonnie. Two other men, some refered to as "cunning", had duped Lonnie into facing the Asylum's über-violent Team champions, Pain and Suffering.

Did Lonnie even know what he'd gotten himself into?

Dope's "Fuck The Police" blared over the arena's PA system. Drake and Clayton appeared under the Asylumtron as they headed for the cage. They were booming with confidence as they flung the gate open and walked into the Asylum. Why shouldn't they be? It was just Lonnie Clark.

LL Cool J's "Momma Said Knock You Out" started. Lonnie was about to come down to the Asylum.

Dear God, please watch over this poor soul as he ventures into the Asylum, possibly to his death. Protect him and allow him to leave with only near-fatal injuries. In your name we pray, Amen.

Lonnie looked concerned as he appeared under the Asylumtron. And for good reason, in the Asylum, Drake and Clayton smirked as they cracked their knuckles and waited for Clark to enter the cage and face them. Their title belts sat neatly on the time keeper's table, having been placed their upon their entrance into the cage a few seconds ago.

Lonnie started to walk toward the cage before stopping and taking a few steps back. Drake had walked over to the cage and opened it for Clark and motioned for him to enter with the two combatants. The fear Lonnie felt was oozing from his body as his forehead began to perspire. He wiped it away with his sleeve and took small steps towards the cage. Clayton could be heard laughing at Clark in the background as he finally reached the steps of the Asylum.

He placed his foot on the first step. The crowd's excitement started to build as Clark pushed off and put his foot on the second step.

Lonnie stopped. He looked to Drake, who was still standing next to the gate and quivered. Drake smirked as he backed away from the gate and stood next to his partner.

Lonnie was very uneasy about the whole idea. He had been tricked into this fight and tried on several occasions to back out of it, only to have cHEESE and egg NOG ignore his every word. He thought about just not showing, but it would upset the talent and he had remembered what Joe had told him from the beginning.

He had no choice. Either way, he was a dead man.

Lonnie stepped into the cage as cheers grew louder and fans began to clap. Lonnie Asylum debut was about to start.

*ding ding ding*

Lonnie was as quick as lightning as he attacked Drake first. The fans were caught off guard as Lonnie attempted a double leg takedown on Kerrigan. Kerrigan stood fast as Lonnie didn't have the strength to lift Drake off the ground. Instead Lonnie fell to the ground and held his legs tight.

Much to the amusement of Pain and Suffering.

Lonnie looked up at Drake and cried out, "Nuh-nuh-nnn-now you're my bbb-buh-buh-*"

*crack*

Clayton connected on a hard kick to Lonnie's rib, causing him to cry out in agony. Lonnie was still firmly attached to Drake's legs, however. Drake leaned over and donkey punched Lonnie's face into the canvas.

Lonnie let go. A small pool of blood started to form around his head as he didn't move.
Drake and Clayton hovered over their victim as the referee started the count. The whole while, two men slipped over the fan barricades and started for the time keeper's table.
It was cHEESE and egg NOG, better known to you and I as the Legion of Dairy.

They crept towards the time keepers table in hopes of not catching the attention of the two men standing in the Asylum. As the count reached seven, cHEESE and egg NOG grabbed the title belts off the table and escaped quickly via the crowd. The bell sounded as Pain and Suffering was awarded the easy victory. They turned to retrieve their title belts, only to see that they were gone.

The two looked up and saw cHEESE and egg NOG running through the crowd. Drake screamed in anger as he and Clayton jumped over the barricade and futilely chased after them. cHEESE and egg NOG had gotten the best of them for the third time.

The whole while, Lonnie lay in the Asylum, bleeding from the nose and mouth. It appeared that the pawn in this game had been forgotten once again.

Sucks to be you.

”Nicole!”

Her eyes opened to a slit. All she could see through her blurred vision was colors racing around. They mixed together only to part to blackness, until a voice had reached in far enough for her to actually use her eyes.

It was coming together now. Her vision sharpened while the person overdid her name, shouting it loud into her eardrums as if she could hear it better.

Finally, everything came back and the events that lead her onto a bed of cans snapped into her mind. Nicole could feel the starting of a headache up there, but was interrupted from someone tapping her shoulder.

“Hey, hey! You all right?”

Nicole pushed the beers cans off as she sat up. She felt her foreheadhead with one hand. “How bad is it?” she asked.

”I don’t know what the hell happened but looks to me like you got some slight burns. Nothing much. My guess is that you were lucky.”

It was one of the police officers that had partied in her room. His bladder couldn’t hold it any longer, due to the massive intake of beer, so he had to take a walk to the restrooms. He ended up taking a walk right into this disaster.

”What happened?”

She rubbed her eyes and paid no attention.

Another police officer stumbled upon the mess and shook his head, amazed. The beer cans at his feet were smoking and small flames licked the edges, though they had stopped nearing Carson. The fireball stopped just in time.

”Hey, what’s going on here?”

Nicole remained silent so the first officer turned around and shrugged.

They both were caring and one even said he’d go for the medics. She had shook her head on that one, but the room had gone to absolute silence while she cradled her face. Her hands lowered…

“DON’T JUST FUCKING STAND THERE YOU FUCKWITS! GET THE FUCK OUT THERE!”

The two gave each other an uneasy glare.

“GET OUT THERE!!” .

They obliged.

Eddie Cheno continued down the hallway not really recognizing Maxwell's persistent tone. Maxwell let out a groan. He obviously wasn't enjoying himself. "Listen Eddie, Hans, he's not that bad of a guy."

Eddie's face jerked back toward Maxwell's, his eyebrows raised in a shocked and confused state. Eddie rolled his shoulders before giving Maxwell the finger. Possibly it wasn't toward Maxwell himself, but just the words he had said. Cheno turned back around and continued his walk as Ian continued to follow. "I mean, the guy... er..." Maxwell stammered. "He donates to charities all the time. And, uhmm... er..." Lying's harder than Maxwell thought. At least, believable lies. "He also rescue's puppies from the pound." Cheno turned around, glaring at Maxwell's vain attempts to change Eddie's view. "And that ArchAngel? He's nothing more than everything that's wrong with this world. A self-righteous prick who'll step over anyone to get what he wants." That wasn't a lie.

"Hans... he's a loyal man."

Another truthful statement. The truth just sounds better sometimes.

Cheno sighed and lowered his head. He took the palm of his hand and ran it along his scalp, before tilting his head back up in a sympathetic gesture. Eddie turned around once again, and continued on his way as Maxwell let out a simple nod. His work was done.

"Fucker. Probably started a fight or something." the man said. He was tallish, with spikey brown hair with black roots. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. He wore a shirt with some unknown markings on it that couldn't be seen due to the beat-up old brown leather jacket he wore over it. He also wore a pair of jeans, which were seemingly very new.

"So, this is the Asylum." he said to himself, with a sigh.

"What a fucking dump." he added with a sneer, followed by a spit upon the Georgia Dome's foundations. "I swear to GOD, the least they could do was find a decent shithole to host this place. I mean, ATLANTA? Christ in a motherfucking cartoon, why don't you just piss on WCW's ashes, while we're at it?"

The man took a look back at whom he thought was some drunk, and laughed again. "Or just take that fuckwit over there and let him vomit everywhere."

His statement, of course, couldn't have been farther from the truth.

The man entered the building with a shrug, and would proceed to idly complain some more. Of course, if this man had figured out the identity of the drunk that had just been thrown out of the building, he probably would have freaked out.

Faith Vs Police Officers

But what was most noticed was something she was carrying on her shoulder.

The UK Title.

Faith had somehow taken it off Carson and onto her own waist. She was showing how defenseless Carson was, as she shined the belt up and raised it into the air. Faith tossed it onto the canvas and then stepped inside of the Asylum.

She jogged in place and pumped the air with her fists, readying for the fight. “The Blood, The Sweat, The Tears” By MachineHead started and was drowned out by booing. They awaited the arrival of Nicole Carson, though there was no sign of her immediately.

After a minute, Faith became restless and stopped pumping the air. The smug grin returned to her face and she nodded toward the entrance, knowing that Nicole wouldn’t be coming out. Her music started up again, the crowd turning anxious and a bit annoyed, as nobody appeared once more.

People stood on their seats when two figures walked out. They sat back down, seeing that it was nobody important. Two men from your local police department were walking down the red carpet toward The Asylum, which was no place for a normal man. Both were sporting wider grins than Faith’s.

They lacked courage to fight, but somehow got enough to be pushed through the curtain. Now they had enough, seeing they would be fighting a woman. It would be more like picking apart someone than a real fight…they thought.

They weren’t in bad physical condition. Both were surprisingly muscular and trimmed of fat. They stepped inside of the Asylum and charged at Faith.

They swung with force, though Faith ducked under both. Their fists slammed against the Asylum rim, leaving them defenseless as Faith tackled one. The other soccer kicked Faith but she was too fast, springing to her feet, and slamming him back with a fist.

He stumbled on his feet but reared back with another punch. Again…it was too slow and she easily evaded it by ducking under, only to follow it up with a Blood Flow DDT. A screech erupted through his throat as his head popped off the canvas. Then stopped when his back hit, leaving him clutching his neck and wriggling in pain.

The other officer was on his feet.

WIFF!

A baseball bat blasted Faith’s hair back. He did another home run swing, though Faith hopped back allowing the bat to swipe the air. She went in for a roundhouse kick but the bat cracked her ribs. She leaned over, the officer raising the bat into the air for a knockout, as she sprung to life and palm struck him to the throat.

Faith continued with rapid shin kicks then finished up by palm striking him in the throat. She didn’t stop until he stepped back wheezing. By then she had already dropped him on his head with a modified half nelson, his eyes slowly shutting and then twitching uncontrollably.

The other officer should have stayed on the ground, because he was just lining up for another beating. He held the aching in his neck from Faith dropping him down with a DDT, not even putting up an offense as he stepped closer.

Faith leapt into the air and her foot spun, the sharp point of her boot piercing his neck with deadly accuracy. Her feet hit the canvas and then he fell, his eyes shutting much like his friends.

The two were out of it and the count had started. Not one moved a muscle as the count came to three. At five they were still out of it and there wasn’t much hope for them to get onto their feet.

“The Blood, The Sweat, The Tears” started up again.

Faith turned toward the entrance and saw nothing.

She screamed for Nicole to come on out. There was no answer…nobody came…

She turned around.

Only to get clothesline out of The Asylum.

She tumbled over the wall and flipped onto her back, seeing Nicole Carson holding the UK Title in her grasps.

Faith cursed her as she quickly climbed onto her feet in perfect condition. Even the crowd couldn’t help but start a “Bullshit” chant from the ending.

Carson gave Faith a deadly stare in the cage and Faith stared right back.

Both demons locked horns …knowing only one thing.

This was far from over.

It would all come to a head sometime.

And when that time would come, it would be x10 bloodier.

“Hey, Universal, I’m Ty Hughes.”

“I know who you are Hughes, what do you want?”

“I ain’t here to stir up any trouble; yet, I just wanna have my debut at Manhunt. Against Steve Christ. For the Extreme title.”

“And why would you want that.”

“You’ll see later, look can I just have your word on the match?”

“Yeah, sure, knock yourself out.”

“Right.”

Ty turned and left, no thanks, no handshake, cuz he had a final part to play to get this match rolling. And all he needed was his steel baseball bat.

"Ze Cheno," Hans said. "Cheno has no value. Vat's zis MANG zing he has? Zat bong? Ze is a vaste of time!"

"No Hans. I showed you the report, you know how much value he could have." Joe sighed.

"ArchAngel may be expendable Hans, but Eddie isn't. Eddie is important for the future."

"Ze future? Vat about ze now?!?" Hans' expression changed dramatically. "And vat about me? Am I expendable?"

Campbell blinked. "Listen, just bloody well don't screw this up." Campbell slammed the phone shut, before shaking his head. "Maybe one thing will go right."

Nerva Vs Nicole Carson
(None Title)

Nerva entered the cage and waited for Nicole Carson.

“The Blood, the Sweat, the Tears,” by Machinehead took over the speakers. The fans began to shift to jeers, although there was some whistling. Some men were turned on by Nicole’s sadomasochistic lifestyle. Nicole came out and walked down the cage with the U.K. Title over her shoulder. It wasn’t on the line tonight. She handed it off to a ringside assistant and then climbed into the cage. She came face-to-face with her former leader and shoved her to the ground. The bell sounded.

Nerva kipped up, feeling the rise in cheers at the same time. She came toe-to-toe with Nicole and then slapped her in the face. Nicole came back with a kick, but Nerva caught it with both hands. However, Nicole had a trick up her sleeve - an enseguri kick. Nerva fell to the ground.

Nicole smiled and began stomping away at Nerva. She laughed sadistically. She screamed, “Violence is not the answer!” all the while.

Trying her best to protect her injured kidneys, Nerva rolled away from Carson’s feet and got up with help from the steel rim. She sized Nicole up, trying to find a flaw. She noticed that Nicole was lean and not as muscular as her. Nerva charged in like a speeding bullet and grounded Nicole with the lift and drop. Nerva got on top and began fisting Nicole’s face in, but Nicole used her submission proficiency to reverse the position and tried for an arm lock.

Nerva escaped out of it and got back up.

Nicole began to stand up, but she didn’t see the tornado kick coming straight for her face. Bam. She went down seeing stars. Nerva bounced on the balls of her feet as Nicole got to one knee with confusion in her eyes. Nerva fired a roundhouse kick, catching Nicole in the shoulder, and then came down with a fist between the eyes. Nicole’s back hit the mat and the fans began to cheer for a potential Nerva victory.

But Nicole wouldn’t let it be that way. She got up at five and shook the cobwebs off. She faked a kick at Nerva and then rushed around into a rear waist lock, showing her cat-like quickness in the cage. Nerva struggled for an escape, but Nicole made things harder by lifting her up and dropping her face-first on the mat. Nicole switched into a full nelson and began rubbing Nerva’s face into the mat. Humiliation at its finest.

Nicole turned the hold into a half nelson and used her free hand to punch at Nerva’s head.

However, the opening allowed Nerva to bring her elbow back into Nicole’s stomach. After three more elbows, Nerva was out of the Nicole’s grasp. Nicole threw a kick at Nerva’s midsection, but Nerva countered with a spin kick right across the jaw and then a ridge hand shot to the side of the neck. Nerva stung her with two left jabs and committed forward with a cross, but Nicole dodged the cross punch and countered with an elbow to the ribs.

After winding up, Nicole unleashed a powerful kick to Nerva’s left kidney, putting the former Asylum Champion to her knees. The pain was overwhelming Nerva. She tried crawling away from Nicole, but she had to stop to catch her breath. Nicole took advantage with a hard stomp to the same kidney. Nerva kept crawling on her elbows towards the cage wall, absorbing stomp after stomp to the kidney. By the time she reached the wall, Nerva could hardly breathe. Nicole could now have her way.

She pulled Nerva up by the hair and punched her in the face repeatedly, then working down to the breasts. Nerva covered her sensitive nipples instinctively, but that allowed Nicole to wind her foot up again and plant a kick between Nerva’s legs. As Nerva was on the verge of falling down, Nicole went for a spinning kick but missed. Nerva was back on the offense in a second, snapping a roundhouse kick into Nicole’s gut and then kneeing her in the chest. As Nerva backed up for another kick, Nicole used her long reach to pull Nerva into a bear hug.

Before Nerva could attempt an escape, Nicole picked her up and bear hug slammed her to the mat. She quickly got up and rolled Nerva over into a half crab.

The ref got down and immediately asked Nerva what she wanted to do.

Nerva pounded the mat with her fists but shook no to the submission. She found the strength to pull herself up and then rolled to the side to break the move. As she stood up, she felt the pain come back in the kidneys and grabbed at it. Nicole took advantage with a back fist to the forehead and then a swinging hook across the jaw. She then locked Nerva into another full nelson and slammed her to the mat. What followed was Morality, a triangle choke out.

Nicole screamed furiously as she cranked up the pressure, giving no room for Nerva to breathe. The damage Nicole already did to Nerva’s kidneys only made matters worse.

Nerva’s face began to turn purple as she slapped the mat three times in submission.

Machinehead began playing over the speakers again. Nicole kept the triangle choke on, savoring the extra moments of strangling Nerva. Nerva began coughing as the referee managed to pry Nicole off of Nerva. Nicole finally let go on her own will. She stomped on Nerva for good measure and left with her U.K. Title over her shoulder. Nerva rolled over and got to her knees still coughing. She looked to the ground and absorbed all of the jeers as Nicole trudged up the ramp in victory.

She found a cargo box and took a seat, wrapping the towel over her shoulders and holding the ice pack to her forehead. She took a gulp of water. Her time alone was only temporary.

Lotus found her and walked towards her, shaking her head left and right. She was in disapproval.

Lotus spat on Nerva. “What the fuck was that?”

Nerva wiped the saliva from her face and stood up to Lotus. “That was my hard work out there. Win, lose, or draw, every fight is hard work. And you just spat all over it. You think you’re big enough to do that now, Lotus? You think that Women’s Title is a license to spit people?”

“I almost feel like crying,” said Lotus. “Watching you out there is a sad sight to see. I feel sorry for you, Nerva. I really do. I just have one question: where did it all go?”

Lotus left Nerva again to ponder. Nerva felt like reacting. She felt like slamming Lotus’s face into the floor. In another light, Nerva had to think about what Lotus said. She whipped her bottle into the wall and stormed back to hit the showers.

Backstage workers and police officers surrounded Nicole as they praised her for the win over Nerva. Emotions were running wild in her mind, fireworks were being set off, and she laughed for the first time in a long time. The crowd rose into cheers and lifted up their drinks to a toast.

Nicole grabbed a hold of a drink and raised it to the heavens. “A toast to…putting your sights high, and reaching them!”

The crowd raised their glasses in unison and took a drink.

Except for Nicole, who smashed it against the ground.

Everyone about dropped their drinks also. Nicole’s smile twisted grimly and she shook her head, taking off in the opposite direction. Her feet were going a mile a minute, but one of the people in the crowd managed to catch up with her.

Almost at a run, he found it hard to keep up and talk at the same time. He was a young man that looked the same age as Nicole if not a little older. The last time anybody had seen this person, it would have been days before Nicole put a gun in her throat and almost killed herself.

”You finally got what you wanted, Nicole.” Roger said.

She didn’t answer.

”You finally proved yourself to Nerva. You’re finally worthy, Nicole. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

”What does it take for you to be worthy in your own eyes?” He said while staring at her sharply.

She turned toward him. “You don’t understand how long I’ve waiting for this. I’ve been fighting for this day ever since I came here. The sad fact is, I was hoping I’d be fighting for it much longer. The person I practically obsessed over, I had beaten no problem out there.

Every day I spent wishing for that moment…but when it came…I felt nothing.”

“No, you don’t understand. We had something together. When we were together we actually felt something. I know you did and you know you did too..”

”That’s where you’re wrong.”

”What! I can’t…”

”I defeated an idol of mine today, and I’m disappointed.”

Roger simply stood there. He started to speak but nothing would come out right. With a heavy depression in her eyes, Nicole shook her head.

Nicole held back some tears and looked toward him. “It’s beginning to feel like I was never suppose to feel.”

He watched her disappear into the distance.

During that time, there were hirings and firings... and the number of wrestlers on the roster skyrocketed.

Shows were missed, and the Shows that did arrive featured many wrestlers, Sepiroth Du Luc, Jessica Jenkins, High Flyer, Great Dragon... and the now immortal Rave Caprino... they'd all featured.

How ironic, that one year later... the cycle seemed to be repeating.

Joe narrowed his eyes and looked at a flyer on the wall, before looking to his bottle of now three quater empty vodka.

"Hmm... strong shit." Joe uttered, before looking back to the wall.

Oddly enough, the flyer was still there... and it still said exactly what Joe thought it said the first time around.

MANHUNT: November 30th 2002, WRESTLERS SIGN UP NOW.

Oh, fuck.

Joe swallowed hard.

One minute later, he was standing outside the door of what used to be his office... a swift push later, he was inside... staring Chris Universal in the eye.

"You motherfucking, fucking fucking, fucking son of a bitch." Joe slurred.

"Ah Joe, nice to see you... hope your first day of work is going well... why don't you take a seat?" Universal smiled arrogantly.

"Fuck seat dick head, want to know why you fucking wrestlers bastard." Joe slurred again... rolling his eyes back into his head briefly.

"Ah, you might have to come again there... I only speak English, then again... given the wrestling part, I take it you aren't pleased about the addition of wrestlers to the ManHunt match?"

Universal paused with his mouth agape for a second or two, as Campbell ambled across the room to piss in a plant pot, still urinating... he continued to talk.

"Fuck you wank... tell you something prick, fuck wrestlers! Fuck you! No wrestlers at ManHunt twat!" Joe continued, speaking very vaguely.

"Ah Joe, I'd love to be able to agree with you... but unfortunately what's done is done... besides, in case you hadn't forgotten... I wear the trousers around here now... which means that anything you say might as well be shit.

Not if you don't mind, get out of my office and take that urine covered plant with you." Universal scoffed.

"Listen I fucker... you better watch mouth cunt, fucking dead in two seconds prick... now you tell, who fuck in the match motherfuck? Who fucking wrestler?"

Universal sighed.

"Just get out of my sight Joe... go and do what I'm paying you for tonight, you'll find out all about which wrestlers are involved when the match takes place, until then... you might want to go and find some suitable attire, because you have a match tonight."

Joe's eyes widened.

"Match... the fuck? Who!?"

"Ah... it's just a little warmup really, first thing that came to mind.

DEVOID." Universal smiled, stroking his chin.

Joe walked out of the door and closed it behind him.

He burped.

"Shit I fucked."

Eddie Cheno Vs Hans Krueger

Well, separately, but they all joined forces rather early on. Hans Krueger and Adam Nowell formed a partnership that became a dominant tag team inside the Asylum walls, holding the tag team championship belts for four months.

Eddie Cheno was their comic relief. Eddie Cheno was their pain in the ass. Eddie Cheno was nothing.

Now, Eddie's a viable contender to Asylum titles and seems to have shed the image of nothing more than a punching bag for Mega Job.

I mean, Mega Job for Christ sake's.

And no, Not you Steve. Please, sit down.

"Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck" by Prong played over the arena as the fans voiced their confused aspirations. They may have hated Chris Universal, but with all the things Hans has done, how could they like him?

Then again, how could you like Joe Campbell?

Hans stepped out from the backstage and quickly made his way to the cage, not making any contact with the fans or the officials at cage side. All he did was enter, and await his opponent.

"Smoke two Joints" by Sublime hit the pa system as the fans let out a resounding cheer for their stoner hero. Even with his vicious streak and his affiliation with a few of Joe Campbell's treachered deeds, the majority of the fans still loved him. Eddie walked out from the back with his bong raised high for approval. Taking a quick hit, Hans could be seen disgusted in the ring. That tar equals four good cigarettes he could have downed.

Eddie hit the cage quickly as Hans went to take the offensive early. Hans laid in with a couple of clubbing forearms to the side of Eddie's open wound, which seemed to infuriate Eddie moreso than hurt. Eddie ducked a third elbow shot before headbutting Hans backwards and giving him breathing room from the side of the cage. Eddie immediately charged and went for a shoulder tackle to take the German enforcer down.

Hans was quick to side step, tripping Cheno to the canvas and then dropping on top for a sleeper hold. After a few moments, Hans simply locked Eddie in a forearm choke before slamming his knuckles into the non-holed side of Eddie's face.

Maybe he was hoping to make some symmetry happen tonight.

Eddie, locked in just a forearm choke, backward headbutted Hans off of him. Hans clutched his forehead and got back to his feet, as Cheno did the same, only clutching the back of his head. They each stared at one another slowly circling, each trying to be the predator and force the other to be the prey. Eddie became the first to try the offensive, going for a stiff right jab to Hans' face. Krueger sidestepped quickly before trying to a right hand of his own. Eddie blocked it in move style fashion before swiftly going for the Needle Jab. Hans ducked and dropped behind Eddie, lifting him up and German suplexing him to the canvas.

Eddie landed on the back of his neck as Hans quickly got up to his feet in victory. The referee began the ten count while Hans looked to the outside. Ordering an official, he was quickly handed a chair from ringside.

Eddie got up to his feet at three, still wobbling. Hans acted by tossing him the chair, ordering him to catch it. Eddie followed orders, before Hans attempted the Dresden Powerhouse, or combiningly termed, "Wow, you're an idiot." Eddie was able to duck away before Hans crescent kick could land, and as Hans stood in disbelief, Eddie swung with all his might and popped the seat cushion out of it's place.

The shattered frame of the steel chair hung on Hans' neck like a necklace, before Hans slumped to the Asylum canvas. With the fall, the chair's frame pushed into Hans' neck and caused him to gasp for air. Thrusting the frame off his shoulders, he rolled around the asylum canvas in pain.

Cheno perched himself up against the asylum cage wall, watching as his opponent slowly pulled himself up. At the count of five, Hans stood in front of Eddie with a small crimson mask beginning to build. Hans outstretched his hands and told Eddie to charge, which Eddie followed suit with.

Bad move.

Hans tilt-a-whirl caught Eddie, locking him upside down in a position you don't want to be. Walking over to the side of the cage, Hans ran full force and then dropped onto the steel mesh at a slight angle.

A modified Lethal Extermination.

Hans let out a toothless smile before the referee began his count. With every number, the fans tried to rally the stoner to his feet, but seemed to fail.

At the count of seven, Eddie Cheno was pulling himself up to his feet, and Hans couldn't believe it. Hans immediately charged, as Eddie fell back down to the canvas, not in strategy, but in pure exhaustion. Hans kicked Eddie on his way, effectively restarting the count that had still been going.

Pretty much, Hans hit a fallen man, which reset the count like it would in any last man standing match. Hans let out a disgruntled sigh, calling for another steel chair.

Hopefully this would do the trick.

Hans placed the chair in the middle of the ring. He picked Eddie back up, and quickly went for another tombstone. Eddie rolled through, and was set to nail Hans with his own finishing maneuver on a steel chair, but Eddie couldn't support the weight after losing his balance.

Hans landed on his feet and quickly went for a right hand. Eddie blocked it, and went for a right hook himself. Hans quickly ducked underneath, locking Eddie in a Full Nelson for the counter. Hans eyed the steel chair, and lifted Eddie up for the Full Nelson Slam onto the Chair.

Eddie couldn't counter the move, but what he could do was bring Hans down with him. On his upward ascent, Eddie hooked Hans' head and brought him down onto the steel chair as well.

Eddie took the full nelson, but Hans took a 3/4 quarter turn neckbreaker in the process.

Both men fell onto the Asylum canvas, and the count started on both men. The fans rallied for a decision, something that would be just for both men.

After an eight count, the only man moving was Hans, and he was barely to his knees. By the end of count nine, Hans was standing, although wobbly. When the referee hit ten, the bell was rung, and Hans fell back down to his knees, clutching his head in pain.

That's when it happened. Through the crowd, ArchAngel charged the cage. Angel climbed in quickly and grabbed the steel chair that had figured prominently into the end of the previous match. ArchAngel turned to Hans and laid in a vicious chair shot to the back of his head, sending Hans crumpeling back down to the mat. ArchAngel glared at the Hans sized lump in the steel, and then turned towards Eddie and struck him down with furious vengeance.

ArchAngel stood alone, calling for a microphone. When he got it, all he said were the following words. "From this point on, I'm no longer expendable. In fact, I'll be the one expending."

And that's when everything stopped.

Campbell Vs Devoid

Devoid slowly twisted his neck and turned his head... he'd just been informed that he would be fighting Joe Campbell, while Joe had employed him... a little match practice never hurt anyone.

Devoid silently stared at Joe as he staggered over to him, much to Devoid's displeasure... Joe placed an arm over his shoulder.

"You me Dave... we take on world my son! VICTORY! Yes... you me pal, we kill them all... fuck world, you me Dave we kick arse... now, I say I hear that cunt want me to fight you later tonight, but I know you not want fight fucker, you know what good for you... so why not we make deal? When match starts... I will kick you and you will fall... I will win, crowd will cheer, we go home... all is well?" Joe said, as Devoid grimaced at the poison smell of alcohol on Joe's breath.

"No need speak my man, I know you and me have friend... understand, we sort this shit out tonight then we fuck up twat next week... come on, lets go... time to entertain!"

In the arena... "Smack My Bitch Up" hit the speakers and Joe Campbell left Devoid to burst through the curtain... the crowd grimaced at the sight of him... a pair of tartan boxer shorts... a scruffy appearence in general... and a trail of shitty toilet paper stuck to his boot...

He staggered up into the Asylum, and awaited Dave... his loyal friend.

But his loyal friend had been following him all along, as Joe Campbell spun, Devoid was standing right in his face.

"AHA! There you be Dave... okay, the plan will be THIS!"

Joe stepped back and swung a hard kick straight into Devoid's shin... the crowd generally didn't know what to make of it... so they stood in concerned silence.

Joe leant forward, nudged Devoid... and winked.

"Okay Dave... time you go down now."

Joe's face screwed up... not only because Devoid hadn't hit the canvas... but that he was drawing back.

BLAM.

Devoid uncoiled like a snake that'd just struck it's prey... his elbow connected solid with the side of Joe's face... and compiled with Joe's blood alcohol level... it was devastating.

Joe fell to the canvas and ten seconds later... the match was over.

Devoid simply paced out of the arena as emotionlessly as he had entered it... meanwhile, Joe curled up in a ball, center Asylum.

Time to sleep off the drunken stupor.

He then mumbled to himself, "Oh, how the mighty have fucking fallen."

"Was it not just six months ago when you were running the fWo? What happened to that, Uni?" the man continued, in a mini-mumble-rant. "Bah. Who the fuck cares? You were washed up from the moment Davis retired you. I could go in here and fuck you the fuck up. I could do that."

"It's just too bad that today's your lucky motherfucking day." he finished, before he just simply walked into the room. No knocking, no advance warning, he just simply marched into Chris Universal's office like he owned the damn place.

"What in the hell?!" was Universal's response, "Who in the fuck do you think you a-"
He never got a chance to finish the sentence, because the man had just interrupted.

"Hello, Christopher. Nice place you've got here," the man lied with the sincerity of an Eric Bischoff, "I suppose you're wondering just what the fuck I'm doing here and who the fuck I am, aren't you?"

"You damn right I am, and don't interrupt me when I'm tal-" Universal said, but was again, against his wishes, interrupted again by the man.

"Aha, so, you are interested. I expected that from you, rich boy. You and your boyishly good looks and your expensive fucking cigars," the man said, almost unconciously taking one of said cigars as he said this, "After all, you are Chris motherfucking Universal! The guy who makes the big bucks and big fucking decisions! Including one where you agreed to have...

what are they called... oh yeah...

WRESTLERS...

...involved in the Manhunt match."

"Get to the point, or stop wasting my time." Universal said, his eyes becoming ablaze with anger with this stranger.

"Well, I'm here to tell you that I'm signing up. Think about it, Chrissy. Just think about it. You have all of these stupid shitheads, and then you have me...

Daniel Phillips.

There's no comparison, Christopher. No surprises. No shortcuts. No fucking stocks to get me ahead. There's just me. The King of the Cruiserweights. And that's just enough to win Manhunt.

You can take that to the fucking bank."

With that, Daniel Phillips, as the man was called, smirked at Universal, and left.

Universal was terribly glad that he was gone.

Ricky Wasp Vs LLB

LLB and Wasp had signed the papers to deal with it one-on-one tonight.

“The Shawshank Redemption”.

Ricky Wasp.

The mammoth marched out to his theme song, as the Fans watched on, booing him as he did. Wasp just glared at them, ready to pounce on the Crowd through the lawyer that they loved. He entered the Asylum cage, as he waited for LLB’s theme song to begin.

But something else did.

“Still Waiting”, Sum 41.

The change from “Black and White” used earlier in the night had been made. LLB used this introduction when he battled Max Danger in Action! Wrestling last week, and due to the overdose of adrenalin it gave him and the ‘Jury’ of people to cheer, he decided to come out to it again.

Wearing his brand new Asylum “OBJECTION!” t-shirt, the lawyer paced out from behind the curtains as he marched across both wings of it, jacking up the Crowd with his arms firing into the air.

They replied... with forces never seen before in their life.

Wasp shook his head in the cage. People liked a lawyer. What was the world coming to?

“OB- OB-”

The Crowd: “ERECTION!”

LLB marched down the rest of the ramp in a power walk trance, as he got to the bottom, stopped, and looked around.

“LLB! LLB! LLB!”

He grinned.

He went to the door.

And just as he slipped in, Ricky Wasp greeted LLB with a big boot to the side of the head.

The Fans booed as “Still Waiting” was cut off, but everyone still stood on their feet. They had their hopes held high... believing in the law. For he had come merely seconds away last week from the Extreme Title. And this week, they could feel he was not to be denied.

Wasp hurled LLB into the mesh, but that’s when ‘The Law’ bounced off it and slammed Wasp down with a clothesline to the jaw. LLB pumped his fists in the air, as the Georgia Dome rumbled with cheers. He then waited for Ricky to get up.

The big man did.

“OBJECTION!”

The Crowd: “ERECTION!”

LLB landed a five-star dropkick to the jaw again. Wasp fell.

That’s when LLB shot up on his feet, ala Owen Hart while he screamed. “WHOO!”

The Fans kept the heat going. “LLB! LLB! LLB!”

‘The Law’ waited, bending down to watch Ricky Wasp. He knew the battle was far from over... Wasp was a giant with an attitude, and just like LLB, he did not want to be denied tonight either.

Wasp rose. LLB rushed towards him.

Belly to belly suplex: Wasp.

The Fans hurried the Asylum cage with boos and cries, as Wasp rose and started the fast-paced action by mud hole stomping LLB in the side of the head.

There was no give.

Stomp...

STOMP...

STOMP.

Wasp picked up LLB and hurled him into the cage, as the former A!W Champion bounced off it and into the arms of Ricky Wasp again. Wasp lifted LLB up and into a fireman’s carry, as he rushed himself towards the mesh and jammed LLB’s head into the side of it.

He wasn’t done.

He did it again.

And again.

And again.

Once more, there were no breaks on the six foot nine, two hundred and ninety-two pound titan. LLB’s face began to bleed, as Wasp gave him one last slam and jackhammered him down to the canvas, as a kick to the gut followed soon after.

Wasp shouted out his rage, as he tried to calm down his breathing pattern... but that was going to be hard. Real hard. Fifteen or so stomps, followed by ten or so thrusts into the side of the mesh, and not even the fittest of athletes could recover that quickly.

Then, something happened.

Maybe it was the adrenalin in LLB again.

Maybe it was the adrenalin in the Crowd again.

Or maybe... just maybe, it was a little bit of both.

Because umping up to his feet, ala Owen Hart, LLB glared into the eyes of Ricky Wasp, with blood dripping down his face, and pain running throughout his entire body. Yeah, the whole nine yards.

The nerve of that man, too. For he still had enough power to grin.

“OB- OB-”

The Crowd: “ERECTION!”

LLB called Ricky Wasp on... as Wasp turned his head, seeing the thousands of members of the ‘Jury’ still on their feet, hanging with whatever LLB said and did.

Wasp couldn’t take it much longer. They had to be shut up.

He charged towards LLB.

And missed.

LLB spun Wasp around right then, as he pulled back his left hand, and cued up the killing.

Left... left... left...

Wasp was not to be his bitch though. For he hammered the right hands back at him.

Left... right... left... right... left... right... LEFT... RIGHT... LEFT... RIGHT... LEFT... RIGHT...

LLB stumbled back, even the sheer adrenalin wasn’t going to have him outdo Ricky Wasp in that department.

But ducking under a right hand, and slipping through the arms of Wasp, a back drop was going to at least do something.

Once again, LLB jumped directly onto his feet. He screamed... he shouted... he walked to Wasp’s legs and tried for the ‘Testify’.

To everyone’s amazement... the lawyer, the law... did it.

And there, in front of him, the entire ‘Jury’ stood, throwing fits with each other, as LLB titled back his head and cried out in pain... in sorrow. It was like he, too, could feel what Wasp was going through.

And it hurt.

It fucking hurt.

The Crowd knew just what to chant. “GUILTY! GUILTY! YOU, ARE, GUILTY! GUILTY! GUILTY! YOU, ARE,...”

All went up in awe.

Wasp had kicked LLB into the cage’s netting.

LLB turned around, surprised, impressed, and not to forgotten, worried. No one... or at least not that many were able to power themselves out of that.

But as Ricky Wasp stood, and screamed much like LLB had done to fire up the Crowd, he knew that this was not a normal person.

Wasp licked up the dried blood from his lips.

“Yep. Not a normal person at all...”

The camera’s flashed as LLB looked around the building. That’s when he saw it out of the corner of his eye. The hand of Ricky Wasp.

Calling. Him. On.

The two met in the middle of the cage, as LLB quickly snapped a right knee into the gut of Wasp. He took a step back, only to be caught and drilled into a powerslam. It was Wasp’s turn now. Ricky was going to enjoy this.

Wasp bent down, ready to take LLB apart... however, that’s when the lawyer was able to kick his right boot up and catch Ricky in the eyes.

Wasp stumbled back, as LLB got to one knee, and then to his feet. He looked directly at Wasp... whom looked directly back at him.

They both nodded.

They both ran.

And in a strange turn of events, LLB hit the ‘Erroneous Conclusion’... but there weren’t as many pops as there should have been. That’s because Wasp had hit a football tackle of his own, too.

Simultaneously the two fell, and right after that, the lights went out.

They went out for a good minute, as footsteps could be heard around the cage area.

...

...

They then came back on.

LLB was on one knee... he was the first that everyone looked at, and luckily for him, he seemed okay.

However... Ricky Wasp did not.

Wasp laid on the ground outside of the cage, out cold, with what looked to be some massive blood dripping from his face as he did... and there, as the camera changed to a closer view, was a knife that laid up against the steel netting.

A knife... with the Stranglehold logo on it.

LLB sneered in seeing it, as he picked it up and threw it out of the cage to a pop from the Crowd. He then glanced back at Wasp... whom still had not moved on the outside part of the area.

“Still Waiting” began... and though LLB didn’t do anything to force Ricky out of the cage, he was out... and LLB had won.

The Fans seemed a little shot down. They were way more energetic before... but as LLB climbed up the mesh and raised his hands into the air, only to slam them down like a Judge with a mallet, the ‘Jury’ cheered the lawyer on for his brilliant and fearless effort in fighting Ricky Wasp while he did.

As EMT’s ran down to check on Wasp, LLB exited the cage and took a microphone, only to walk up to the top of the ramp before speaking into it.

“OB- OB-”

“ERECTION!”

“Ricky Wasp... you, are...”

LLB & the Crowd: “GUILTY!”

Throwing the microphone down, LLB walked to the back as he shook his head slightly, while the ‘Jury’ just jammed to “Still Waiting” and the EMT’s worked on Ricky Wasp.

The law was back... and ready for anything.

Joe stared at the redhead standing in front of him. Something about her seemed familiar, but her face was hidden behind a mask. A skull mask. “Whoever you are, you’re late. Halloween was a few weeks ago, Skeletor.”

“It’s me Joe,” said the redhead. “Dawn. Dawn Van Dammage.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? Looking for sympathy? Somebody should be feeling sorry for me, after having to clean up the mess you left in that room the paramedics found you in.”

Dawn continued. “I’m looking for work. I’m ready to come back.”

Had she been living under a rock? “Oh I’m sorry,” Joe said with a smirk. “You must have me mistaken with someone who gives a shit. I’ve got more important things on my mind.”

Enos opened the door. “I found the coffee machine Joe. I got - hey, who’s this? Is she bugging you Mr. Campbell?”

A sick smile spread across Joe’s face. “Yes. Yes she is,” Joe said flatly. “Get her out of here.”
Enos frowned at Dawn. “You gotta go now.”

Dawn ignored him. “Joe, about my place on the roster?”

Enos placed a hand on Dawn’s shoulder. “Git out or yer gonna get hurt.”

Dawn didn’t budge. “Now I’ve been working out, and I’m still in fighting form,” she said to Campbell.

A hand wrapped around Dawn’s throat. Dawn responded by kicking Enos in the balls. Hard.

He fell to his knees, clutching his pulverized testicles and fighting off the urge to throw up. Dawn didn’t pay any attention to him. “My new outfit is marketable, and the mask ensures that the crowd will keep their lunch down.”

“Bitch!” Enos punched Dawn in the kidneys, grabbed her by the hair, and slammed her head into a nearby wall. Hanging pictures fell to the floor. Enos stepped away, dusting the plaster off his shirt. “Sorry about the hole her face made, Mr. Campbell.”

“It’s fine. I like the way she hangs there.”

Dawn pulled her head out of the wall. Blood trickled out from under her mask. She spit a piece of her tooth on the floor. “I can start tonight if you need someone. I came dressed to fight.”

Joe stared at Enos, then nodded towards Dawn. Enos punched Van Dammage in the stomach several times, lifting her off the floor with each blow. He grabbed her by the hair, the seat of the pants, and threw her into the filing cabinet.

Then against the wall.

Against the door.

The filing cabinet again.

Dawn was on her hands and knees, bleeding from several nasty gashes in her arms and chest. An ugly bruise covered part of her face, and was probably much worse behind the mask. Dawn coughed twice and spit some blood on the carpet. “I’ve always felt at home here Joe,” she wheezed. “I’d like to come back.”

“Get out!” Enos bellowed as he kicked her in the stomach. The blow lifted her onto her feet, and a right hook sent her staggering backwards. Enos charged and slammed his shoulder into Dawn’s chest, knocking her flat on her back.. Enos stomped on her stomach, chest, and head before Joe finally called him off.

Sweat covered Enos’ face, and he was breathing hard. His face was flushed. Dawn twitched, and rocked from side to side like a turtle trapped on its back. She finally rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up to one knee. Blood from behind her mask dribbled down the edges, dripping from the front. She looked like a bloodthirsty ghoul. “I miss this place Joe. I really do. I’m ready to come home.”

She’d taken a beating. Joe had been entertained. Besides, he wasn’t paying for her contract anyway. Some rich nutcase businessman was footing the bill. “Fine, fine. Just stop bleeding on my carpet.”

Dawn smiled and spit another tooth out. “Thanks a bunch Joe.”

She jumped into the air, grabbed Enos by the back of the head, and drove her knee into his face with a resounding crunch.. He blinked twice as his eyes rolled back. His nose had all but disappeared into his head, leaving two bloody nostril holes with blood trickling out of it. His teeth punched through his upper lip. Dawn didn’t even turn around when his body hit the floor. “I’ll see you when I see you Joe,” she said over her shoulder as she left his office.

“Toodles!”

Joe looked at the bloody lump of a man lying on the floor in the middle of his office. He reached into his drawer and poured himself another drink. He toasted Enos’ unconscious form. “You’re fired, you useless fuck.”

"I dunno. It was weird. But, I didn't like his whole attitude. 'I don't have any friends' - Right. 'Whatever'...oh, wow...how cool is he? I was just trying to be nice ya' know? Villam seems to be a nice guy...despite...you know...all that other stuff."

Tyler put on one of his gloves and tightened it on his hand. Nurse could only smile..."Other stuff? You mean the raping and killing? I don't know if you know this or not, but you're being thrown into a match with a psycho. And I use that in the loosest form of the word seeing as how this is the Asylum. And well...you aren't exactly sane yourself."

"Tch, yeah." Tyler replied putting on the other glove.

"I'm just saying. You guys are going into a match together and he doesn't seem to care much about this little relationship you seem to think you two have got going. The guy flat out said: 'I don't have any friends' Tyler."

Tyler pulled off his -SNAP~!- T-shirt. "Yeah, I heard him."

Walking up to Tyler Nurse rubbed a hand across his bare chest and moved the same hand up to his chin in a smooth motion.

"So go out there and kick his ass. The Stranglehold want a show. Give 'em a show. Show them what you Asylum guys are made of."

Tyler nodded.

"Yeah. If Villam doesn't care. Then why should I?"

Lacing up his boots Tyler took a good look in the mirror and nodded to himself as the Asylum title reflected light blub light.

Stranglehold Vs Hans Krueger

The slow build lead up to the explosion of a green pyrotechnic and the display of the trademark green dollar logo on the video wall... Chris Universal paced down to the Asylum with a microphone in his hand... and quite surprisingly, wearing his wrestling gear.

As he reached the Asylum... he clambered up and into it, before soaking in some of the abuse that was being hurled at him by the crowd.

A chant quickly broke out.

"You wear hot pants!"

Clap clap clap clap.

"You wear hot pants!"

Clap clap clap clap.

"You wear hot pants!"

Clap clap clap clap.

Universal sighed, and began.

"Ah, it's nice to know that good ring attire is still appreciated amongst the homosexual community, thank you for staring at my crotch Georgia." Universal remarked, the crowd suddenly stopping their chant to boo insanely.

"Now, more pressing issues... earlier on I was assaulted by a member of the staff, his name is Hans Krueger... Hans and I came to a little truce if you will, tonight we will fight... if he can defeat me, then I will hand my share back to Joe Campbell... no strings attached, so Hans... if you will."

Universal stopped, and instantly "Snap Your Fingers Snap Your Neck" hit the speakers... Krueger marched out onto the ramp and down the aisle without fear or trepidation... the crowd were well and truly behind him, and as he clambered into the Asylum... a "Krueger! Krueger!" chant broke out.

Hans leapt the Asylum rim... and drew back his fist.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" Universal roared... wagging his finger "Now it wouldn't be proper for you to hit me before the bell has even rang would it? Just as it wouldn't be proper for you to hit me without the stipulations for the match to be announced."

The crowd were booing insanely by now... but only because of what was transpiring behind Krueger... who presumed that they were booing Universal's words.

"Vat stipulations?" Krueger barked.

"Ah... just a few things I wanted to add... like the fact that this is a handicap match." Universal sneered.

"Against who?" Krueger snarled back.

"Well, I'm sure they'll be happy to introduce themselves if you just... turn... around."

Krueger narrowed his eyes... before turning to face.

Exxa Decimal.

Biggs.

Jeff Garvin.

Ruben Ross.

Hans simply smirked.

Before turning and sending a massive right hand straight into Universal's face... popping his nose in a shower of blood... from there, things only got worse.

Stranglehold attacked like a pack of wolves, taking down Hans with vicious kicks and punches from every which way... Krueger tried to fight back, flailing arms and legs, throwing caution to the wind with every blow he could try to strike... but they were to no avail, the shots from Garvin, Biggs, Decimal and Ross were too accurate, each blow hit it's desination square on.

One or two minutes passed with the arena engulfed with boos, nothing could be done... Hans was now a bloody, motionless mess.

Slowly, the members of Stranglehold pulled him up by the arms... holding him before Universal as though he had been crucified.

Universal stooped down.

"Now... you German scumbag... apologize!"

Hans slowly reared back his head... and spat at Universal.

"NEIN!" Hans screamed.

"WRONG ANSWER!" Universal replied... slapping him sternly across the face... he couldn't fall down however... the Stranglehold still held him aloft...

... until they turned him over to Universal, who promptly dropped him with a neck snapping "Cha-Ching!"

Hans lay motionless on the canvas, but Stranglehold made sure, the crowded around his downed body and fired in several more solid boots, stepping back... they allowed the official to count to a ten that was more than a forgone conclusion... "We're in this together" hit the speakers once again... and Stranglehold left, their reign over Team Campbell appearing more strong than ever.

Divide and conquer was certainly in the Stranglehold arsenal.

"Cheer up, Emo kid." Someone gave my shoulder a female touch.

I turned to look up into her face. She had dark brown skin that was only a few shades away from my own complexion. Her face was very pretty - something I guess I only noticed now in my sober state. Her smile lit up her eyes in such a way that the rest of her seemed to sparkle in response. Some where in the distant past where I had cock meat between my legs and didn't have the weight of death on my conscience this would've made this heart jump.

Now however, it was annoying as fuck.

"What do you want?"

"Aw, nothin' just wanted to bring you some of this..." She slammed a bottle of Night-train on table in front of me. She then laughed at her own joke. "Word backstage is that alcohol makes you stronger."

I ignored the comment.

"Are you doing this for a joke or because you feel sorry for me?"

She took a step back. Obviously she had forgotten that little incident. I didn't. As ironic as it is, after amnesia you hardly forget anything. She recovered and returned to the smile.

"I did it because I feel sorry for you."

The sentence tore into my heart like hot knifes.

She left me alone.

I wasn't expecting that.

Maxwell Vs Los Toros
(Fear The Nudity)

The crowd in the arena, were scratching their head.

Avo Chavez, was scratching his head.

Enrique Credibleno was scratching his na na na nevermind.

If ever there was a sign that a wrestler was in charge, it was exactly what the fuck was going down... Ian Maxwell was an Asylum fighter... ready to bleed, sweat and cry a river for his paycheck... he was ready for a brawl, a war... you name it, he'd do it, anything.

Well... almost anything.

Fighting with naked men was where he drew the line.

"See dude!" Enrique chirped "This is totally sweet... I told you getting naked bumps up the ratings... look, everyone is looking at us."

"I-I-I... I know... I'm starting to enjoy this."

Enrique and Avo smiled, before looking to Maxwell... who did the polar opposite.

A nice scowl.

"How about you man, how's it going over there?" Enrique enquired.

Maxwell simply kept his scowl.

"So anyway..." Avo cut in "I think we are supposed to fight now... this is gonna be sweet, Enrique and I were working on our gimmicks... we even have entertaining naked moves... like my naked Bronco Buster."

Maxwell gulped.

"YEAH! And my totally sweet inverted stinkface!" Enrique cried.

Maxwell gulped again.

"Yep... lest we forget, the double bouncing bearhug!"

That. Was. It.

BLAM.

BLAM.

Maxwell cracked Avo and Enrique about the head with two totally solid punches, knocking them both flat out on the canvas... and being sure not to touch either of them too much in the profess.

The official laughed.

"So I suppose a submission attempt is out of the question."

Maxwell scowled at him.

"Knockout it is." The official chuckled... signalling for the bell as "They Know Who You Are" by PM5K hit the speakers.

Avo and Enrique started to stir.

"Fuck this shit." Maxwell uttered, diving out of the Asylum and rushing backstage.

“Look, you fuckwit, I’m the one doing you a favour. By saying your fucking slogan, I’m getting millions of people to buy your worthless product”

“That may be true Mr. Campbell, but without permission, this is still an illegal activity. The only way you could possibly have this rectified is if a member of your roster was fully endorsed by Nike, and therefore, any usage of said slogan would be reflected onto him, and thus onto us.”

“Wha?”

“Get a member of your roster to sign a form, making them sponsored by Nike, and you’ll be in the clear.”

“There ain’t noone here who’d sell out to a company like that, especially if I asked them to do it!”

“Well, Mr. Campbell I fear that…”

“Shut up.”

Campbell had seen the figure of Ty Hughes standing outside the door; now busy exchanging words with LLB over some matter.

“I’ve got a fucking idea. Here, take this box, and hold on… just fold the contract over… right. Here. Go make that fucker outside sign it.”

“What… how?”

“Walk up to him and tell him that this is from Nike. It aint a lie, and the dumb fuck will think you’re giving him free shoes.”

Sure enough the man walked out the room and within seconds ty had just signed himself to Nike.

Campbell burst into laughter from in his office as he saw Hughes reading the contract after finding the box actually had Campbell’s old shoes in… and they stunk. As Ty looked at LLB who just nodded that everything in the contract was legit, Campbell shouted out the door “Now who’s the screw up!!!” leaving an irate Hughes stuck with a whole load of on air advertising time to do for Nike.

Inmate Vs Villam Ender
(None Title)

A victory.

If Villam beat the Asylum champion here tonight. Then that would more than likely mean a path for him in the future that lead towards the championship. And if Inmate took Villam apart in this match then he would be solidifying the fact that he is top dog in this kennel. The most dangerous 'Inmate' in the Asylum.

"Orange Rolls, Angel Spit" by Sonic Youth.

The challenger, Villam Ender. He cut through the curtains not with a drunken swagger but with solid footed purpose. Climbing up the step he got into a cage and waited for.

"I Disappear" by Metallica.

The champion. the Inmate. The crowd reaction was overwhelming a bit too much for Villam as he paced the ring waiting for Inmate to get in. Accompanied by Nurse who held the Asylum title in her hands, Inmate got into the cage and stood face to face with Villam.

Ding!

The bell rang and both men, allies in protecting the Asylum were nose and nose. The tension was thick, both men glaring at the other and daring one of them to make the first move.

CRACK!

Villam did just that. A kick square in the groin set the arena afire with boos and Villam fanned those flames with some boots to Inmate's head. Kicking him all the way against the wire mesh and continuously stomping on him. Lifting him up, Villam placed a hand right under Inmate's chin and - WHAM! - a punch right in the jaw nearly sent Inmate out of the cage.

Grabbing Inmate's chin again...he rears a fist back and fires it - only for Inmate to dodge the punch completely and return with some forearms and eyes gouges of his own.

Elbow after punch and forearm after elbow connected with Villam's face as Inmate fought his way out from the edge of the Asylum. He closed out his combination with huge knee to Villam's gut and followed that up with a DDT. Not stopping there he followed his DDT up with a college wrestling-style headlock. Villam tried to struggle out but Inmate added his on twist to the move.

Punches.

Inmate was trying to get Villam to submit via punches. But, it wasn't happening. Blow after crushing blow came and Tyler still hadn't seen Villam's hand even go up in an attempt to tap out. Frustrated Tyler pulled Villam to his feet and grabbing the back of the eunuch's head he leaped into air and slammed Villam's head down onto his knee.

Repeatedly.

Villam's face was bloody as all hell and the crimson began to pour out onto the orange of Inmate's pants creating a sickening brown-ish color. Inmate was relentless. Grabbing Villam's neck he charged and forced him to the rim of the Asylum, throttling Villam and trying to push him out of the ring. Villam only option was to try and get a hand free and when he did that hand raked straight down Tyler's face leaving four glowing red lines. Inmate staggered back grabbing his face and Villam started in on his assault.

Kicks came from every direction and this near patented same foot sidekick-roundhouse combination was the opener. A right footed front kick to the midsection left Inmate open for the scissor kick to the chin. Outside Crescent kick. Finished with a hard and pointed elbow jab into Inmate's solar plexus. Inmate was reduced to holding himself up on all fours. Not missing a beat Villam charged the rim of the cage, leapt up onto it, twisted himself towards Inmate and somersaulted off of the rim resulting a hard axe kick right across the back of Tyler's neck.

Villam got bounded back to his feet Chinese kick-stand style and waited for the count.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

Inmate slowly started to get up, but wasn't even given the chance to catch his breath as Villam slammed into him with a short arm haymaker that had all of the effect of a baseball bat swing to the temple. Inmate was, yet again, down for the count.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

Inmate shook his head and pushed himself up off the canvas. He wiped a bit of blood from his lip and got up on one knee...

SMMMMACK!!

Villam has once again leapt off of the rim, but only this time he connected square across Inmate's jaw with Bruce Lee Dragon Kick.

Inmate was down again.

The fans could believe this shit. Villam was fighting like a bitch, his poor form just reminded the fans of a time when protecting the Asylum wasn't his concern. And seeing him staring down at Inmate with a cold stare only made them more and more angry. But, no one would throw something into the ring. This match had apparently turned into a far more personal matter than they expected.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

Inmate was up! This time Villam grabbed the back of Inmate's head. With a sneer he started a round of shit talking.

"Get up you fag. You pathetic piece of shit. If you can't beat a cockless piece of shit like me then you ain't got no business messing with Stranglehold."

SLAM!

Villam introduced Tyler's head to the canvas.

"You hear me talkin'?"

SLAM!

SLAM!

"Ya' hear me, boy? You sobbing child. Ha! Friends. People like you make me sick. Protectin' shit, running to the rescue like a Knight in armor. Then you get all ass hurt when the rest of us don't live up to the expectations. You think these people are gonna give a shit in the end?"

SLAM!

SLAM!

SLAM!

"You hear me? Don't you think that for one second they aren't going to turn bitch on you the moment you do something they don't like. So, who're you fightin' for Tyler? Huh?"

SLAM!

"Who?"

SLAM!

"Who!?"

SLA-...No.

Inmate's arms set up like pillars kept his face from slamming to the canvas. The fans started an uproar. Nurse cheered Tyler on.

POW!

Elbow right in the chin. Villam was sent staggering back. Inmate charged him and speared his left knee. Inmate followed up with some straight out kicks to said knee. Villam tried to retaliate with a punch but it was blocked and Inmate caught him with a leg sweep in the back of the left knee. Inmate continued to kick at Villam's knee...done with that he yelled something at Nurse.

Nurse tossed in a chair.

Inmate went to work.

Steelchair connected around eleven times with Villam's knee before he realized that it was useless to resist. And the chair rang another 10 times before Inmate threw the chair out of the cage and signaled.

SNAP~!

Locked and Sealed. Villam had no one where to go and nothing to do but.

*tap, tap, tap*

The bell rang and Nurse ran into the cage handing the Asylum title to Inmate in which he raised it in the air in triumph.

'I disappear' by Metallica started up again.

And the Inmate had triumphed... but perhaps in doing so, he'd given the biggest triumph of the night.

To Stranglehold.