The Show, total and utter chaos... enjoy.

Two glass eyes
I'll fuckin tell you lies
I'm on the side of the road
You gonna fuckin' die!!

Yeah, yeah
Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot

POW!

Fuck this road
Well, fuck you too
I'll fuckin kill your best friend
What you fuckin gonna do? (Here I come!)

Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot

POW!

Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot

POOOOWWWWWW!!!

"Six Shooter" by Queens of the Stone Age...

...and with it, the Ender man cometh. A trail of hatred and jeering blazing behind him as he stalks down to the cage with fire in his feet and rage in his eyes.

Villam hops up onto the apron and jumps over into the cage. Walking to the other side of the Asylum he hops up onto the wire mesh and raises his Asylum Championship in the air.

Tidal wave of animosity.

Villam stands from on high with a snide smirk and is quickly handed a microphone from an official.

Villam puts the microphone to his mouth...

BOOOOOOOOOOooooooo!!

"Fuck you." Villam said raising his voice above the jeering. Then pointing a stern finger down onto the booing crowd Villam proclaimed. "Fuck all of you."

Villam hopped down from the rim of the cage and paced the ring.

"Apparently people thought that when I said: 'anyone who stands in my way is going to be beaten bloody' thought that what I meant was: 'Yeah, bring the German guy out here...we'll make out.'

It's great.

Everyone was staking their hopes in the kid.

Joe.

You.

Even the kid thought: 'Hey, I've had sex. I can beat Villam Ender. Hey, I listen to shitty ballot rock. I can beat Villam Ender. I have piercings. I can beat Villam Ender.'

4 minutes later the kid was shitting his pants and praying for the frozen head of Hitler to pull his faggity ass out the fire that was me kicking his ass. You could hear his howls over the ambulance’s sirens. He called me a Jew bastard. Threatened to bring back the third Reich. I laughed. It was really great.

And you people? You people were all broken up and shit. You were 'feeling' for him. You felt 'sympathy'.

Fucking queers.

Feeling and sympathy are for fags...

...and old people...

...and like, Disney cartoons.

So if you're out here booing me because I sent some naive novice of a German fuck back to 21W with an arm that's about as useless as Joe Campbell's cock...then you all can take that shit back home. If you're gonna hate me, you're gonna hate me with your A-game.

When I come out here. I want to hear "You raping, murdering, faggot son of a bitch" not..."Boooo...you put German people in hospital. Now they will hate Americans and won't send us anymore of that pretentious 'THUMP-THUMP' Techno music."

Shut yer traps you dance-dance revolution raver jerks.

That kid isn't even a fucking footnote and he should be treated as such.

I mean, I don't give a shit about you people...sure I may act like I care. But it's all in how I treat you. I threat you all like shit because each and every one of you are pieces of shit and your opinion is worth - guess what? - shit. I leave this cage feeling exactly the same as I came into it and you people leave the arena with the false sense of accomplishment.

'Phew - We hated up on Villam guud...YER-HAWR'!

It is to laugh."

Arena still jeered him...Villam paced the ring and dropped his title on the Canvas...

"Anyway. Tonight..."

Villam paused.

It was as if he already knew.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Smack my bitch up" by Prodigy

"I guess this is the part where you come out with some limey retort." Villam yelled to Team Campbell as the music boomed over the PA. Joe came out flanked by all members of the Zone.

The Freak, Tapestry, TMM and Slapnutz, Keegan and John C. Willis.

Then cutting through the curtains were Devoid, Dez Aragon and the Inmate.

Joe was handed a microphone and spoke up, "Oh, not all - you can continue if you want...we're just...

setting up."

And with that two interns rolled a contraption onto the stage.

"What the fuck is this shit?" Villam said.

Joe smiled.

"Villam...let me present to you a new addition to the Asylum. Something to solve the problem of people in your...special situation." And with that he pulled the cloth off...

Whiz-Bang-Whirr went the little machine. Three wheels with words written on cards in marker. The bloody Asylum skull in the center.

And on top...it said in gray-red lettering...

~THE WHEEL OF FUCK~

"I present to you -The Wheel of Fuck- where destinies are destroyed and dreams are crushed.

Let's take a look at the first wheel shall we?

Here we have the match options.

1. Lumberjack

Ah, it's a bit from wrestling but it get's the job done, doesn't it? A bunch of blokes out of the ring waiting for some poor sod to tumble out of the ring so that they can give them the old punch and kick.

2. Extreme

My personal favorite, mind. Nothing like disregarding the rules of a place that has none right, Villam?

3. Deathmatch

I'm sure this is your favorite. A goodie but an oldie and quite tiresome and expensive so if the lands on this tonight you can just pretend like it didn't fucking happen.

4. Handicapped

2 on 1. 3 on 1. How ever many I feel like really.

5. Barbwire Cage

Like our lovely cage you're soiling now, but wrapped in barbwire.

How about this second wheel?

The Exclusive Weapon of choice.

1. Steelchair

2. Sledgehammer

3. Shiteball stick

4. Knife

5. Lead Pipe

And to hurry this along...the third wheel.

Now, you see this is where it's gets interesting because as you can see the spaces on his wheel are blank. Which leaves me able to write in whomever I fucking please.

So...Villam...do you want to play?"

"Fuck, no." Villam said with a frown.

"Ok, GOOD! Let's get started then!"

...and with that Joe sent the Exclusive Weapon O'Choice wheel spinning around and around.

clickclickclickclickclick...

click

click

click.

SLEDGEHAMMER.

The crowd erupted into cheers as Joe Campbell clapped his hands. "There you have it folks! The weapon of choice for this match will be...the 'almighty'...heh...Sledgehammer."

Villam just shook his head.

"Shake your fucking head all you want. Now, for the match wheel...."

Joe make wheel spin, now.

spin, wheel, spin.

clickclickclickclickclick...

click

click

click.

DEATHMATCH.

Eerie silence.

"Um, Murray?"

A human voice responds over the PA.

"Yea, Boss?"

"We won't be using 'Deathmatch' - do me a favor and spin it to Lumberjack match."

The crowd once again erupted into cheers as Villam grunted with displeasure.

"Oh, so this is your game? This is fucking whack. Just make the fucking match already, please."

"Alright, Villam.

You always had a way of spoiling fun...so here you have it. Tonight, you face The Freak in a Lumberjack Sledgehammer match!"

Cheers.

Villam just laughed.

"That's....it?

You're puttin' me in a Lumberjack Match...with The Freak!? Hahaha...that's funny. First of all, Motherfucker...giving me a Sledgehammer? Big fucking mistake. And you're giving me the Freak? Look out everybody - It's dun dun dun...The Freak!

I'll stab that kid in the face bill his next of kin for cleaning the blood off of my boots. But, fine Campy. You want to send another lamb to the slaughter then by all means..."

Joe broke in, "Uh, Villam maybe you didn't understand.

You won't be using a sledgehammer.

And neither will The Freak.

The Sledgehammers go to my wonderful lumberjacks...meaning if you fall out of the Asylum....(and you will)....you're fucked. Hence the whole Wheel of Fuck thing. You get it now you stupid yank? Now if I were you I'd start praying to the yank god...because tonight...

...is the end of your career."

"Smack my bitch up" by Prodigy. Joe leaves.

Villam once again stands alone.

"Is that all you've got to say? Glug-Glug? Joe Campbell is going to kill you tonight. If you think those 'lumberjacks' are just going to stay at ringside while-"

I slammed the bottle of beer down on the table.

"Dee. I need you to get some...stuff...for me. Can you?"

She got up and cocked her head to the side..."Maybe. If it doesn't cost me my job."

She paused for a second. "Wait-Are you asking me as a friend?"

I stood up and smiled. "No.

Because if you don't I'll break your fucking neck."

By the look on her face I thought her heart must've stopped.

Then she started laughing.

"Haha...Alright, Alright...what do you need?" She said putting a hand on my shoulder.

My tough guy act never seems to work on her.

How times have changed.

Rather than get his arse into the arena on time, which he would have done even six months ago, The Prince of Palermo is on his fifth brew in a nearby drinking establishment. And he’s been in there little over fifteen minutes.

He turns to Warwick, who is seated on a bar stool to his right hand side, and stutters: “You kna… I… I might not even go in.”

Ordinarily, Hunt would have been surprised, but Carrahar’s recent downward spiral meant his moods ranged from a David Beckham free kick to a long-range effort from Daniel Cordone. Talk about extreme. Still he had to try and talk sense into the nonsensical even if there was little point…

“Keegan, you’ve got to go in. Come on. We’ll have one more and then set off to the arena. It’s only a five minute walk or so.”

Special K smashed his glass down onto the bar, which made Warwick jump. He feared a slap in the mouth for his suggestion but was mighty relieved, if only for a second, when a calm Carrahar clearly said: “Can I have another drink please? Same again for me and the other gentleman.”

And then he turned to address his acquaintance: “I have to go into work? Eh? I’m a fucking multi-millionaire and have I got a measly match? Eh? Have I fuck. There are two reasons why I do not need to go into work.”

“But what if Campbell needs you?” Keegan chuckled: “Right. Yes. That Manc twat fucking needs me like Rave needed Villam’s cock up his carcass. And look what happened to that poor fuck. Look Warwick. I’m not needed now, nor will I ever be so either order another drink while I go to the bog or just fuck off will you?”

I know what I’d rather do but I’d better get the drinks in…

LLB© Vs Pestilence
(T.V. Title)

Pestilence would be the first one to testify against LLB and his brand new TV Championship Title Belt. “Revelations” by Enya cued up over the PA as Pestilence walked out. The Fans didn’t cheer... yet nor did they boo. They just watched as Pestilence marched himself down the ramp and entered the Asylum’s cage. He stretched out, placing his right arm behind his back as he grabbed it with his other, and pulled... only to change hands and do the same thing to the other side. Pestilence had to make sure that the ring-rust was out of him... for he had a chance to not only become a Champion, gain notice... but beat one of the better that tA had to offer.

As “Still Waiting” by Sum 41 started, the entire “Courtroom” stood and cheered. Out walked LLB, with his TV Championship around his shoulder as he did. He raised his right hand, slamming it down to the ground as the ‘Jury’ replied with cheers and chants of his name.

“LLB! LLB! LLB!”

He fearlessly walked down the ramp, staring a hole through his opponent in Pestilence who now waited in the center of the cage for him to enter. Nodding and throwing down his Title just like that, LLB jumped into the cage and began to go after Pestilence with his left fist in the air.

Pestilence shot LLB in the head first, as the bell went, and the Fans booed. ‘The Law’ was jolted into the mesh, as Pestilence nailed him with two more shots, only to have the third one blocked.

Now it was LLB’s turn.

Left.

Left!

Left!

And the Champion hurled Pestilence into the side of the cage. The Challenger came off of it quickly, though, as he looked for a clothesline that LLB was able to duck. Once Pestilence turned around, ‘The Law’ nailed him with another left hand... and tossed him into the side of the cage.

Back breaker.

LLB waited for Pestilence to rise.

Then he took charge.

But Pestilence wasn’t to be denied on this day, either, as he quickly sidestepped LLB’s attempted shoulder block and hit the lawyer on the return with a diving DDT. Both men rose, but Pestilence was able to get the better of the TV Champion again with the ‘Shining Crescent’. The roundhouse kick slammed LLB’s head off of the canvas flooring a number of times, as Pestilence walked himself to LLB’s foot... took it... and locked in a one-legged Boston crab.

However, with his free foot, the lawyer kicked Pestilence into the mesh. The Challenger met the cage hard, directly with the top of his forehead as he did. He shouted out, before turning around and receiving a kick to the gut... followed by one of LLB’s own diving DDT’s.

That’s when the ‘Jury’ got loud.

Really loud.

LLB leapt directly to his feet, screaming at Pestilence to get up and “Testify”.

And he did as he was told to.

Tossing the Challenger into the mesh, LLB lowered his body and hip tossed Pestilence into the opposite side of the cage. Once more, however, Pestilence got up and groggingly walked himself into LLB’s waiting arms. ‘The Law’ took it from there, hitting a hurracanrana... a move which he would hardly perform. The TV Champion just jumped to his feet again, and, on call... a battered Pestilence rose.

Spinning heel kick.

This time LLB was going to let the Referee count.

But no sooner than an eight count did Pestilence stand, blocking a left hand from LLB and raking him in the eyes. The Challenger then whipped LLB into the cage, as ‘The Law’ even looked like he was going to fall out. Pestilence paced over, taking the bottom leg and trying to throw it over the cage... but LLB gave Pestilence a taste of his own medicine with a rake to the eyes...

As Pestilence stumbled around... LLB took charge, nailing a clothesline that put him on his back.

LLB screamed.

The ‘Jury’ cheered.

It was time for the verdict.

Pestilence got up and ran at the newly crowned Champion...

‘Black and White’.

“OBJECTION!” LLB yelled into the stands, and on cue got his reply... “ERECTION!”, courteously of Christopher Fox from Action Wrestling... a reply that would always trail itself after the original statement. Regardless, it got the entire Courtroom pumping... and LLB too, who picked up Pestilence’s legs and twisted him into...

The ‘Testify’.

“LLB! LLB! LLB!”

He pulled back, with rage in his eyes as Pestilence tried to fight out of the submission move... but it was not meant to be. He had given it his all... he was able to pummel the Champ for the short time he had... but it was time to tap out, and see if he could get him back another time.... another day...

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Another testify.

“LLB! LLB! LLB!”

‘The Law’ threw a fit in hearing the bell. His theme song begin, as he picked up Pestilence, speared him, and tossed him out of the cage. The Fans kept cheering along the way, as the Referee handed the Champion Title Belt back, which even got the Courtroom going stronger.

Exiting the cage, LLB grabbed a microphone, and spoke overtop of his theme.

“For Pestilence... is...”

LLB & the Jury: “GUILTY!”

Marching up the ramp, the tone was already set in this Sunday Show.

It was going to be wild.

And as for seeing LLB... he wasn’t done yet.

“Who the fuck is it?”

“Hello sir. John C. Willis right?”

“That’s me. Which cunt wants to know?”

The messenger (unfortunately not Melinda) hesitates before responding: “Joe Campbell wants to see you in his office in the next ten minutes.”

“Well he can fuck right off.”

“It’s important sir.”

On that note, the behemoth looked at Michael D’Alessandro, who shrugged his shoulders, before he opened his door to give the official the fright of his life: “Okay. Where is he?”

“In… In his office. I can take you if you like.”

The Kokomo Colossus laughed: “You obviously heard about what happened last week. Give me a minute.”

He closed his door as an uncertain D’Alessandro gazed at him expecting an explanation: “Right. Let’s go. The Boss wants to see us.”

That isn’t a good sign. I was either going to get my ass kicked, killed, or totally embarrassed because of beating Ricky Wasp. Maybe all three of those events would occur. All I know is that as I walked down the corridors my stomach was in my throat.

I walked in to his makeshift office, seeing Joe sitting in his plush chair eyeing a bottle of unopened liquor. Hard to believe a liquor product within five miles went untouched by the Brit.

That of course was kept to myself.

I walked in, a slight twinge in my knee. I was nervous. My arms felt heavy and my palms began to get sweaty. I just looked up as best as I could, just waiting for his face to twist into a frown, followed by an order to break both kneecaps. However, right about the time when the anticipation was finished consuming me, he did something that surprised the hell out of me.

He extended his hand.

I had to shake it. What other option did I really have? I wasn’t some big shot with muscles and a guaranteed contract. And I was sure he had protection hidden somewhere.

“Great job in kicking the shit out of that limy redneck bastard. I was damn impressed. Good show.”

He released his grip of my hand, and I slowly let it to my side. I let a smile break onto my face, out of politeness.

“You know, you seem like the least fucked up person we got around here. Most people would’ve tried to cut my hand off in that situation. With cock suckers like Villam around, you got to watch you’re back, aye?”

I nodded my head in agreement.

“I seems like Lotus is trying to worm her way to something more then just the women’s division. I have a mission for you, Star. Lotus isn’t a damn thing. Nor should she be anything outside what I dictate for her. Take her title. Take her out of the picture. If you need to, just kill her in some back alley. Just get rid of her so I don’t have to deal with her being a pain in the ass.”

I could merely smirk. A shot at the women’s title, and a chance to end Lotus? I just couldn’t pass this up. I would actually get somewhere in this landscape if I did this successfully.

“Last time I checked, she was in her room. Go in there and pound fuck out of her.”

A smile. A flash of yellow teeth. The expression seemed forced, as if it wasn’t possible naturally. If I failed, that smile would reappear over my body after a public whipping.

I exited, one goal in mind. Beat Lotus within an inch of her life. If I fail, I'll surely suffer the wrath of a bunch of people I didn't care to get involved with. I guess that's the risk you take sometimes.

the Asylum.

Ten meters in diameter. Four foot high mesh cages surrounded the combat zone.

There was but one rule...

No Rules.

Max Danger and Bradley Duncan weren't exactly prepared for what was going to take place later on in the evening when they made their debut bout against Slapnutz and TMM, collectively known as Splink. But, as NVC entered with Jessica, they, or at least 'The Danger Man' didn't seem too concerned with it.

"Ladies, ladies, ladies! Max Danger and Bradley Duncan are in the hizzouse!" shouted Max. His wife, Jessica, just shook her head and pointed out to him, "I'm the only lady here, and even if I weren't, why would you announce your arrival to them?"

Danger opened his mouth about ready to say something, but quickly realized that his best option was to snap it back shut and not to try and defend his point. Jessica crossed her arms in front of her, and began to tap her foot on the tile floor, giving Max that look. Every guy knows the look. Max just gave her his charming smile and patted her on the head and said, "Now, now Jess, no need for jealousy. Just figured I'd try and help Bradley out with finding himself some ringrat tail!"

He slapped his tag team partner on the back and smiled. Jessica just shook her head, a smile creeping across her face. She had grown quite accustomed to her husband being slightly less normal than anyone else. She allowed him to put his arm around her, and all three began to walk down the hallways. Max was the one who spoke up,

"Do you realize, that tonight, we begin our journey. A journey that will see us turn this place upside down and make everyone look at tag teams in a different light. We did it in PIW. We made the division more popular than the singles. Us," he pointed to himself and Duncan. "Oh tonight is going to be a great night!"

They continued walking, passing several of the crew members, who were just wondering around. Danger shouted out to everyone who would listen that NVC had arrived and that they were the greatest team in the history of teams. Other people with clipboards and headsets running about in a hurry, trying to keep things in order. But Max just smiled as he stopped.

He turned to Jessica and to Bradley, "We have arrived! The lords and saviours of the Ayslum!"

'The Danger Man' then walked into the lockerroom, leaving Jessica and Duncan standing outside. Bradley then signed with his hands, "He's going to get us killed before the night is over with." Jessica nodded her head in agreement. Then, together, they joined Max inside the lockerroom.

Now all that was left was to wait.

“What happened? Right. That’s a good question that one. Quite frankly, I can’t be arsed to answer it right now and you seem to forget. I’ve blown more than four hundred thousand poxy pounds or dollars on a fucking good night out. Joe Campbell can suck my dick.”

“Actually, Keegan, he won’t. Unless you pull your finger out. You see you’ve got money and he’s got money. But that doesn’t matter. You’re working for him. He might let anything go but he expects effort, you’re one of his signings someone he looked to in order to get rid of The Stranglehold, and by doing this you’re letting him down. It’s just like working for Dino, working for…”

“Now wait a fucking minute! How did you work that one out? Are you pissed already? This is not like working for Dino, how can it be? They’re completely different.”

Warwick sighed: “Dino was your Boss and Joe is now. You’ve waited so long to get into the mainstream world, crack America and be a star over here. Don’t waste it now.”

Once again, Keegan quickly downs a pint and virtually breaks it as he smashes it down onto the bar: “Howay then.”

Hunt looks up at him as Carrahar surprises him: “Well The Show isn’t that old. We might as well make an appearance.”

The Lawyer beams and mutters as he leaves the pub: “Thank you.”

Cue the porno music!

Yes, once again, we were honored by the presence of Pefect, Dead, Wilson, and Hiroshima(Ken War). Collectively known as FtfWo. Dead was once again carrying a potted plant that will either be smashed into pieces or forgotten about entirely. Perfect carried a microphone and what was apparently a half-full bag of potato chips. Wilson carried nothing. Hiroshima carried his right arm in his left.

The foursome entered the ring, performed the Snoopy Dance, used Hiroshima's right arm to smash the potted plant, and then Dead snatched the microphone from Perfect and started to speak.

"Hello, Switzerland!"

WTFMF?!

"Now, we have something to say, tonight, but unfortunately, Perfect and I couldn't decide on who would actually say it," Dead said, "I didn't want to say it, because just thinking about it would make me soil myself. Perfect didn't want to say it, because he's 'bloody sick of carrying this team on his sodding back'. Though I don't know why he said that, since not even Max Danger could carry this team. We couldn't let Wilson say it, seeing as though he only speaks one word at a time. And we would have let Hiroshima say it, but nobody understands just what in the hell he's saying." Dead started. The Hiroshima comment caused Hiroshima to raise his free arm.

"hardkorr!!1111"

Well, you knew he'd say it in this promo before you even started reading it.

"Yes, so, anyway, since we could not decide who would actually say what would be said, Perfect and I have mutually agreed to the most manly of competitions to decide." Dead said.

He paused, sucked it up, and bellowed his next word with a mighty roar.

Well, okay, he actually sounded like a little girl. Let's give the poor guy SOME credit, okay?

"ROSHAMBO!"

Oh, God.

"See, I'm pretty sure we all know the rules. After all, I think everybody watches South Park. Well, except for that Renner guy, but he doesn't watch the Simpsons, either, so who cares about him?"

The crowd had no idea what Dead was talking about, and Wilson kicked Dead in the side of the leg and pointed a finger at him.

"KAYFABE."

"Oh, right. Sorry for the breakage of the kayfabe there. Anyhoo, it's fairly simple. Perfect and I will take turns kicking each other in the nuts until one of us falls over. Whoever falls over has to say what has to be said. Mmmkay?"

And thus did Perfect and Dead stand in front of one another, prepared for their ball-kicking brawl.

Perfect Vs Dead
(Roshambo Challenge)

Perfect struck first, booting Dead between the goal posts and scoring a field goal. Dead's reaction was, of course, screaming like a little girl while holding himself.

"OHHHHHHHHHH!!!! MY BIG DEAD MACHINE HAS BEEN BELTED! OH, WOE IS ME! WOE IS ME!"

But he didn't go down.

Dead used a moment or two to recover from the kick, then he unleashed a vile shot that could be akin to sending a rocket up to greet the moon. Perfect's body was actually lifted a foot off of the ground thanks to the force of the kick, but he luckilly landed on his feet.

However, this didn't stop Perfect from bouncing around like an idiot, holding his crotch, and screaming out in a voice that was far more girly than his usual voice.

"BLOOOODDYYY HELLLL!!!!"

This went on for a little while. Then Wilson got bored.

"HURRY."

"What's... the... rush...?" Dead asked, still holding himself.

"TIME." Wilson said, holding a watch up.

"Ahh, we... we could... yeah... we could... go all bloody... night... if we... wanted... to..." Perfect said. This, of course, annoyed Wilson.

"DEATH."

Charge.

Double Clothesline from Shanghai.

Both Perfect and Dead fell over at the exact same time.

Um... we'll just call it a win for Wilson, yes?

This can NEVER lead to good things.

"hay, u no wat lgedion o'diary??/ u r pooseys!!1 u beet prefect & ded & dey ded nto hvae tym 2 tye ther shooleyces!!11 det es nto hardkorr!!11 & thsuely, u shood gev de fteeefduboh ther wlel-dservaeded reemtach!!11" Hiroshima said.

"& atuaclaly, ey'd liek ay tit-el mtach!!111" Hiroshima demanded. Which begged the question: Did a guy who made a living by dying a lot deserve a shot at any championship?

This question was, of course, answered five seconds later when a single song played to the collective groans of the crowd.

"Dancing Queen" by Abba.

Neither the "Hardcore Homo" Jamal Wilson, nor "Hot Stuff" Chino Hernandez had a microphone. However, as soon as they entered the cage, Hernandez grabbed Hiroshima and casually chucked him out of the cage like he was a bag full of garbage. Hiroshima would somehow manage to get impaled by the half-full bag of potato chips and the broken shards of potted plant.

Perfect and Dead, weary from their Roshambo competition, looked up at the San Francisco Connection.

"Is it time for a game of Pokemon?" Dead asked.

Jamal Wilson shook his head "no".

"Drat."

FtfWo Vs San Francisco Connection

Perfect and Dead gulped.

The San Francisco Connection started the match by incessantly beating the hell out of the FtfWo.

You know, like most people do.

Now, at some point, Chino Hernandez picked up Perfect and slammed him down onto the canvas in the center of the cage. And then, it happened.

He tore off his elbow pad and tossed it into the crowd. Then he waved his arms around, and ran off one side of cage.

Then the second.

Then the third.

And, of course, by the time he reached the fourth side, he was so winded that he collapsed.

Right on Perfect's poor, abused nuts.

"OHHHHHHH!!! BLOODY HELL!!!"

It, of course, didn't help that Chino just happilly remained on Perfect's crotch. But, of course, as Dead knocked down Wilson with what could only be described as "Poink", where Dead took off his boot and tossed it at Jamal's head, he knew that there was only one move that could take down the big guy.

He tore off the kneepad.

He ran into the cage. He hopped four times. He did the Macarena. He segued the Macarena into the Robot. He turned and moonwalked. Then he charged and dropped the leg.

The Epic DEAD Drop.

Immediately did Chino Hernandez get up.

"Aww, CRAP! Nobody ever sells for that move!"

Chino looked at Dead, "Well, maybe it's because you did it while wearing only one boot."
Then Chino lariated Dead back down to the canvas. After that, Jamal Wilson mounted the top of the cage, looking for the Shooting Star Press.

Then, something so horribly stupid occured that the universe almost collapsed upon itself in thought that there was something even more stupid than Woj.

Los Toros.

NAKED.

They ran into the cage from one end, ran right past Hernandez and Wilson, then ran out the other side. Behind them were various members of security, chasing after them with clothes and handcuffs in their possession.

Jamal Wilson blinked.

Chino Hernandez blinked.

Then they both smiled and exited the cage, chasing after the very naked Enrique Credibleno and Avo Chavez.

Little did they realize that they just did the single most idiotic thing in Asylum history.

They just gave the FtfWo a ringout victory.

cHEESE retrieved a microphone from the rear of his title belt as he signaled for the conclusion of "Sellout." His request was granted, thus he started his tirade.

"One week ago," he began, rubbing his title belt, "you and everyone you see before you were treated to a taste of history. An event no one could have ever predicted in a million years.

cHEESE and egg NOG. The Legion of Dairy. TWO TIME! TWO TIME! Asylum Team Champions. The first the company ever had."

cHEESE paused to bask in his moment of glory, fans began to cheer cHEESE as egg NOG applauded his partner.

"I thank you for the kind gesture," cHEESE added, raising his hand in a sign of humility, "but that's not the only reason we're here. In fact it's not so much personal as is it... professional. You see, when you make history in the Asylum special things happen, and I don't mean you find a bottle of peach schnapps with a ribbon around it in your locker one night."

"Was it eggnog?!" egg NOG interrupted.

"No." cHEESE said, turning towards his partner. "It was not eggnog, please stick to the game plan."

egg NOG nodded as cHEESE cleared his throat and continued.

"No, in fact it's something far greater. Something every man desires. Not just wealth...

But power."

The crowd began to murmur as Dead and Perfect were clearly as confused as the rest.

cHEESE smirked as he polished the medallion on his belt his forearm to kill a few seconds.

"Oh, no, it's true." cHEESE finally continued. "Joe's a very grateful individual, he rewards success with power. Power with success. It's a nice, little, profitable circle.

You see, what Joe has done is give us our own division.

And not just any old division, mind you, but Asylum's TEAM DIVISION."

The crowd erupted in cheers. The Legion of Dairy exchanged smiles as Dead and Perfect were reluctant to believe what they'd just heard. cHEESE passed the microphone onto egg NOG who continued.

"I know you don't want to believe what you're hearing. 'It's not possible' you say. Well it most certainly is. Joe has given full control of the Team Division to us. All Tag Teams in said division will now report to us and only us. Not Joe, not Universal, but the LoD."

The crowd's reaction was almost neutral, cheers still the most dominate, but small sections of boos could be heard as well.

"If you don't believe me, ask Joe. He should be here any second, actually."

"Smack My Bitch Up" by Prodigy.

Right on cue.

"Why, there's Joe now!" egg NOG boomed with delight.

A promotional shot of Joe Campbell appeared on the Asylumtron as all eyes shifted to the photo.

"How goes it Joseph?" egg NOG asked with a smile.

"..."

egg NOG nodded. "Riiiigggghhhht. So care to dispel the rumors and clear up this little situation once and for all?"

"..."

"Ok, how about this. Do cHEESE and egg NOG, better known as the Legion of Dairy, have complete and total control of the Asylum Team Division and all Tag Teams therein?"

egg NOG covered his microphone with his hand as he let out a mighty "CCCOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEECCCCCTTTTTT!"

egg NOG was quick to add, "and there you have it ladies and gentlemen! We are the gods of the Team Division!"

Cheers.

"And our first act as the rulers of all things tag...

This match was, by no means, sanctioned by cHEESE or myself to happen, therefor it will thrown out post-haste!"

Dead and Perfect erupted in anger, fans joining in with boos.

egg NOG tried to calm the bitter fans, "I know it's not the 'smart' thing to do, but rules are rules. FtfWo and the San Francisco Connection broke these rules. We'll make exceptions for no one. It's only fair."

Not sure what he was to do, the referee threw the match out and informed the announcer to inform the match would be a 'no contest'. The announcer repeated what he was told. Fans weren't pleased as could be expected.

"Sellout" began to play as cHEESE and egg NOG exited back to the limbo of the backstage.

If you could see their face, you would know that cHEESE and egg NOG were actually shocked.

"It worked. It actually, truly worked." cHEESE mumbled to egg NOG.

“What time do you call this Keegan? I hope you do not stand your dates up like this. I have been waiting here for at least twenty minutes.”

Carrahar grins: “Bonjour bonny lass. Well excuse me if I’d known I had female company I can assure you not only would I have been here, but we’d be naked by now.”

“Is that right?”

“I think so like.”

She tapes her foot and says: “Anyway, get yourself ready.”

The Englishman is shocked and takes his shirt off: “Where do you want me?”

Warwick shakes his head and Tapestry moves in closer and she whispers as she looks up at him: “In the cage. We have got a tag team match tonight. I will wait here while you get changed but don’t be long.”

He dashes into his room: “Don’t worry pet. I’m just coming - not literally though. My name’s not Boris Becker.”

“You did, did you?” Came the voice of TMM, who was sitting, reading a copy of Pyrotechnic Monthly. “You do realise that an epiphany isn’t something you go to the doctor to get some cream for.”

Slapnutz came out of the bathroom, still buttoning up his jeans. Of course, this being Slapnutz, the jeans weren’t the most important thing on his mind. He snatched the copy of Pyrotechnic Monthly from TMM before he could finish doing up his jeans. The end result was a 256lbs Scotsman, holding a glossy magazine whilst his trousers were round his ankles. Not the prettiest of pictures but better than watching an old guy marry some slut in their underwear.

“Of course I realise that. Do you think I’m stupid or something?”

TMM didn’t give him an answer. Instead, he whistled the tune to Knightrider. TMM had longed of meeting David Hasselhoff, just so he could punch him in the face and claim to have destroyed the “guy from Knightrider”

Slapnutz had lost track of the conversation anyway. His attention span occasionally matched that of a Sparrow. However, most of the time it matched that of a goat. Not a good thing in the crazy world of fighting. The Scotsman closed the magazine and looked at the front page.

The main picture was of some fWo wrestler and a flashy pyrotechnic entrance. It was like an explosion in Chinatown was going on behind the wrestling superstar. Slapnutz threw down the magazine in disgust.

“I can’t believe they put that garbage on the front of such an esteemed magazine,” Slapnutz moaned. The moaning was greeted by groan from TMM. You see, TMM knew it was that time of the day. His team mate had shaved, showered AND shit, so now it was time for a bitching session. Routine, it was hard to break.

“Slap, do you see? This person is loved by the fans. They are cheered for their athletic ability and they remember to pull their jeans up. In fact, this person apparently has morals and doesn’t kick seven lumps of shite out of people for a living. You, however, are a thug. As am I. Nowt we can do about it. We are about as mainstream as Rowdy Roddy Piper right now.”

“Well ‘mok’ to that. I’m going to get on the front of a magazine soon. Mark my words. Plus, if you help me I’ll stop moaning. I want to be on the front of Rolling Stone magazine. I want to be like Britney Spears and Christina Aguinaga…”

“It’s Aguila, actually,” TMM interrupted. Neither man could pronounce foreign names, therefore they like to keep their feuds simple. No chance they’ll be facing Los Toros any time soon.

“Well, whatever her name is, I’m going to follow in their footsteps.”

“Slap, Britney was semi-naked in her photo shoot and Aguila was naked, with only a guitar to cover her T&A”

“What’s your point? “

Slapnutz looked at TMM. After a minute of uneasy silence, TMM sat up. He didn’t really have an idea, per se, but it he did realise that there was fun to be had at the expense of his partner.

“Okay, Slap, let’s go make you a household name.”

“Are we going to chance my name to Coca-Cola?” Slapnutz asked.

TMM, exasperated, could only come up with a simple shake of his head and motioned for Slapnutz to follow him out of the locker room.

“BY VIOLENCE, DIVIDED BY DEATH!”

Yeah, the fans knew that one off by heart at this point. They all sang along with the chant as it hit the speakers and then transformed into…

“Just So You Know”, American Headcharge.

Oooh, that means that more than one of them is coming out doesn’t it? Yes it did. As down the ramp came the likes of Tapestry, Keegan and, oh my. The Freak. The fans cheered and applauded the arrival of the hard-bitten and callous fighters, who ambled down the ramp in no distinct fashion or order. The Freak wasn’t even in costume yet, which surely meant that he had only just arrived. He placed one unlaced boot down in front of the other, his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat underneath which he bore no shirt.

Keegan followed in his usual all-black-and-white suit, with a Newscastle Scarf wrapped around his neck in honour of his team who played yesterday. Tapestry was beside him as they hopped into the cage and each drew a microphone out of their clothing.

The music was cut, and the fans died down.

The Freak began.

“Oh, my. It seems that Mister Universal wishes to cling on to the wing of Joe Campbell’s aeroplane with his nails digging in, scratching our immaculate paintwork. We don’t want that do we? You don’t know what repulsive, sellout micro-organisms the passengers may come in contact with. Now. After Villam Ender, who I must admit is quite the bane of my existence in his own right, beat your man, pizza-face, Exxa Decimal… I must solicit you. In a forthcoming, casual manner. You know, man to man.

“Why, the fuck, are you still here?

“Universal. Stranglehold. Chickenchoke. Wrestlers. Whoever, whatever, you wish to call yourselves. I candidly, have not got an inkling as to why you are still here. Other than to receive further abuse and torment at *our* hands, and further dampen you public image with out urine.”

“We’re In This Together Now”. Nine Inch Nails. Not that the lyrics still fitted, whatsoever. He just didn’t have a chance to search through his CD collection looking for suitable music.

What do you think he is, a teenager?

No, he’s Chris Universal.

“Wait. Stop and rewind there… ‘Freak’. Who said that I *had* to be here? I am here of my own free will. I am here to FINALLY PROVE, that Stranglehold CAN and WILL complete their mission. We’re not giving up, unfortunately for you people… we’re not giving up until we’ve won…

“Or we’re DEAD.”

Keegan pulled a microphone out of his own pocket, and raised it to his mouth.

“Shut your fucking face man. You’re talking drivel.”

WOOO! The fans liked that. Universal obviously didn’t, as he began to walk up and down angrily atop the ramp. Keegan continued…

“You make it sound like it’s World War Three or something. Come on now. You’ve lost your God Boy, why don’t you just pack your bags and fuck off back to your homeland and bathe in money with Scrooge McDuck?”

The crowd laughed. They were pointing and laughing at Universal. And Universal was not a man to be laughed at. He hated being laughed at, he wasn’t a joke. He was a saviour, a modern day martyr for Wrestling. How could these people reject his superiority?

“SHUT UP, shut up shut up. NOW LISTEN,” Universal started. “I came here for a PURPOSE. I did not come here for fun and games. I came here to RID THE WORLD, to rid you people, of the pox on the face of wrestling that is the Asylum…”

Keegan cut him off.

“Pox on the face of wrestling? WRESTLING? Um. Sorry mate. This isn’t wrestling, it’s FIGHTING. We have nothing to do with you sweaty, greasy pieces of shit. So why are you even here? Do you share the same hatred for… BOXING? Why don’t you fuck off and try and blow up WBO HQ? I’m sure Don King’s mob will have a bullet through your face in a heartbeat.

“You see, fighting for GOOD is a dangerous thing, when most of the world are rocking on their headphones to the sounds of BAD. These people don’t WANT wrestling, they don’t WANT to be ‘saved’. They want turds like you to piss off back to the arse that you came from. See?”

Universal dropped his head into his hands and clutched at his hair. His face was reddening.
It got redder when The Freak started to speak.

“You’re looking rather like Alice, post falling down the Rabbit Hole, Universal. This land is a land of chaos. We don’t share the same ideals and morals as you. This land is perverse, disgusting and vile. It’s a land where the Mad Hatter rules the roost and the others are left talking to the mirror in dire hope that MYABE. MAYBE. They’ll live. Here, you don’t strive to entertain. You strive to SURVIVE. To walk out of this cage with your face intact is an accomplishment in itself… how about you ask, Noah Hawkins.”

“Noah… Hawkins…? Why, ‘Freak’, what did you do to Noah Hawkins?”

The voice. The Zone knew it. And it was coming from behind him. It was the Junkie 5403 himself. The Freak turned and looked behind him, to see Noah Hawkins standing atop the commentary desk, with a microphone in his hand.

BOOOOOO.

“Do you see this? This, fucking… fucking… UGH, this THING on my face? This scar? This sickening deformity that means I have to wear a MASK just to keep my job?” Hawkins hissed, as he pointed the scabbed, red, scarred ‘X’ on his face. “I have to live with this. FOREVER. Because of my trip to this place… you’ve made me a FREAK, like YOU, for the rest of my life. But do you know what? I don’t plan on living much longer anyway.

“If I just understood WHY. If I knew why you did this to me, then maybe I could, I don’t know. See what purpose it serves maybe?

“Freak. I’m still here and I’m with Universal. But it’s not THE ASYLUM that I hate. It’s YOU.”
The Freak paused. Then he slowly walked over to the rim of the cage.

“Noah… you’ll never understand me, so I won’t even begin on why I did that to you. You’ll never know. You’ll live your entire life wondering WHY, wondering why you bear that mark on your features and what it stands for. You’ll have surgery to try and erase it, you’ll look in the mirror and stare into it’s recesses looking for an answer but you won’t find it.

“Son. You should never have decided to take a holiday to the Asylum. Shit happens, yes? Shit happens. Shit happens every day. And two weeks ago shit happened to you.” The Freak finished as Noah raised the microphone to start on his own speech.

“WHY.”

Okay, maybe it wasn’t a speech. But it garnered just as much response, as The Freak simply shook his head.

“You know what? I say. FUCK IT.” Keegan began. “WE’LL end this, at Persecution. I’ll get the match passed. I’ll kiss Campbell’s arse if I have to, to get this match. ALL OF US, against ALL OF YOU, yes?”

Universal pondered. He didn’t want to accept the challenge straight off, he needed to consider all possible outcomes… true tactical geniuses don’t just barge into things, do they? No, of course they don’t.

“Well…”

“Well?”

“Well…”

“Well what, you fucking stupid CUNT!?” Keegan roared at Universal. “YES or NO, your fag-end FUCKER!?”

“Wait.”

And then, Universal headed backstage. Not another word… he literally stuffed his microphone in his pocket and left.

BOOOOOOOOO.

“Oh well. It looks like the fudge-packing twat has placed his tail between his legs and headed back off to wankerland. Oh well. I don’t need your permission anyway. I’ll ask Campbell for the match *myself*, yes? He has all the power around here.” Keegan smirked, then turned to Hawkins. “As for you, you little disgruntled twat, keep your over-easily depressed teenage arse out of this.”

Hawkins… left.

BOOOOOOOOO.

And after the boos? A nice little chant broke out.

“PUSS-EE!”

“PUSS-EE!”

“PUSS-EE!”

“PUSS-EE!”

“Ah well. That concludes our speech ladies and gentlemen. May you enjoy the rest of the evening.”

And with that, “Just So You Know” hit and they made their way backstage…

TMM and Slapnutz came bursting through the door of the office, followed by Jock and Mr Pink. Of course, Mr Pink was still walking with a limp due to fighting injuries sustained several months ago, but it didn’t stop his enthusiasm.

TMM stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the icy glare that the owner of the Asylum was giving Splink. Slapnutz, on the other hand, continued his run into the office and clattered into the back of his Polish compatriot. The end result was the founding members of Splink falling head over heels onto the desk of the-afore mentioned Mr Campbell.

“What the fuck do you bunch of twats want?” Joe barks into the faces of TMM and Slapnutz.

TMM stands up, brushes himself down, composes himself and begins a carefully planned speech.

“Joe, I can call you Joe, can’t I?”

Joe looks down at his desk and, more importantly, at the gun lying in the open drawer.
“Well, Joe, my colleague, Slapnutz, had a fantastic talent. He is an excellent singer and once backed The Amazing Suprendo at the Royal Variety Performance.”

“The who?” Joe asked.

“No, they split up before Slapnutz could speak. Anyway, we feel that his talents could make a lot of money for everyone. Except Mr Pink because he would only be a backing dancer…although he is a cripple. Maybe we should have thought about this thoroughly.”

“So, the Scottish twat can sing? So what? Does he want a medal? Why not get the fuck out of my office and prepare for your match?”

Slapnutz turns around, resigned to the fact that he won’t be famous. He scratches his arse before walking towards the door.

“Wait,” TMM begins “we can prove that he is worth backing. Slapnutz will compete in a tournament with others to become Asylum Idol. At the end of it all, the winner can get a recording contract and you can have the chance to promote them. It’ll make you millions and millions if you get someone talented enough.”

Joe looks blankly at TMM. It’s not every day you have a large Polish fighter telling you how a large Scotsman can help you make millions. Plus, after a lot of booze, it’s not the easiest thing to take in.

“You want to do an Asylum version of that Pop Idol shite? You want me to back them? You think it’ll make me millions?”

“Yes, yes and probably not but that’s not the point. Imagine the television exposure the Asylum will get. Crowd levels will soar and buy-rates will become massive just so young girls and faggots can watch their new pop idol get his arse handed to him.”

“Hey, I never get my arse handed to me,” Slapnutz interjected.

“Whatever, Slutnutz. The fact is, Joe, it makes sense. All I ask for is a 25% cut of all that the winner makes.”

“I’ll tell you what, Splink, you all get the fuck out of my office and I’ll think about it. I just don’t want you idiots coming anywhere near me for a while,” Joe ordered.

With those words from the boss, the collective unit known as Splink all skipped out of the office of Joe Campbell. Well, not everyone. Mr Pink hobbled out, Zippy walked out as did TMM. Slapnutz ran out, proclaiming this to be the greatest day the week. So, none of them actually skipped out, but it would have been nice.

He'd just finished with the idiots for the night, or she he thought.

The door opened.

“Argh, fuck off you cunts… I’m having a drink here, it’s not nice to be interrupted and OH!” Campbell stopped. “It’s you.”

Keegan, Tapestry and The Freak. Exactly one half of The Zone. Where Splink and Willis were is debatable… but still.

“ ‘Evening Joe. How are you today?” Keegan asked politely, straightening his tie.

“Uh… alright thanks, can I just point something out mate, you know… friend to friend?”

“Of course.”

“Your suit doesn’t make you look any less a caveman than you usually look, come on, your nose has been broken how many times?”

Keegan paused and glared at Campbell. Joe raised his arms in the air to indicate no offence, although there surely was. Nonetheless, Keegan let the comment pass and continued in his little speech.

“Well. You hired us to do away with Stranglehold, yes?”

“Yes… which you currently haven’t, but still. It’s nice and useful having a little task force of ugly cunts at my disposal…” Joe sniggered, then stopped when he realized that Tapestry was looking at him oddly. Keegan continued.

“Well. Look at it this way. The only chance we’ve had is the five-way at pAin and that was frankly rather tame. No, we want them ALL. Give us the opportunity and we’ll have them all crammed up their own arses and package-ready for a special delivery to Guam. But… not a normal match, I want something special.”

“I follow… Extreme match alright? I’ll just sign the papers and…”

“Fuck off. I mean… no. What’s the point in that, we still have fans to care for. Safety laws to bypass… what’s the point in all the trouble?”

“Well what do you want you Geordie cun… I mean… I can’t just buy a fucking country for you to fight in can I.”

“No… but, what if. You gave us an EMPTY ARENA, to fight in, eh?”

Joe pondered this for a moment. You could hear the cogs whizzing in his head as he totalled up the amount of money it’d cost to rent out an empty arena for the night. Well, you couldn’t hear it. But well… oh, fuck off.

“Right. You get your empty arena if you promise me, you fuck them up, yes? I’m not talking your average ‘Beat them, make them bleed’ shit. Show them a piece of the Asylum and DISMEMBER the fuckers. Promise me that careers will be ended, and I’ll book it.”

Keegan was about to talk again, but The Freak stepped forwards.

“I can promise you that. Careers will be ended. Lives will be distorted, faces will be maimed and time will stop, time will stop in awe of the damage that we have created. Daytime TV shows will not be able to show stills or highlights of our labours at 2AM. I’ll dance on their bones and come out in a beautiful streaming, glowing coat of their blood. You pay me, you get your money’s worth, son.”

“O… okay…?” Joe said, in a rather croaky voice.

“It’s settled then. At Persecution, Joe. We shall take Stranglehold off your hands.”

NVC Vs Splink

"We're going to wipe the ring with these bozos! Slapnutz and TMM, who are they? Our first victims!" shouted Danger as he and Duncan headed towards the ominous structure known as the Asylum. Max hadn't noticed it. Finally Jessica stopped, and Duncan entered the mesh-surrounded ring. That was when Danger's jaw dropped.

He hadn't expected this. He had expected something similiar to EYE, a company Duncan had previous worked for. Cages surrounded a wrestling ring. Nothing like this. He wasn't about to enter there. He quickly looked at his white and gold attire, busting out the important gear for their debut, and shook his head violently. He looked over at Jessica,

"I'm not getting in there! They'll kill me!"

The look on Jessica's face showed that she was in complete agreement with her husband's assessment, and it didn't comfort him in the least. 'The Silent One', as Bradley was sometimes referred to as, just jumped up and down inside the Asylum, preparing for the fight.

He had only the experience of EYE(where it was a hell in a cell surrounding a ring), and one pure shootfight, which took place in a wrestling ring. He hadn't the experience needed for such competition, but he had the knowledge of what they were about.

He was prepared to test that knowledge on this night. His partner, however, wasn't so eager to join him. He held firm his footing, arguing with the referee about entering the ring. "NO!" he shouted. "I'm not doing it! Nope, not gonna happen!" He then turned his back to the referee and crossed his arms in front of him, like a little boy pouting because he wasn't getting his way. The fans began to get on him slightly, calling him a pussy and chicken shit, among other things.

But he didn't move a muscle. Then "Going Underground" by The Jam started to play. Danger looked to the entrance, as did everyone in the crowd, and through it walked Slapnutz and TMM. Splink had arrived.

Danger quickly backed up into the Asylum, completely unaware of that fact. Splink entered right after him, and looked at him and Duncan. Danger quickly jumped behind his partner, tears forming in his eyes. The referee gave the call, and the fight was on. Splink charged at NVC, and Danger let out a loud yelp, very much similiar to that of a small girl's.

Duncan took the hit from Slapnutz and TMM, kicks to each side of him. He fired back with a kick of his own, which landed against TMM's face. He stumbled backwards, and Bradley went at him. He was turned around by Slapnutz, however, and drilled in the face with a hard right hand.

Duncan staggered a couple of paces, leaving 'The Danger Man' completely out in the open.

He let out a high-pitch shriek as he ran from Slapnutz. Duncan had turned his attention to trying to help out his partner, which left him open for TMM to attack.

TMM had slammed a fist into the back of Bradley's head, sending him sprawling forward.

Duncan then turned to face the man who had sucker-punched him, and got another fist in the face. He stumbled on his heels, falling up against the mesh walls. TMM then charged at 'The Silent One'.

He had moved.

CRASH!!!

TMM slammed hard into the cage wall and tumbled to the mat. Duncan stepped over him as he saw his partner, the so-called 'Danger Man' balled in up the fetal position against the wall, crying like a little girl. Slapnutz had just stood over him, laughing. Jessica stood on the outside, shouting at him to leave her husband alone.

As he continued to laugh, Bradley grabbed him by the waist and chucked him over his head.

He landed hard after the release German Suplex. Bradley pushed Slapnutz onto his back then locked in...

Dangerous IV!

Cross Armbreaker!

Slapnutz wasn't liking the hold at all. Max Danger then came out of his fetal position. He wiped away some of his tears and began to point and laugh at the predictament Slapnutz had gotten himself into. Danger just howled with laughter. He even kicked him once in the face.

TMM, though, had recovered. He spun 'The Danger Man' around and punched him solidly in the face. Blood gushed from his mouth, and dripped down onto his white and gold tights.

He then ran. Ran like the wind. Forrest Gump-style.

He leapt over the railing, as TMM chased him down. And it was over.

Just like that.

Ring out victory for Splink.

Duncan released Slapnutz from the Dangerous IV, and just looked around to figure out what was going on. He looked through the mess wall, and saw his partner, in the arms of Jessica, crying and whining,

"HE PUNCHED ME! IN THE NOSE! LOOK AT IT!" he screamed, blood pouring from the nose. Jessica consoled him the best that she could, as Duncan just walked out, following his partner.

Inside the ring, Splink celebrated their victory as "Going Underground" played overhead.

What a sad debut for the former PIW World Tag Team Champions. Yup, sure looked like they were going to change the landscape of team fighting in Asylum forever.

*Snigger*

However, he still had a problem: Villam Ender. Although he was now back at the helm of his own company, Joe didn’t approve of the new kingpin, fearing what the unpredictable and controversial Champion may do if he’s allowed to roam.

Tyler Burton, still injured but determined to return, had enjoyed an excellent title reign up until November and desperately wanted to regain the corporation’s crown. The evil Englishman was happy to back Burton in his quest to do so. At this minute in time, he just wanted to prise the most prestigious prize in the promotion from the man who had murdered his own flesh and blood, Exxa Decimal, in order to claim the Championship.

With D’Alessandro just a few steps behind him and the executive who had guided him to the office, Willis was ready to meet the man, Joe Campbell, to see what is so important that warrants a personal meeting. He orders the official to knock on the door before telling him that he is now ‘free to fuck off’ as Campbell says: “Come in.”

John walks in, his Italian associate still with him, as the Owner smiles: “Hello John. Sit down.”

He declines: “No thank you. I’d rather stand.”

The Chief chuckles again as he sees the behemoth cross his arms, rather like a child, albeit a big one: “Not that I give a fuck whether you stand or not.”

“Can we get on with this? I may work for you, I appreciate that, but I’d rather be cracking heads than wasting my time in some shitty office exchanging insults.”

“Who said anything about insults? Anyway, John, yes I am your fucking employer and I know that you’d rather be kicking arse, which is why I’ve got your ugly fucking face over here.

You’re not exactly a handsome bugger.

“Anyway, I want the title from Villam, the fucking bastard that he is, and for now I’m banking on Burton to do it.”

Willis rudely interrupts Joe’s story by yawning: “And? Unless I’m getting a title shot or being assigned a fight, I could care less Campbell with all due respect of course.”

He leans forward: “This has got something to do with you, you big bastard. Now shut the fuck up and listen to me. Honestly, you fucking Yanks.

“Now, I’m aware of what you did last week. And you may like to know that I’m being sued for the damage you did to that bloke last week. Personally, I don’t care about the shit, but his state is set to cost me a lot of money because of you. Who the fuck do you think you are?”
By this time, probably Joe’s purpose, Willis is enraged and has moved forward to confront Campbell only to be thwarted by the intervening D’Alessandro: “Who the fuck do I think I am? Boss or not, fucking talk to me like that again and you’ll know exactly who I am you English prick.”

Nevertheless, the wealthy businessman has not yet flinched: “So. Where was I? Oh yes, and if you do put your hands on me you will return to the underground you miserable fucker, but getting back to what I actually brought you here for.

“The Inmate wants that title more than anything and you can’t afford the legal fees I’m being quoted, so here’s the deal.

“Next week, you will face Tyler. If he wins, he gets to meet Villam for the Championship and if you win, then I’ll forget about last week’s episode and pay for your shit, but do not let it happen again. And as your man The Freak will be facing Shit Dick himself later on, you may even be able to strike up a deal with the nutter if he wins.... do we have a deal?”

John grunted: “I suppose so. How much has the twat sued us for?”

“I can’t believe it! You’re scared of Inmate! Shall I just forfeit the fucking fight now?”

D’Alessandro stepped in: “No. That isn’t necessary. He just wants to know how much damage he has cost.”

“It’s nothing really. Just three million Yank pounds. Pittance really. But you can’t afford it.”

Michael was shocked while Willis laughed: “Is that it? Three million dollars? That can’t be right? Fuck, I’m losing my touch!”

“Like I give a fuck. Just make sure you turn up next week. And another thing: I don’t mind you maiming people, but next time can sure make sure it’s a fucking Wrestler, preferably one of those who works for Universal? Cheers. Now get the fuck out.”

The Indiana native had no answer to that. He couldn’t compare to Campbell in terms of wit, which was blatantly obvious, but he isn’t paid to be funny. And he is intent on letting The Inmate know that, this time next week…

The gypos are clearly drunk. In fact, gypo #1 is lying; face down in a puddle of his own vomit.

Gypo #2 is fairing slightly better, but he believes he IS female and is chatting up a nearby plant pot. TMM, on the other hand, is bright eyed and bushy tailed. Almost like a goat.

“Can we have the first performer please,” TMM shouts at the door of the locker room.

On cue, a local resident of the streets (or a hobo to me and you) stumbles through the door.

He proceeds to do a half-hearted version of the can-can before falling on his arse. The hobo brushes himself down and bursts into a version of ‘Lady Marmalade’, minus the sexy underwear that the ladies in the video wore. Well, so we thought. At the end of his performance, the hobo pulls off his shirt and trousers to reveal a lovely matching corset and stocking combination.

“Well,” TMM begins, “this is disgusting. You expect Joe Campbell to promote something this shite? Do you see? You look like you crawled out the arse of a transvestite from Rochdale and proceeded to drink Absinthe from the scrotum of a man from Gozo. What do you two think?”

Gypo #1 let’s out a gargling sound, which TMM translates as “Fuck off”. Gypo #2 gives the hobo his phone number before pouncing on the plant pot and making sweet gypo love to it.

“Looks like you don’t make it to the final. You are the weakest link…goodbye.”

The hobo leaves the room, leaving the judges with a sight of his hairy arse wobbling away from them. Upon his exit, act number two comes walking into the room. Zippy and Mr Pink enter the room and stand in front of the judges. Both men are in silver hot pants ad red vests.

The word fugly doesn’t do this pairing justice. They are, in fact, the worst sight ever to grace the room they are standing in.

“Okay, what’s your name?” TMM asks the duo.

“We are the Cheeky Guys and we are cheeky,” Mr Pink answers.

“Okay, verse and a chorus please. No Gary Glitter nonsense please. Let’s have some Shakin’ Stevens or something.”

Mr Pink and Zippy start a reasonably well-choreographed dance routine. They slap each other’s arses a couple of times and then burst into song:

We are the Cheeky Guys
Touch our bum
Cheeky Cheeky
Touch our cheeks
We are the Cheeky Guys
This is life.

The same lines are sang repeatedly for three minutes before Mr Pink collapses on top of Zippy and the routine is over. By the time they have finished, gypo #1 is curled up in a ball underneath the table; gypo #2 has his trousers round his ankles, humping the plant pot and TMM is singing along, dancing in his chair.

“Well done Cheeky Guys, I’m very impressed. You can go through to the final, which takes place next week. I have a strong feeling that you will go far in this business. But, in order to still come across as being a cunt, I’m going to have to say your hair is shit and you look like the bastard children of Ru Paul and Elton John.”

The Cheeky Guys shake the hands of TMM before heading off to prepare for the final next week. Excellent.

“Just So You Know”. Ah yes, The Zone. The fans hopped up from their chairs and began to roar support for their heroes of the night. Having seen the backstage promo earlier, featuring Joe Campbell’s approval of the Empty Arena bout…they were ecstatic.

Tapestry and Keegan were announced as they appeared at the top of the ramp, but for some reason The Freak once more accompanied them. He followed loosely behind, as did Oddball, as Keegan and Tapestry whispered quietly to eachother. The four of them hopped into the cage and took opposing ends of the cage, each mounting their respective rim and raising a single arm to the fans.

Then…

“Climbatize”.

BOOO!

DIE YOU FUCKERS!

YOU SUCK! *clapclapclap*

YOU SUCK! *clapclapclap*

YOU SUCK! *clapclapclap*

Jeff Garvin strolled from behind the curtains adjusting his wrist tape, with his usual miserable grimace and his absolutely awful multi-coloured tights on. Upon walking halfway down the ramp, well… sliding halfway down the ramp, due to the colossal amount of beer and shit been thrown at him; his partner for the night appeared and…

Oh, my. To quote The Freak. It was Noah Hawkins… but what the crowd wanted to know, is why the fuck he was facing the exact opposite direction to the cage.

Hawkins walked, backwards, down the ramp, his hands clasped over his face and his usually-spiked hair now combed over his features. Upon turning around, he still tried to hide away his disfigurement. However, as Stranglehold were about to collectively storm the cage…

“HOWAY MAN!”

Keegan stopped the pair with an extension of his palm. In his other hand, he clasped a microphone.

“And where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

CHEERS~!

“Come on like. Look at the pair of you. We have this gaudy looking pile of turd, with his horrible garish tights and crap haircut on one side. And Jeff Hardy minus any charisma that the aforementioned grappler may have, PLUS a horrid deforming gash on his mug, on the other? I mean, come on, lad. Do you really think that you’ll EVER get laid AGAIN with that monstrosity!?”

CHEERS~!

“Not that you ever got laid in the first place, you barrel-fish teenage cunt.”

CHEERS~!

Noah didn’t flinch. His facial expression didn’t change, almost like he didn’t care. Garvin on the other hand was totally furious, pacing up and down behind his tag-partner.

“Just you wait, you wai..” Garvin began, but Hawkins shut him up with a waft of the hand.

“See, you stupid Yank twat (no offence to those in attendance like), even your own partner can’t stand the whiney sound of your voice. Tosser. And why are you even bothering come down here? I thrashed your arse only a couple of weeks ago, you soft shite.” Keegan laughed.

“Keegan, my English cuntish friend, may I join in here in aiding you whipping the wide-arses with a Wordsworth-like banter of the very top calibre?” Oddball chipped in, a microphone now sandwiched in his hand.

“Why, of course, you ginger haired yank bastard.” Keegan smiled politely. “Would you like to begin?”

“OH, FOR GOD’S SAKE! Can we please have our match now?” Garvin moaned, raising his arms to the skies.

“Garvin, fucking hell mate, I forfeit! Your tights are so nauseous that three moves in I’d be adding my own funky microbes to them via vomit. I mean for fuck’s sake, how do you expect to score with a haircut like that? You look like my sixth grade Biology teacher and he was a cunt too. You call yourself ‘The Original’, yet you’re far from it… in fact, I think I’m getting a telephone call here…

*Oddball holds fingers to ear and mouth*

“Oh yeah… right, I see. Bye. Sorry Jeff.

“That was DUSTY RHODES, he wants his TIGHTS back.”

CHEERS~!

“You… I hate this place, I hate it! You know, when I get out of here I’ll be so glad to see the back of it I’ll throw a party, and YOU are NOT invited! MEANIES!” Garvin shouted, jumping up and down angrily. Hawkins was now seated on the Guardwall, his head hung down.

“…”

“Keegan…” said Oddball, inquisitively.

“Yes?”

“Did Garvin just say that he had friends?”

“I believe that he did. As ridiculous as it may sound, the queer seems to think that someone would converse with him. He’s quite mistaken though. I very much doubt that ANYONE, in their right minds, would even step within a four foot radius of him in fear of blinding themselves on his tights.”

“STOP TAKING THE MICKEY OUT OF MY TIGHTS ALREADY! Don’t you think you’ve done that to death!?” Garvin burst out.

“Well there’s plenty of other things that I could extract the urine from you with,” Oddball began; “Your chubby face, your lopsided nipples that make you look like Lex Luger when constipated, your lack of a title that you didn’t make out of cardboard, the fact that you haven’t got one iota of charisma, the actuality in your flagrant homosexuality, and…

“Your virginity.”

The crowd began to point and laugh at Garvin, who was now red in the face, grating his teeth and hissing.

“Your petty insults mean nothing to me~! I’m Mister Wrestling, I’m the Original, I… I…!” Garvin began to squeal and moan uncharacteristically.

“Go get some pussy, Jeff. Or some cock. WHATEVER. Something to make you look less of a B-Squared prick.” Oddball interrupted.

“I HATE YOOOOOUUU!!” Garvin wailed.

“Wow, stop, you’re going to make me cry. Really, look. Can you see the tears in my eyes? I’m fucking insulted. Oh wait. No, I’m not. You’re not nearly as abrasive enough. Come on Garvin, come get some attitude lessons with me. You can bring your pet sideshow freak with you, you know, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Punkshit.” Oddball sneered, then turned to Keegan and added…

“Um… Keegan, why are we here again?”

“We’re here to dismember a pair of arse-lickers. And, as of now. I’m declaring this bout. An EXTREME match, yes?”

Hawkins began to nod excitedly at the prospect of an Extreme match, but Garvin was far from amused.

The bell rang.

Tapestry & Keegan Carrahar Vs Jeff Garvin & Noah Hawkins

Hawkins leapt onto the rim of the cage and jumped. The fans hopped o their feet in anticipation of a death-defying, insane stunt from the rookie… but it never quite came to pass, as he was yanked back into the cage by the belt of his pants and seated upon Keegan’s powerful shoulders.

THWACK!

Powerbomb. Hawkins spiked into the mat neck-first and bounced upwards like a rag doll.

“Ha! Eat shit!” Laughed Keegan as Hawkins struggled to get back up. Tapestry capitalized on the teenager’s disadvantage by slamming th heel of her boot into his face via a Buzzsaw kick, followed by another. And another. And two others, okay?

Garvin was fumbling with something on the outside during these occurrences and upon entering the cage, he revealed what exactly he’d been up to. He swung a crowbar that he’d managed to find nearby under the cage, which connected full-on with Keegan’s face and sent him toppling backwards into the cage wall with blood seeping from his nostrils.

Tapestry rushed towards her secondary opponent and managed to duck the crowbar shot, instead gifting Garvin with an open palm thrust to the side of the head. As Garvin shook that blow off, Tapestry lifted her leg up high and rocked him in the face with a thrust kick…

As Keegan kicked out Garvin’s legs and the same time.

“OWEEE!” screamed Garvin as he collapsed against the mat.

Hawkins meanwhile, was back on his feet… first avenging those welt-raising Buzzsaw kicks by hitting a Leg Lariat to the back of tapestry’s head, then making his presence known to Keegan by clotheslining him into the cage.

Keegan’s like, what? 6 inches taller than Hawkins? Yeah, I thought so. Well that gives him the right to…

No sell.

“Is that all you’ve got lad!?” Keegan laughed as he clamped his hands on either side of Hawkins’ head and hurled him over the rim of the cage…

Oh wait. No he didn’t. Because Noah, using his incredible agility, managed to cling onto the rim of the cage and turn his entire body 360 degrees… swinging back into the cage with a dropkick to Keegan’s face!

With Tapestry quickly getting to her feet, Noah decided to hop over the rim… this being an Extreme match and everything… and pull his decided weapon of choice out from beneath the ring.

A ladder.

As Tapestry looked over the edge to see what Noah was up to, he took a firm grip either side of the steps and…

SMACK~!

…thrust the pinnacle of the steps into Tapestry’s face. As he made his way towards the ring steps to take his new weapon back inside however…

“Hey, Hawkins!”

Noah turned around, to be greeted with The Freak’s foot connecting with a vicious roundhouse kick to the ladder, snapping the bars of the aforementioned object over Hawkins’ face. Hawkins toppled back, dumping the ladder behind him and collapsing in a heap.

“I don’t play, son.” The Freak said, his eye twitching slightly… he still hadn’t had the chance to take his overcoat off. He dragged Hawkins upwards by his hair and then clasped a taped hand around his throat, hoisting him into the air, squeezing the air out of his windpipe… before hurling him into the ring steps, breaking them apart from their hinges and clattering them all over the arena floor.

Meanwhile, in the cage… Garvin had successfully dispatched the dazed Tapestry to the outside with a lariat, and was now hunched over in pain from a kick to the groin… via way of Keegan Carrahar. Keegan wrapped his arms around his nemesis and hoisted him up into a vertical position…

WHAM, suplex. Of the Fisherman variety, not that it matters… no pinfalls in Asylum, remember?

Well, maybe it did matter. Because the extra grip Keegan had on Garvin due to the leg hooked, allowed him to hoist Garvin back to his feet… and WHAM. Hit another suplex, this time with such force that he had no choice but to release his clutch.

Upon rising to his feet Keegan signalled to the fans… reaching into his trousers, as he was still semi-dressed in his suit… and slipped on his knuckle dusters.

“FIVE thousand and a knuckle shu…”

Keegan couldn’t finish his sentence, as ignoring the pain in his lower back… Jeff Garvin was able to leap into the fray and tackle Keegan down into the mat with a sensational spear-like amateur wrestling takedown. He grappled the knuckle dusters away from the Geordie Genius and threw them to the outside, before locking up Keegan’s head in a headlock.

Keegan battled upwards into a standing position, with the help of the fans chants and his massive leg strength… then he wrapped his arms around Jeff’s waist, looking to take him over with a Back Suplex. Garvin was agile enough to flip over Keegan’s shoulder halfway through the move however, landing behind Keegan with a waistlock… THUD!

GERMAN SUPLEX!

Roll through.

THUD, there’s another one.

Roll through.

THWACK! He never executed the third… as Tapestry took the crowbar he had brought into the cage earlier, and slammed it into his head. Garvin stumbled forwards, giving Keegan time to turn around, grab his head… and splatter Jeff’s head into the canvas with a DDT.

Meanwhile, on the outside, Hawkins was being dismantled by The Freak. The Freak smashed Hawkins’ face repetitively into the apron until blood trickled down his features… before taking the seat of his pants and the crown of his hair and hurling him, effortlessly, over the Spanish announcers table.

We have a Spanish announcers table?

Apparently.

Hawkins breathed heavily in the pile of chairs and papers on the other side of the desk as The Freak grew closer. The man known often as the Emasculator jumped up onto the desk in a single bound, reached his arm over the table and pulled Hawkins up onto the desk, making sure that Noah was still suitably groggy by clobbering him in the face with a closed right fist. The Freak lay Hawkins across the commentary desk and looked down on him, holding his head up by his hair and whispering into his ear.

“I’m doing, what I am doing. For your own good. You don’t understand do you? No, of course you don’t. Nobody does…”

With that, The Freak picked up Hawkins…

And was sent flying from the commentary desk with a dropkick to the knee!

But not from Noah Hawkins.

From the fresh-from-the-back, RUBEN ROSS.

BOOOOO!!

“Yeah, boo to ya fuckin’ hearts content, bitches.” Ross snickered, as he hopped around contentedly, The Freak getting to his feet using the guard wall to steady himself. Hawkins staggered to his feet, and upon finding himself standing atop the commentary desk, scuttled back towards the cage… making sure to pick up his ladder on the way.

He set up the ladder near to the door of the cage, the steps towering almost fifteen feet high, and began to climb.

Back on the inside, Garvin was becoming the victim of a double-armbar from the likes of Tapestry and Keegan, but he managed to forward roll out of their collective grip and deliver a double-armdrag to whip them back down to the mat. Tapestry then ran at the now standing Garvin and attempted a flying kick, only to be ducked and taken down with a chop-block to the back of her knee.

Keegan swooped in like an avenging angle on Garvin, scooping him up and swinging him over for a bodyslam… that never quite connected. Garvin, being the master-technician of Tennessee, slid back over the Geordie’s shoulder and hooked his head back…

Reverse DDT, onto the crowbar~!

Garvin kept his arm locked on upon impact however, choosing to wrench back on Keegan with a Dragon Sleeper instead. Keegan moaned in pain… but when asked if he wished to continue by the referee, he replied negative.

The crowd gasped.

Garvin thought they were gasping because of his amazing ability to apply a strenuous Dragon sleeper, but Garvin was an arrogant prick.

No, they were gasping because Noah Hawkins… was perched atop the ladder. And Tapestry, in the ring, was beneath him.

He leapt, he soared.

FLIP.

SENTON BOMB.

Splat?

“HOLY SHIT!”

“HOLY SHIT!”

“HOLY SHIT!”

Hawkins connected with tapestry from atop the ladder, knocking the life out of not just his weaker-sex opponent but himself. He clutched his shoulder in agony as Tapestry spluttered out rather forebodingly implying an injury of some sort.

The referee made the count.

1!

2!

3!

4!

5!

6!

7!

8!

…

Keegan escaped the Dragon Sleeper, using brute force to throw Garvin off, whilst Tapestry dragged herself to her feet, her gown getting caught in the wire of the cage on the way up.

As Tapestry struggled to free herself from her rather awkward predicament, Garvin hammered down on her Tag partner in Keegan with devastating, clubbing blows to the back of the neck. Hawkins, having partially recovered, joined in with various assorted toe kicks to the gut of the big man… but a double clothesline attempt from the pair was ducked.

As they turned around…

KICK TO HAWKINS’ GUT.

KICK TO GARVIN’S GUT.

WHAM~!

Double DDT.

Keegan was spent. The three men gasped for breath on the floor, as Tapestry fumbled around attempting to free herself…

Meanwhile, up the ramp. Ruben Ross was continuing his assault on The Freak, who now had a minor cut opened above his eye. Ross wielded an already-dented chair menacingly, and didn’t hesitate to batter the object further by swiping it across the Red Ripper’s forehead. The Freak stumbled further up the ramp unintentionally with the blow, and even more so following a second swelteringly fast blow to the head.

“Most Violent Man Still Alive my ass. This guy’s a fuckin’ pussy,” Ross chortled as he swung the steel again…

WOOOOOO!

The Freak blocked it.

With his fist.

POW~!

A spinning fist knocked the chair into Ross’s face, and a Capoeira Low Sweep Kick to take Ross down. The Freak then picked up the chair for his own usage and slammed the chair into Ross’s back… over, and over again. The cheers getting louder with each crack of steel on bone.

Then, he rolled Ross over, laid the chair flat against his chest, and jumped up onto the guard wall. He raised his arms in the air and stood there for a moment…

Then leapt down, with a spiral double-foot-stomp, smashing the chair STRAIGHT into Ruben’s chest.

Heart Breaker.

The Freak then began heading back down to the cage…

Where Garvin was up and Tapestry was still trapped on the rim of the cage. Garvin sniggered and picked his blood-dampened crowbar up from the canvas, his smile growing broader… he swung the crowbar…

CLANG!

Steel on steel. Tapestry had ducked the crowbar and torn out of her gown just in time, thereby forcing her to fight in her undergarments. As Garvin turned around with a befuddled look on his face, he was greeted with three rapid-fire kicks to the noggin and a sweep kick that sent him out of the cage and tumbling, head-first to the concrete.

DRAGON SUPLEX~!

Noah Hawkins, out of nowhere, hooked Tapestry up in a full nelson and slammed her into the mat on the point of her neck. She rolled into a corner, holding her neck…

FIVE KNUCKLE SHUFFLE~!

Keegan, meanwhile, had slipped on his brass knucks, and as soon as Hawkins turned around… he was knocked totally on his arse with a colossal punch from the metal fist of the Prince of Palermo!

The Freak aided Tapestry in getting to her feet, as the referee started to register a count on the Strangleholders…

1!

2!

3!

4!

5!

6!

7!

8!

9!

…

10~!

The fans jumped to their feet as the final call from the referee was registered, and ‘Just So You Know’ hit the speakers.

But The Zone, didn’t leave alone.

The Freak hurled the limp body of Noah Hawkins over his shoulder… and carried him backstage.

Joe hadn’t said yes to it. But, he hadn’t said no either. Whatever the outcome, at least the hobos had fun.

The judges prepared themselves for the last act and what a beauty it is going to be. The sheet in front of TMM reads ‘Slutnutz the Singing Scotsman’. TMM calls on his team partner to enter the room. After taking a minute to compose himself, Slapnutz bounds into the room, looking dapper and stylish in a suit and tie combo. In fact, this may be the best Slapnutz has looked in his brief time in the Zone. Yes, the bruises and scars he has accumulated aren’t the best accessory to the suit, but, if you were female…and blind…and desperate, you wouldn’t hesitate to take a length from the Scotsman.

“Okay Slutnutz, verse and chorus please and I’m sure you’ll be fine,” TMM says.
Slapnutz warms up his vocal chords and prepares himself to sing:

Ridin’ along in my automobile
Ma’ baby beside at the wheel
Stole a kiss at the turn of a mile
Ma’ curiosity runnin’ wild
Cruisin’ an’ playin’ the radio
With no particular place to go

And by the end of those six lines, TMM was pleading for Slapnutz to stop. It wasn’t that he was really bad, he just didn’t seem to have the concept of hitting the right notes at the right times. The right notes WERE there. They just weren’t in the right place.

“Okay, okay, you’re in the final, just please stop singing. Please, for the sake of these drunk gypos.”

Slapnutz is stopped just as he is about to launch into a verse of the song. He looks right at TMM with a broad smile on his face. He celebrates with himself and heads out of the room and back to his locker room.

“What a choice, isn’t it gypos? We have the Cheeky Guys or Slutnutz to choose from. We do realise who has to win, don’t you? No matter how much neither of them deserves to win, it must be done. Now all we need is for Camp Joebell to agree to promote the winner,” TMM says to the two, now unconscious gypos.

Pop Idol? Bah! Asylum Idle is where the true stars are found.

Perhaps he had new fighting attire for her? Maybe the personal assistant that gives massages? The big buff guys with the bowtie that she always wanted. Or maybe even awarding the Women’s Title to her because she so rightfully deserved it.

Whatever it was, she knew Joe had something BIG planned for her. It even said so in the note:

Dear Venoma,
To my future greatest star…something in locker room 128 is awaiting you.

Yours truly,
Joe Campbell

Venoma shivered with anticipation as she opened up the locker room door.

The lights were on as she stepped in. She looked around and saw nothing but an empty locker room. “Joe?” she said aloud.

No answer.

Venoma wandered around until she saw steam, creeping from the shower room. “Joe? You in there?” She paced herself towards the room, with the noise of hot water dripping rapidly from one of the stalls. With curiosity she peeked in.

A woman could be seen showering. It was hard to see who it really was because the stem was high up, covering up much visibility besides her figure with creamy tanned skin and long black hair. The arena’s attendance could be heard cheering as she cleaned herself without knowing she was being filmed. Venoma shook her head and backed up slowly-

Knocking something over behind her, with her foot.

Venoma looked down and saw a metal can used probably in some sport for a team. Her heart froze as she saw the figure quickly turn around. From a scream, the woman turned it into a low growl.

Venoma backed up slowly and the naked woman ran at her, screaming with a flying heel kick that caught Venoma, even though she tried to dodge. Venoma looked up and rubbed her face in disbelief of her own bad luck.

“Lotus?” Venoma said. A loud cheer from the crowd as the cameraman caught Lotus in all her wet-nakedness.

Lotus growled. “You fucking dyke! You dare peep on me?” Lotus picked up Venoma and threw her head first into the shower, sliding on the wet floor.

More cheers as Venoma kicked back, catching Lotus in the gut then uppercutting Lotus into the shower head. The cheer wasn’t for the move, but for Venoma’s great choice of wearing a tight white tank top that night.

I believe the medical term was, Nipple-itis

Lotus grabbed her eye and turned on another stall, the hot water creating a bit more steam.

With a screeching scream, Lotus attacked first, running at Venoma with various wing chun punches that Venoma tried to dodge and block. Eventually Lotus snuck in a quick kick into Venoma’s knee, collapsing it, than grabbed Venoma’s shirt from behind her and pulled it over, jerseying her than kicking her across the face.

Venoma fell sideways, topless with the arena on their feet chanting for more.

Cue:

“Hey, did someone call for a piz- whoops!”

Who was it?

No one fucking knew.

The only thing anyone did know was that the woman was holding a pizza and was very attractive. Giant breast with blonde hair and a figure that resembled an 8 with a very plump top and bottom half.

Behold the key to all ratings: a naked unknown woman.

What even better? Three.

Lotus, in all her rage, grabbed the woman and flipped her screaming inside the shower. She walked around, turning more and more showers on. The hot water rising more steam. Lotus ripped off the woman’s top and threw her into the wall, than into Venoma who kicked her in the gut than flipped her, kicking her legs backwards, outside the room (again naked of course).

Venoma and Lotus locked eyes once again and were about to resume their battle but someone stood at the door, looking in with a confused face. She said nothing, yet her expression revealed everything.

Something wasn’t right. Four women now, one who doesn’t have an inch of fighting ability in her. Just a normal pizza girl.

Of course they would of caught that on if Lotus wasn’t seeing red everywhere. She had flashbacks of last year, with Jessica Jenkins and Akha and their prompt sneak attack.

Venoma went after Lotus, Lotus went after Tapestry, and Tapestry dodged the fist that Lotus flew in confusion.

Venoma tackled Lotus from the side and rammed her into the wall. Lotus clenched both her fist down on the bare back of Venoma than lifted her up and slammed her into the ground.

That stunned her briefly as Tapestry slowly was beginning to back away. Lotus stood up and concentrated her eyes on Tapestry, water streaming down her face. She flicked her hair back and Tapestry backed up and continued to block and dodge punches, than throwing some of her own.

Lotus punched, Tapestry blocked. Lotus reached, Tapestry dodged. Lotus GRABBED, Tapestry squirmed. Lotus pulled back, Tapestry went flying into the Shower room with her shirt ripped off.

More cheering.

Lotus ran at her but Venoma tripped her while Venoma was playing dead. Lotus fell face first into the tiles and Venoma quickly jumped, kicking Lotus repeatedly in the side of the head until blood began to run down the drain and mix with the water. Venoma breathed deeply, she was getting lightheaded.

A roar.

Tapestry was bleeding from the nose. She looked at Venoma and the two got in a scuffle that included rolling around and throwing punches while Tapestry locked her legs around Venoma. Tapestry got the slight weight advantage and began unleashing a fury of closed-fisted punches that dropped the consciousness of Venoma Star.

Tapestry stood up. Lotus planted her feet…than slid…

BLOSSOM.

Lotus nearly slipped as she landed on her feet but the two-combo kick connected, knocking Tapestry flat on her face.

Venoma was slowly getting to her feet and Lotus planted again.

Venoma stood up.

BLOSSOM!

No. Wait. Venoma blocked her kick and grabbed Lotus’ face, kneeing her repeatedly until Lotus fell to the ground. Venoma smirked as she had Lotus’ face between her hands. She clenched her fist tightly and pulled back ready for a knockout punch.

VAGINAL CLAW!

Venoma screamed in pain as Lotus planted it in tightly, twisting and pulling. It was like watching a horrible German porn as Venoma stood helpless with Lotus attempting to put her entire hand up her vagina.

Lotus pushed off.

And did something Sharon Lee could never do. She planted her feet in the wet ground and jumped off without a running momentum-

Double Touch.

Venoma flew backwards and was knocked out for good. Lotus rubbed her face and left them drowning in their own blood and water.

“Tradition…

Murders…

and porn.”

The crowd cheers.

“What I do for you wankers,” Joe chuckled. He popped out the tape from the VCR and grabbed a pen.

Labeling it:

Shocking Shower 2003

Only in the Asylum, folks.

Only in the Asylum.

Miles Blunder© Vs the Inmate
(U.K. Title)

He was Miles Blunder... and as he walked through the hallway, his theme song began. He was told by Joe Campbell over the phone that he would have to face a “small” opponent in his first show as the UK Champion... and though Miles’ nerves could’ve kicked in by now... they surprisingly didn’t. For he had sat there, received the call... and just smiled.

It would have to be a “small” opponent. No one looked highly upon one week Title reigns.
Even if it was Miles Blunder.

Thus ‘The Germ Gestapo’ walked down the ramp, with the Title around his waist and a cocky grin upon his lips. It was a different Miles Blunder...

Well, at least for now.

and I'm a black rainbow
and I'm an ape of god
I got a face that's made for violence upon
and I'm a teen distortion
survived abortion
a rebel from the waist down
-Marilyn Manson

The Inmate walked through the curtain.

Surprising to the fans of Asylum, the new theme music wasn’t the only thing that was to come tonight as it wasn’t the Inmate they remember.

A new year. A different Inmate.

With bleached white hair that had an orange strip running from front to back on one side of his head, and a black ‘A’ shirt on, he had his way to the cage with focus.

He didn’t know who he’d be fighting tonight, but Joe told him it would be something worth his neck troubles. “A gift...” Joe had said smiling...

But then as “Disposable Teens” had faded away, the Inmate entered the steel cage.

He couldn’t believe it.

And neither could Miles Blunder, for he was facing a former Asylum Champion...

‘The Germ Gestapo’ tried to run out of the cage right then and there... to leave and just forget about the contest. And he would’ve made it, too, but just before Blunder was able to hop over the top of the barricade, the bell sounded. For now, there came a price. If he was to jump over the top of the Asylum’s cage... he’d lose his Title.

His brand new Title.

And as he remembered... one week reigns were never held in high regard.

Inmate rushed forward.

Clubbing MB in the side of the head.

Tyler smiled... looking down at his opponent... who quivered like a ball of damaged nerves.

However, what he didn’t know was that Miles Blunder had dug into his pocket... and pulled out his miniature Windex bottle.

Blunder shot to his feet, and was actually able to duck the clothesline attempt...

That’s when he did it.

He sprayed the Referee.

And sprinted through the cage door... out of the ring, and all the way up the ramp, even forgetting his Championship Title Belt on the time keeper’s table.

Inmate couldn’t believe it. Miles Blunder had gotten away. Joe’s ‘gift’ evaded Tyler like rain going through paper.

As the new Inmate stood there, he become just as disappointed as he did pissed off.

Chino Hernandez came into view. The 370-pounder was topless after taking the straps from his fighting jumpsuit down, and he was very tired as well after chasing Los Toros after watching them streak.

Behind them came their manager and lawyer, Frank Allen Greenberg (F.A.G).

“YOU IDIOTS!” Frank screamed before feebly attempting to kick over the Gatorade keg, but failing miserably as the keg only moves a few inches, nowhere near falling off.

“What? They were naked, Frank! That was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I could have had that ass,” Jamal began angrily back at his manager. “And besides, I didn’t know you could lose by leaving the cage. I’m sowwy.”

“Yea’ man, it’s true. Wit’ dose’ big ol’ men and their booty’s just running ‘round the arena. It was a crime not to try and get some,” Chino added in.

Frank sighed heavily. His team had come close to defeating the Asylum Team Champions in their very first match, despite the fact that it was a non title match, a victory over the champs would force the fans and other fighters to notice that Jamal Wilson and Chino Hernandez were serious competitors in the ring.

“You know what? I got an idea on how we can get back at those idiots who cost us the match…” Frank began as we left the scene.

Drip, drip, drip… that was the only thing that he could concentrate on. He felt the abrasive, rough texture against his wrists, rubbing and stinging his skin… probably rope. His ankles were bound too. He felt smooth curves between his shoulder blades and smelt polish… he was sitting on a wooden chair.

“Noah.”

Noah knew the voice. Rough, raspy, harsh… the kind of voice that the old man that lives down the street on his own, and tells you that you ‘can’t have your ball back’ has. How many people has this voice frightened?

Noah tried to scream out at his hidden abuser but he couldn’t muster it. His throat was aching and whatever substance was covering his mouth was impregnable by way of sound. His scars were aching too… but they were cold and soothing at the same time. He thought that he was bleeding again.

“Noah, do you know where you are?”

Knowing that he had no choice but to co-operate, Noah shook his head exaggeratedly. He could hear the footsteps of those heavy boots as they slapped down around him, pacing around him casually and slowly. The footsteps of The Freak.

“Well, now you are familiar with what it’s like to be me. You must appreciate that I do not know where I am either. I can’t see, I can’t perceive the world around me, it’s almost… insubstantial. I feel like I shouldn’t be here. I feel like my system is running a program five hundred years more sophisticated than everyone else’s is. And I can’t express it. I can’t explicate my contempt for this world, it’s like being a mute… No. no, it’s worse. Because I can verbalize yet I cannot communicate…

“You don’t understand, do you?”

Noah shook his head again.

“Do you see, that you never will understand? People will read books regarding me five hundred years from now and venerate me as one would herald Socrates, but in my lifetime, I’ll accomplish… nothing. When I was young…” The Freak laid a gloved hand to rest on Noah’s forehead. “Like you, I always thought that I’d be so successful and praised, that I’d achieve so much. But now that I’m old and weary, I realize that all that I have accomplished… is murder, and pain, and suffering…”

Noah hated the feeling of The Freak’s palm against his forehead. Not because it was painful or uncomfortable, quite the opposite. It was like a father’s touch. That’s why he hated it. He didn’t want to feel comforted by one as obviously mentally ill as The Freak.

The Freak’s breath grew closer of Noah’s ear.

He whispered.

“Noah… Stop your quest for knowledge of me right here, for you shall find nothing.”

The duct tape was torn from Noah’s eyelids in one sharp tug, the dim light from a single bulb stinging his eyes. Noah tried to turn his head, only to realize that it was being held in place by something. Noah’s eyes slowly began to focus as he heard The Freak leave behind him, muttering…

“Allez Dormir, Noah.”

Noah’s eyes focused, and in front of him, he saw… a picture.

A picture so… morbid…

That if Noah could have screamed, if duct tape was not burning Noah’s lips shut, he would have woken the dead.

However, a man that hadn’t been seen in some time upon the Asylum television happened to be walking behind LLB the entire way there, since he turned from his own locker room door.

That man:

Eddie Cheno.

Cheno just followed ‘The Law’, as the lawyer finally reached the exit doors and pushed back the handle... only to pick up someone breathing behind him.

He turned.

And there Eddie stood... not saying a word... not even looking him in the eyes. He just did what so many others would do when interested in something.

He stared at the TV Championship Belt.

LLB squinted his eyes and moved forward, trying to see if he could catch Cheno’s attention... but all proved to be wrong, as Cheno just kept his eyes glued to the Belt which was on LLB’s right shoulder.

“Yeah. I get it.” LLB nodded, as he turned around a final time, and exited into the nighttime winds. “You’ll get your chance soon enough, too.”

But as the TV Champion fled the scene, Eddie didn’t smile at the remark... nor did he change emotion. He just watched the back of LLB, seeing the tale of the TV strap flip into the wind as the lawyer walked on.

Villam it seems that this time the odds are certainly against you. I'm thinking that you should probably start saying your prayers before going to face the music, right?" Westwood said with cheeky grin.

"Fuck you, Mikey. But, you know what? I'm not going to pummel your fucking face in for that comment. Because this time it does look to be the end of the Great God of Fight, Villam Ender. But, before I go out there to face this so-called 'Music' let me remind the people of who I am facing and let them decide if my time is up.

Dezzy Calgon.

Isn't this queer in a The Cure cover band? This guy looks EXACTLY like Robert fucking Smith. Joe sees this, gets nostalgic for his days as a high school goth-fag and hires him on as an 'enforcer'. Enforcer this-"

Middle Finger.

"Motherfucker. The day I start fearing goth-fags is the day the sky falls on the planet earth, declares itself a sentient being and begins raping little girls in the ass.

Speaking of Goth-fags...there's, De'roid.

Wow. He beat Nerva. Other than kicking the shit into some weak chink-bitch what else has Devoid done?

Nothing

Nothing, but provide wet-naps for the annual Team Campbell circle jerk. I can still see the chunks of shit in his beard from him licking Campbell's ass. Snip those turds out of your facial hair and maybe...maybe...I'll conside you a worthy opponent.

The Inmate is a fucking faggot. He lost the Asylum Championship to Exxa and helped the full decline of Asylum Fighting television. I don't even need to go into detail. He's yesterdays news and I'm treating him as such.

Alright, so we cancel out Joe Campbell's 3 head fags and who do we have left?

The Zone.

These losers are lucky that I even utter their pathetic group's name. These guys are about as useless as the Radicalz and 18 times more fucking retarded. Their entire existence is chalked up to Joe Campbell's desperation. And if you fall for Joe's desperate act so easily, then you must be quite the desperate fucks yourselves.

Let's face it. You guys are talent less. What we in the fighting industry call: Bums.

The Fighting Zone sucked and I highly doubt it was just because of some owner that couldn't speak english. The guy was so fucking dumb that when you asked him about grammar he said:

"Sorry, I don't watch Fraiser."

Shitty fighters jump ship to the Asylum and all of sudden the place isn't closed anymore? That leads me to the conclusion that you guys were stickin' the fuckin' place up. You sucked so much that the owner of the promotion just threw his hands up and said: "Fuck it."

We're supposed to be grateful to you? You guys called yourselves 'taking care of Stranglehold' when I had already put a knife in the heart of the problem.

We're supposed to afraid of you? Who am I supposed to feel threatened by first? The Scottish Wigger who's dressed like L.L fucking Cool J circa 1987? I'mean what the fuck were you thinking?

Hm, I like 80's style rap music...but I also like Double J - Jeff Jarret...I KNOW! I'll combine both!

Ha. Welcome to the Asylum Professor Fucklestien.

Or how about the Toothless Ogre boy with clumps of feces stuck in his gums and hair?

Jesus Christ, son it looks like someone hit you in the face with a hot ass meat patty. Take your ugly ass back to the circus.

There's others in that group. I don't know their names and they really aren't worth mentioning..."

Mike broke in..."Uh, what about your opponent tonight? The...Freak?"

"Oh, yeah that's right. The Fuck, is more like. Who picked your fighting name, kid? Mean Gene Oakerland? Jim Ross? I looked over your biography...and...

...are you sure you're in the right place?

Your move list is littered with DDTs and "Slams". Maybe you shouldn't be facing me, maybe you should be taking on Erik Kelly or someone. And if you're trying to make a tape to send to fWo, the last person you want to face is me. Unless fWo is short on guys who can take having their head shoved through a steelchair.

"Most violent man alive?"

It's good you decided to simply be 'violent'. Call me an over-achiever...but a long time ago I decided I would be the deadliest man alive and I think I've redefined violence in the process.

That's the difference between you and I, oh mighty leader.

You try and take a label and some moves and some words on a biography and be defined by them.

I define those fucking labels.

Which is why I'm better than you.

Because beating me isn't a matter of being better than me. It's a matter of being more man than I am. And even without a cock...I stand head and fucking balls above any of my detractors. But, who can blame you for thinking otherwise?

Divided by your stupidity, United by my phantom dick in your mouth.

See you in the cage, Brian."

Villam Ender© Vs The Freak
(Asylum Championship)

That could only mean that the beginning of the end of Villam Ender would soon start. And it starts with this man, leader of the Zone.

The Freak

The Freak garnered a positive reaction as he confidently made his way to cage. The people frankly elated that someone was going to put Villam out of the Asylum for good. The Freak wasn't even thinking about that...he just thought about the Asylum Championship. Something Joe assured him would be good as his tonight. The Zone's reward for pulling Asylum's ass out of the fire.

The Freak considered his strategy as he jumped into the cage...

"Smack my Bitch up" by Prodigy.

...and out came Team Campbell. Each man wielding sledgehammers like flaming torches for Frankenstein. Working like a tight and organized unit they en-circled the ring. Joe rubbed his hands together as he too was handed a sledgehammer from Dez Aragon. Everyone was accounted for except for the injured Inmate.

Everything looked set.

Oh, yeah...forgot.

*dernnundundundunnuhnuh-dundun-durndun

Fuck this road
Well, fuck you too
I'll fuckin kill your best friend

What you fuckin gonna do? (Here I come!)

Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot

POW!

Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot

POOOOWWWWWW!!!

Villam Ender.

Bombarded by booing Villam tore down the ramp in quick stroll and climb the steel steps wary of Hammer-Equipped Team Campbell who circled the outside of the Asylum like sharks on the hunt.

But, it wasn't the sharks on the outside Villam should have been worried about...

WHAM!

...it was the shark inside the cage. Because as Villam climbed over the wire mesh he was met with a Yakuza Kick dead in the face that nearly sent Villam out of the Asylum. Frothing at the mouth with rage, The Freak grabbed Villam by the head and dragged him into the Asylum. Stomping away at whatever wasn't covered.

Villam tried to get to feet, but feel victim to boots to the back of head. Pulling the eunuch to his feet, The Freak tore the iron tin mask off of Villam's face and drove a forearm into the left temple of the Asylum Champion and winded back...

-crack-

Nailing Villam with punch directly in the jaw. Instant follow up with several uppercuts to the body and ribs. Grabbing both sides of Villam's face The Freak bore down on the bridge of Villam's nose with a head butt.

Knee to solar plexus.

DDT.

"Now the fun begins." Freak said.

And with that he put the boots to Villam's left shoulder.

Elbow Drop, Figure Four Reverse Armbar.

Villam was locked in tight around Freak's legs, but he wasn't tapping out.

Holding onto Villam's arm he hopped to his feet and twisted Villam's arm into a standing reverse armbar.

CRUNCH~!

Another Elbow Drop.

Back into the reverse armbar.

Things did not look good for Villam Ender.

And as Freak pulled Villam to his feet and hook him around the neck for another DDT, things started to look worse.

Falling back Villam's head when smashing into the canvas. Freak held on, got to his feet and slammed the Asylum Champion's head into the canvas yet again.

Wha?

Crippler Crossface~!

Freak locked Villam in his own step brother's hold - The Exxa Deathlock.

Instant mark out for everyone in attendance!

And unfortunately for The Freak...

...Instant pissed off for Villam Ender.

With a rageful cry he pushed up with his legs and right arm and powered straight through the hold.

The Freak tried to force Villam back to ground...but caught a two-finger scratch in the eye.

Freak stumbled back as Villam got to his feet and caught Freak with another two fingers in the other eye.

Slamming two hard rights into Freak's cheekbone, Villam follow up with a left, then another right. Freak stumbled back...Villam cocked his leg back for a sidekick...

Freak ducks.

The kick never comes. Villam fakes right and bears down on the top of Freak's head with an overhead left. Villam quickly grabs Freak's head and buries it into one of his knees.

CRUNCH

Again.

CRUNCH

And again.

CRUNCH

Again...But, holds it. And slams a spare elbow into the back of Freak's neck. Villam pulls Freak to his feet, grabs one his arms and sends Freak crashing to the mat with a hiptoss.

Villam hold onto the arm, twists it putting Freak face first to the canvas and like it wasn't big deal....Villam stomps down hard on the back of Freak's head several times. The crowd 'oohh'ing with sympathy every time a boot came crashing down.

Villam released Freak and put some boots to his rib, before - quite deliberately - standing on his back. Villam hopped into the air and came crashing down with a knee in the Freak's spine. And if that weren't enough Villam held his knee in and with both hands grabbed Freak in a reverse choke. Then...he pulled back...

...hard.

"Say it! Say it!" Villam screamed. Freak struggled to get out the words:

"I....won't....quit."

Villam stopped.

SMACK~!

Slap to the back of the head.

"Who said anything about quitting, huh?"

SMACK~!

Another.

"Admit it! Admit you're a wrestler~!"

SMACK~!

BOOOOOOOOOoooo!

"SHADDAP~!" Villam said to the screaming fans. And that was all the distraction The Freak needed.

Still under Villam, Freak rolled onto his back and fired a couple of quick punches upwards into Villam's jaw. Villam reared back for his own punch, but was stopped by The Zone leader's thumb in his Adam’s apple.

A gouge to the face and a punch in the neck later...The Freak was up on his feet.

Villam was struggling to get to his...but was quick put down by a kick in the face. The Freak rained punches down upon Villam's head as he pulled him to his feet.

Pulling him to standing, The Freak lifted Villam up into a Hangman's backbreaker and immediately hooked the arms.

The Sickening

Villam was in obvious pain but showed no signs of tapping. Which was fine...

Because The Freak wasn't looking for a submission.

With a heave The Freak dropped Villam onto the rim of the Asylum stomach first. Feet dangling out of the cage, Slapnutz and Tapestry jumped up and dragged him down to the outside.

Villam landed on his feet, but immediately caught a sledgehammer to the back of knee thanks to Tapestry. And in one fluid motion Slapnutz was on the Asylum Champion choking him with the handle of the Sledgehammer while Tapestry and TMM put the boots to Villam's exposed ribs.

Slapnutz then dropped his Sledgehammer and picked up Villam. Lifted him up onto his shoulders...

...and set him up for a Tombstone Piledriver?

No.

Instead he charged the nearby post and sent Villam's damaged shoulder into the pole with a loud thunk.

Hoisting Villam up onto his shoulders again...Slapnutz climbed the steel steps and tossed Villam back into the ring. The Freak nodded to his stable mate with a 'thank you', grabbed the back of Villam's head and shoulder...

...and dragged him all the way to the other side of cage throwing him out of the Asylum and to the wolves. Villam hit the floor with a thud and the wolves - John C. Willis, Devoid and Keegan Carrahar...circled him like sharks...

Willis, Devoid and Keegan.

Looks like the end.

BYE, VILLAM~!

Willis approached him first...pulling him to his feet......

*psssssffffttttt~~

"AHHHHHH" Willis staggered back grabbing his face and rubbing his eyes.. Villam slowly got to his feet as Keegan swung his hammer from behind....

Ducked.

Villam turned around.

*psssssffffttttt~~

"IT BURNS" Keegan cried as he too staggered back...Devoid charged in...*psssssfffftttt~~....

All three men were staggering about and rubbing their faces as the crowd boo'd. Villam smiled at the can of mace and tossed it into the crowd.

Boot

Boot to Keegan's cock.

*Grab*

Ah, the return of the sound of grab.

Villam stole Keegan's sledgehammer, butted him in the face with it and kicked Keegan dead in the chest sending him to the ground. Villam turned with anger in his eyes and charged Devoid, jabbing the right between his eyes. The crowd was one their feet not in hate or in love of Villam's actions. Just flat out excited that he was mounting a comeback...

Villam raised the sledgehammer to sky.

...and got pelted with paper cup.

It was Ender the Almighty wielding maniac all over again.

Cut back to John C. Willis raving like a lunatic swinging at anything that made a sound. Joe tried to console him...

*Punch*

That takes care of Joe.

Villam in the meantime slid behind the out of control Willis and planted a forearm right between Willis's balls sending him to the floor gasping for air. Dez Aragon charged from the other side and at the last second Villam turned the Hammer around like a spear and chucked it at Dez.

A blatant over throw and miss but it was all Villam needed to climb the steel steps and escape back into the cage.

Or not.

Because The Freak was waiting...

Steelchair in hand.

He swung......

Grazed Villam's jaw but he held onto the rim of the Asylum.

Ducked the next swing...

SPEAR~!

From outside to inside the cage.

LLB would be proud. ;)

Or he'd be laughing his ass off.

Because the only thing Villam speared was steelchair that Freak kept bundled to his chest in defense.

The Freak laughed and swatted at Villam with the steel chair several times while he scurried away...Villam practically ran to the other side of the Asylum and got to his feet...turned around....

SM-PANG~!

...The mask.

Villam scurried over there especially for his little tin-face plate. The Freak swung again in raw anger and Villam ducked. Then, Using his arms as support, he use one leg to hook The Freak's right ankle with a foot. Then with the other leg he kicked into the same leg causing the Freak to topple over on that one leg.

Hell topples Heaven

The crowd was on their feet at Villam dove for the steel chair. The Freak got to feet and dove after him, tackling the eunuch to the ground. Freak desperately tried to drag
Villam away from the dented piece of steel...but Villam rolled over onto his back and kick outwards at Freak's face hitting him dead in the nose.

Villam got to his feet.

Freak got to his feet.

Freak charged Villam.

Villam turned around a split second later...

...charged Freak...

Dived.

CRACK~!

A flying chairshot right in Freak's face.

Raw, Dirty and drawing blood.

One smooth motion.

CLUNG~! CLUNG~! CLUNG~!

Chair on mask and The Bell tolls.

And with that Villam goes Ballistic on The Freak nailing him with more than the usual six chairshots.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Villam throws the chair to the canvas in exhaustion and drops to one knee as the ref counts...

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

.

.

.

.

9.

The Freak is up!

The crowd goes nuts and Villam shakes his head in disbelief.

He knows what he must do.

Picking up the dented and beaten Steelchair Villam turns his back to The Freak...kneeling down with the chair touching the floor. Villam then spins toward the Freak with chair in hand nailing him across the face with the edge part of the Steel chair!!

Life Muted In Utero

Villam wasn't done there was he set the chair on the canvas with purpose and pulled The Freak to his feet...lifting him up into a bearhug...

Could he be?

Then Villam locks his arms around The Freak's legs. Releases one of the legs he uses his now-free arm to hook Freak's head in a front-facelock...and with a scream the Asylum Champion planted Freak's head into the steelchair with a cradled DDT!!!

ANTI-NATURE ONTO A CHAIR!

The 10 was made and Villam was quickly handed the Asylum title as he fell to his knees. The weight of the entire match on his shoulders.

Villam won.

Villam defied the odds.

And he couldn't hear.

"NO NO NO" Screamed Joe Campbell over Villam's theme blaring the PA and the excited noise of the shocked Asylum fans. "That's it! Circle the bloody FUCKING cage! Destroy him!

Don't let him out alive!"

And as sure as fuck, those that were capable of getting up started approached the cage sledgehammers in hand.

TMM.

Dez Aragon.

Slapnutz.

Tapestry.

Joe Campbell joined the fray...quickly followed by a fully recovered Devoid and John C. Willis...

Keegan approached the other side...

They were all in the cage...approaching Villam from behind...and Villam was too caught up in his own injuries to notice.

Willis raised his sledgehammer first.

Swung down.....

behind you

Villam turned around and quick dove to the left-

D'CLANG! The sledgehammer smashed into the rim of the Asylum. Safe? No. The others were soon approaching...

Dez coldly raised his sledgehammer...

then

-Darkness.

The Lights were out...The Asylumtron blinked Blood, Green, Gray, then Red.

Music slowly started to filter in and out...

...was it...?

"Climbatize" by Prodigy

All Team Campbell turned to greet whomever was coming down that ramp using Exxa Decimal's old theme...but no one came...instead the Asylum exploded with light! Fire was all that could be seen. It wasn't the Asylumtron itself...but instead it was the first time Exxa stepped foot in the Asylum. His visage showed up and the surrounding crowd went nuts....

"Cower in fear sinners! For there will absolutely be no salvation from the baptismal flames of justice!"

"Bah!" Joe exclaimed. "It's a fucking trick!" and with that they turned back around to greet Villam with death...

But Villam was long gone. Alright cutting through the angry Asylum fans who pelted him with fists, kicks and cups.

"Gah-NO! After him!!"

BOOM!

Pyros exploded.

"Nevermind that! After him!" Joe said. "KILL HIM!"

"Thanks."

"No Problem" she said. "I had that stuff laying around anyway."

I laughed. "You had Exxa's old theme song and some spare pyros laying around?"

She stopped for second.

"What?"

"The...*cough*....ugh. The pyros. The Prodigy song blaring over the speakers...not...

*cough*...not you?"

"No. I thought...I thought it was Inmate or Devoid or somebody."

That would've made sense. But, for some reason I doubt Inmate would be crafty enough to pull of something like that. And Devoid...well...Devoid wouldn't care enough to do something like that.

"Nevermind." I said. "Just get me to my car. I gotta get to a hospital. My ribs feel funny."

"Alright."

We arrived at my car and she propped me up against the driver's side door. Handing me my keys she said. "Listen, you'll understand if I can't drive you. If I'm caught-"

"It's fine. You've done enough."

"Alright."

*kiss*

It was on my cheek and it left an imprint that I felt for the rest of night. I looked at her..."What was that for?"

"What was it for? Nothing. Just-...be careful. Joe had every intention of crippling you tonight. I'm..."

"Say no more." I blurted. I couldn't bear it if she told me that she was 'concerned'.

"Alright, I'm off. Be safe."

And off she went.

I started the car up.

Fucking thing wouldn't start.

*chichcich...Vooom.

Ah, there we go. Now just-

I turned my head to the passenger side...

"AHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhh"

My scream echoed throughout the car. My heart froze and stopped like a frozen clock. Hands started to shake...

"FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK!" I yelled.

The person next to me just shook his head.

"That's no way to greet someone who provided such a miracle for you. Least of all a way to greet a brother."

"Wha...wha...." Was I going insane?

"No. You're not going insane. But you'd better drive if you want to stay alive."

I looked past him and Joe along with all of Team Campbell came plodding up the hall.

I put the pedal to the gas and got the hell out of there.

Joe Campbell yelling his curses behind me.