Money wins wars.

"Look Pete, I know you don’t mind staying but I gotta insist you go back to the hotel. I just don’t want you at the arena in case one of those 21w fucks try something again... You’ve gotta be ready for Immortals. I can’t have this plan getting screwed up. It’s too important..."

It was Joe Campbell, and like usual, he sounded desperate and nervous. "Come on Pete. I can’t have them getting to you before Immortals."

Tyler Burton nodded in agreement, pulling his car keys from his pocket, he turned and pace away toward the lot.

But before he could, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Now before you go Pete, I'm going to do something that I don't do very often...

I'm going to thank you.

I'm thanking you for the service you've given me over these past two years, without you by my side... none of what is about to occur would be possible, you've never once doubted or questioned me, whether it be me sending you to attack wrestling promotions, or even in helping me get rid of Sean..."

"Pleasure was all mine, I never fuckin' liked Williams anyway." Tyler grunted with a smirk.

"I know, I know... but without you I could never have been rid of him, to let him think that he had a psychological edge over you was a masterstroke, we let him think he was calling the shots... when it was all down to us." Joe said, following up with not an ignorant smile, but a nervous one... he knew full well that while his plan with the Inmate had worked to an extent, it had failed miserably in other areas.

"Yeah, guess we've seen the last of him." Tyler replied.

"Err... yeah, I guess." Joe replied trying to mask uncertaintly "But anyway, before you go Pete... look me in the eye, look me in the eye and tell me that you understand what we're doing at Immortals, you know exactly what's going down and who's involved..."

the Inmate slid his shades down and glared at Joe with his piercing eyes.

"I understand... those fucks won't even know what hit them." Tyler responded with another smirk, Joe smiled to himself and turned away.

"Oh yes, I'm glad to hear it Pete..." Joe continued "And just think, in just five days time, we'll be sitting at a bar, the four of us... celebrating our victory, celebrating 21wrestling's downfall... you... I... and..."

Joe turned to deliver the final words of his gloat, but the Champion was gone again. Just like his theme song implied.

His only companion was a heart shaped letter resting next to him. The pink traced letters were followed by smiley faces and worthless pictures. Eddie hadn’t even bothered to read it, he had gotten many like them this week. He turned away from the letter since it even troubled him to look at it.

“JETT!”

For a few moments, Eddie Cheno had actually believed that she was back. She was the same way he had met her, and walking towards him with a grin. Like her whole death hadn’t even hurt her at all, she was grinning.

This couldn’t be real, could it?

”Eddie.” Jett said softly as she came even closer.

It didn’t seem like his could be real. His mind didn’t play tricks on him. This was her in the flesh. He leapt from his seat and mindlessly walked toward her. It didn’t matter how she was here, it just mattered that she was here.

Everything he went through this month didn’t mean anything. In this split second everything was all right, he held her close and stared down happy to see her again.

”Jett…”

There was a moment of silence. Jett’s smile broke to confusion.

“Eddie, I called you five minutes ago.” Nicole Carson said.

He clambered up into the Asylum and paced around for a couple of seconds.

"No pyro, no flashing lights... no music, no shit... I'm tired of the fucking propaganda and bollocks that goes on around this place, every week I come out and cut a flashy promo about this and this... but you know what? This week I can't be arsed... this week might well be the last ever Asylum show... you know why?

Because if 21wrestling beats us at Immortals, I'm going to kill myself.

You think its funny, but I'm not even kidding.

Such is the extent of my hatred for that decaying shite hole, its overpaid staff members and its homosexual owner... that if I can't put together an army that can tear it down... life isn't worth fucking living... if I can't do that, I can't do shit... I might as well walk under the next scheduled Bus." Joe fired out, the crowd not sure what to make of his rushed words.

"So I'm going to make my couple of messages this week very simple, not going to dress them up with any poetic bollocks... just going to tell it like it is." Joe went on.

"First of all, this fucking town is a total shitehole... it'll be good to be back in sunny England breathing air that hasn't been poisoned by stupid people." Joe said with a grin, some people booed... but some cheered, that was the story of Joe's life... you either liked him or you didn't.

"With that said, a quick message to Mr. Knight... although I should really think you like to be called Mr. Queen, regardless mate... you have four fucking days to back out, for days to take those fake plastic testicles... put them back in your handbag and fuck off home before you get hurt, I'm going to take you out Knight... 21wrestling is going down... and this time if I can't flush it... I'll use my fucking bare hands.

You see I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty... I'll do whatever it takes to see the last of you, fucker... if I have to fucking take every last one of yoo down by myself, then I will." Joe sneered... the crowd warming to his words.

"So just remember Knight, I warned you... I didn't dance around the subject... I told you that I was going to fuck you up and you still turned up to the playground at home time, only there won't be anyone to pull us apart or wipe away your tears when all is said and done." Joe grunted once again, pacing around for a moment or two.

"With that said... its time to announce tonight's elimination matches..." Joe continued, once again checking his watch.

"First up, we'll see LLB versus Miles Blunder? Why? Well... a lazy twat such as myself need not explain himself... I simply found the concept of two people with the name Miles stuck somewhere in their title, fighting it out in a vicious war... somewhat hilarious, I was originally going to look for two fighters called Betty, but this was as close as I could get." Joe said, chuckling to himself.

"But it also gives lawyer boy a chance to prove himself, I hear good things about captain Action! He's supposed to be the champion over there, then again... I could probably stroll across and win that belt, so its no mean feat... but yeah, might be worth having someone with some legal advice on our team, especially after we murder all six of 21w's players." Joe went on with a chuckle.

"Then, in a twist of irony... Villam the Villan will be facing two of the Asylum's finest heroes... Mega Job, it'll be grate... right out of those Spiderbat comics... or whatever." Joe continued.

"And finally... in the last Iliad qualifier... we'll have..." Joe suddenly paused for a moment.

"... we'll have..."

The crowd started to stir.

"Eh... erm... hmm." Joe pondered, scratching his head.

"Good point, I don't know who we'll have... but you can bet yer arse it'll be well worth the wait..." Joe said, tossing the microphone to the ground and marching back up the aisle... he'd selected two of his matches... but the question which remained was...

... who would number three involve?

A distant shot of this week’s warehouse was seen - it was raining outside, deterring the public from hanging around outside. On the inside, Drake Kerrigan and Clayton Richler sat in their locker room - by locker room, I mean four temporary panel walls, a door, and furniture and the like inside. Both men seemed confident - at seVered, Pain and Suffering took the lead two-one in the best of five series, defeating Marc Baiden and Seth Kard in a barbed wire baseball bat match.

Drake Kerrigan sat on a stool, lacing his boots, while Clayton Richler sorted through his sports bag. After rummaging through the insides, he pulled out the prestigious 21w Tag Team Championship belt, before he sat it on the bench alongside him.

KNOCK-KNOCK!!

After the loud pounding at the door, the belt fell over, much to the disappointment of Richler. Kerrigan shot up, as he knew that it could only be one person, or persons at the door, and that’s Marc Baiden and Seth Kard, the current “holders” of the Asylum Tag Team Championships.

Drake signaled for Clayton to stay in his seat, before he opened the door, “What do you two want? We beat you fair and square at seVered, there’s no way you can deny that. You two were beaten at your own game! Now we lead the series two to one!”

Sure enough, Marc Baiden and Seth Kard looked into the room. Baiden laughed to himself, “Yeah, fine, you can have your little victory. We’re not going to dwell on something we can’t change, i.e., the past. What we will do, however, is look to the future. Tonight, we’re not going to have one of your little Asylum cage matches. No no, I made arrangements to have a 21w ring constructed out there, and in that 21w ring, tonight, we challenge you two to a little tag team submission match.”

Richler got to his feet, “A submission match?”

“Yeah,” Seth said, pushing Marc aside, “you know, the sort of match where the winner is the team that makes their opposition submit? DUH!!”

“Hey, I know what a submission match is, you jackass!” boasted Clayton.

“Then will you accept our challenge?” asked a confident Marc Baiden.

Kerrigan looked at Richler, before he responded, “Yes - submission match - tonight. But remember, if we win this match here, the series is over - we win three to one. It’s all over - we’re the better team. Just remember that when you go out there to that ring later on tonight.”

“Well, to be blatantly obvious here - you two have no chance, and I think even you Drake, and you Clayton know that. You may think you know what we’re all about, but tonight you’ll find out just who Marc Baiden is… when he is making you tap like the little bitch you are!” boomed Marc, echoing throughout the (at this time) desolate warehouse.

Seth looked at Marc, as he just heard his buddy steal his favorite phrase. Hesitant, but still wanting to sound like a badass, Kard turned to Pain and Suffering, “…Yeah…! Little bitches!”
SLAM!!

Drake slammed the door in the face of the Bullies, before he turned to his partner, “They seem pretty damn confident, eh?”

“Naive is more like it,” chipped in Richler, “but don’t worry, they won’t win this match - no fucking chance. Let’s just say, Marc Baiden’s game just won’t live up to the hype. We’ve got this easy, Drake.”

Kerrigan seemed doubtful for a moment, but it only took a few seconds for his confidence to return, “You’re right. The pressure of being down two-one will get to them. There’s no chance they’ll win this.”

"Bleedin' Christ..." he muttered. There was no way he could win with these people representing the whole. Ty Hughes, Hypnosis, the number one contender to the championship -- he was a fine choice, of course. He was good. He was tough. He'd bite and kick below the belt, if need be. But, when he looked next to him, he saw Ricky Wasp's sneering mug. Staring straight ahead, not looking at Hypnosis at all, most likely because the two would go at it without restraint if their eyes met.

And besides those two, he had Steve Christ. Alone, all were good, with the potential for greatness somewhere sooner or later down the line. But, Hughes, Wasp, Christ, all together... you had The Demon and the Brother of The Savior (in their respective heads) working together, with a guy who was called The Great White Hope.

Oh, this wasn't going to go well at all. Unless he struck absolute gold in the last trio of qualifying matches. Maybe platinum would be the better cliché to go by.

Joe stood up. "I've brought you three into this room for one moment, just to familiarize you with what's on the line."

He walked around his desk, and spun the tiny Asylum skull symbol around so it faced his current guests. The leering smile never stopped smiling, even through these past two weeks.
"Pride. That's what's on the line. Not your pride, no... well, yes. Fucking hell yes. Because my pride's been busted up these past few bloody weeks, and if you screw this up for me -- YOU'LL BE AN EMBARASSMENT TO EVERYONE! You won't even be getting backstage. If you fuck this up... screw this over for me... I'll make sure that you all are properly humiliated. Don't put it past me, you saw what I did to Nerva. Now that cunt's totally embarassed, and can't show her face. Lucky she has her little Providence to keep her from killing herself from the humiliation."

Joe looked down for a second, and his sneer at the thought of Providence made him oddly resemble Ricky Wasp for a moment.

He looked back up. "But, if you lose this... if you don't make the Asylum look like the top promotion, anywhere, anytime, you may want to kill yourself before the humiliation even begins. Joe Campbell does not take losing lightly. You should all know that, and when it comes to that weasel-wanker Mark Knight, I'm never going to take losing lightly. I don't care if you three hate each other -- or the other three that'll join your ranks before the night is over. This will be a unit, god damn it. You will fight alongside one another for the pride of twenty-four other people. And they will kick your ass if you fuck them over."

Joe took the Asylum skull -- the favorite object in his entire room -- and shoved it in front of each one of their faces. "Remember this face, gentlemen... because this will be the face that will be hanging over your bloody deathbed if you fail me."

He put the skull down. And walked behind the desk again, taking a breath. "Dismissed."

The three left the room, and Joe stared into the blank, greedy eyes of the Asylum's symbol.

"Bleedin' Christ..." he said. "... For once, I'm actually scared."

The corridor was empty besides her though, and she got that funny feeling in the back of her throat.

You know the feeling. It sort of tickles, and it makes your eyes want to water. It’s the feeling that you’re being watched.

She took faster steps now, quick to get to her locker room.

She stepped in and slammed the door behind her and turned the lock.

With a quick shudder, she took of her jacket and pulled her wrestling attire out of her gym bag. Tonight was a very important night...the grand finale between herself and Dawn Van Dammage. Gwen had to prepare.

Such a nice place to be. If the fans could come back here... well, it wouldn't be the backstage anymore, would it? Anyway, we came back here for a reason. Because of the Legion of Dairy to be exact. cHEESE and egg NOG were standing in front of the lockers and appeared to be taping something to the door.

"This'll work?" egg NOG asked as he handed a piece of tape to cHEESE.

cHEESE took the tape and stuck it across the top of the page. "Yeah, stuff like this always works."

"Hmmm." egg NOG said as he took a step back and looked at the paper. "Who knew it was so simple?"

"Certainly not you." cHEESE said as he had already started down the hall.

NOG nodded as he looked over the paper.

Standard Team Match
w/ Legion of Dairy.
X____________
X____________

He turned and followed cHEESE down the hall. As soon as he was out of sight, a slender figured walked up to the paper and signed on the dotted line. She smiled as she dotted the "i" and walked away. The camera turned back to the paper.

Standard Team Match
w/ Legion of Dairy.
XNicole_Carson
XEddie_Cheno

And the Show went on.

Gwen O'Reily Vs Dawn Van Dammage

Gwen O’Reilly.

“Good Rats” by The Dropkick Murphys started up. The fans cheered expecting to see Gwen step out from the back, but after about a minute...there was no Gwen.

The crowd talked amongst themselves while Dawn stood in the ring tapping her foot impatiently.

The song went all the way through, and Gwen had yet to appear.

**static**

The asylum’s asylum-tron flashed on revealing Gwen’s body sprawled out on the floor by the gorilla position.

She was unconscious...and she wouldn’t be participating in any match tonight.

The camera focused in on Dawn, and she couldn’t help but to let a slight smile form at the curl of her lips. The fans booed upon catching the quick smirk...and Dawn ignored them.

Her music started playing...

"Hi!" Eddie exclaims, before waving to a few fans in the front row that are dressed in King garb and each wearing a Burger King Crown. "I'm Eddie Scott Poser, and," he pauses, "Can I be serious for a moment?"

"No." Cameraman Mark replies in retort to his rhetorical question.

"Nuts to you." Poser takes in a deep breath. "Anyway, most of you people know me as the King of Poland from my LoW days." Mild cheers. " Even some of you remember, that on a bi-weekly basis, I would come out to the Asylum, make a few jokes, try to get a contract and be thrown out of the building and onto my ass to find yet another job to provide for my lovely wife and daughter."

"Eddie, you're a single bachlor." Cameraman Mark just shook his head as Eddie stood there confused.

"Quiet Mark." Poser let out a large smile before continuing. "For you see, I have been a gas jockey, a 7-11 Clerk, a blockbuster employee, and the head of Time Warner. There's nothing more degrading to a King than being a gas jockey, so I purposely got fired."

Mark stood there in shock and wide eyed, before cutting off the self-professed King. "You carried a gas pump around the building on your break and then lit up a cig because some eight year old told you it's cool! I still don't think the gas station's been rebuilt!"

"Would you LET me finish?" Poser stammed his foot in annoyance. "Really, the nerve of some people. I'm trying to have a serious conversation with the folks of the Asylum, and you're here making up stories that are based on non-fiction. Most importantly, you're destroying my aura! It's my aura damnit, and YOU CAN'T HAVE IT!" Poser throws a little tantrum. "As for the 7-11 clerk duties, they released me after only a week. Something about my weak accent. Damn my polish herritage."

Mark sighed. "You're American Eddie."

"Only in blood and birth certificates!" Pause. "As for blockbuster, you know you actually have to bring back the movies? It's such a pain! I have about six copies of the movie Showtime at home."

Confused, Mark asked a question he more then likely regreted. "Why six?"

"Oh... Uhmmm, my dog ate the other five." Poser stammered before grabbing the collar of his cloak. "But after all that's said and done, I really want to make a living here, in the hardcore wrestling league that is the Asylum. I just hope I don't get hurt too bad." Poser lets out a fake laugh before playfully elbowing Cameraman Mark in the side. Mark doesn't change his stern expression.

"Eddie, this is a fighting fed. Everything is real. It's not like LoW!"

Suddently, Poser's face contorted into a way that it's never been before. Dear God, the amount of fear he must have is overwhelming. "SAVE ME!" Poser leaps up off the Asylum canvas and into the arms of Cameraman Mark, effectively destroying his boombox and dropping his septor on the ground. "Can I just be an announcer then? I'm told I have a radio face."

Just then, two security guards grabbed Poser by his collar and threw him out of the cage and to the floor below. Another security guard waited, as he drug the King of Poland, kicking and screaming, out of the Asylum.

Legion of Dairy Vs Eddie Cheno & Nicole Carson

A long established team against a newly formed one. The Legion of Dairy seemed to have the upperhand in that way, but they were going against two expierenced fighters. If Cheno and Carson worked well together than LoD weren’t sure if they were going to keep their jobs today.

“Sellout” by Biohazard rang out to thousands of marks in the building. On cue with their entrance, the pumped cHEESE and eggNOG ran down to the cage. They were anxious to retain their position in The Asylum and winning would spare them some time.

Both leapt inside and played to the crowd as much as possible. They suddenly stopped and turned when hearing “Smoke Two Joints” by Sublime. The crowd erupted in cheers as a battered and weakened Eddie Cheno was seen first, but then warped to a mixed reaction as Nicole Carson strode beside him.

Why was he here again? Fighting a match every week was never easy, never mind against a 6'9", 292 lbs monster last week. Cheno walked a hardened pace when nearing halfway. It dawned on him then, somebody had signed him up for this. To make him weaker.

But he would soon be hit with a reality check. Thinking so much, he had completely forgot where he was going. Where he had went…was right into harm’s way and LoD wasted no time picking him apart.

They pummeled him with stiff rights and lefts, beating him to the mat. Nicole Carson clashed into the brawling after a long while. LoD turned their attention away from Eddie Cheno and crazily thrashed Nicole, trying to deal enough damage before they could get organized.

NOG followed up their assault with a DDT as his partner awaited to stomp on her relentlessly. Nicole covered the blows with her arms, yet it didn’t do much good. NOG pulled her to her feet, while she struggled to get out, and he seemed to have the uperhand…but Nicole kicked him to the ribs.

cHEESE pounced on the opprotunity, clubbing her to the back. The other half of LoD recovered from the swift kick, while he locked her in for a German Suplex. She tried to catch a look at Cheno before her world was tipped upside down, but it was no use.

What LoD did not know though, was that Eddie Cheno was waiting for them. As NOG turned, realizing that Cheno should have been up already, he was indeed correct. Cheno struck him with a vicious Needle Jab. He tumbled down, grasping his chin that felt smashed miles in.

Meanwhile, Nicole Carson was still taking kicks everywhere. cHEESE saw his partner go down but knew that she was weak…he would finish her quick at this rate. His boots knocked the wind out of her, each drawing a harsh wheeze from her throat.

This was exactly what they didn’t want.

A blurred hand wrapped around his ankle. One moment he was standing, the next his back smacked against the mat and a tortortuorus pain stabbed through his ankle. He hollered out as Nicole twisted. He tried to kick away for freedom with his other foot, but he was stuck.

They didn’t want them organized.

Eddie felt the bruise on his right cheek, and spit onto the mat. The two had gotten the better of him, but he wouldn’t let them twice. NOG shoved back while holding his chin and Eddie stalked closer.

He got up to his feet, blocking the agonized screams of his partner. Not on purpose. He was too caught up in the action to realize. Cheno ran forward but NOG caught him with a sitdown sidewalk slam. Somehow he had gotten the better of him twice.

There was an immediate change when the screams stopped. cHEESE had also gotten the uperhand from crawling over to the cage, pulling himself up and then elbowing Nicole Carson in the face until she let his ankle loose. He whipped around and Fireman Carried the stunned Carson into the cage. Her twisted body layed there, viewing the events upside down.

NOG raised his hand for a chair. One was thrown into the cage while the crowd cheered him on for more bloodshed. He gripped it tightly, lifting it above his head, then cracked Cheno’s skull in with a shot.

Not enough.

Egg NOG drew the chair back once more, Eddie struggled, and then the chair blasted him in the face. “Him” being…

Egg NOG.

The chair flew off his face, spinning to the other side of the cage and dieing near the mesh. Meanwhile, cHEESE had targeted Carson’s neck since it being the victim of three attacks. cHEESE grabbed her by the wrist.

No, she pulled away and an axe kick followed up after, smashing him in the face with unreal speed. Carson’s agility was winning against him, he tried to combat it…but he couldn’t catch her with anything. Barely concious and on the mat, he knew that if he locked in one submission he could make her tap.

After every punch, NOG would stumble one step from Cheno’s raw strength. Two punches rattled his brains, and he took two steps back. He mixed it with an uppercut and NOG stumbled drunkenly with his arms flailing. His fists connecting with his skull were repetitve after that.

Another punch. Another step back.

Nothing he could do. But take a step back.

And another. And another.

And another.

Until…

Both of them turned their heads to the chair.

A moment of silence.

Both of them wanted the same thing.

And as they rushed like little children to the lunch line, they knew only one would get it first.

Eddie dove for it, but while he did so did egg NOG. Perhaps it was planned or instinct, but nevertheless egg NOG grasped Eddie’s hair in mid air, and planted his face onto the chair he had wanted so bad. Eddie’s face dribbled off the metal, each time denting it a little more. The crowd hollered at this display of violence.

egg NOG had the chair in his possesion as he stood back up. Eddie seemed knocked out from the face plant, but how long would it last? All of egg NOG’s questions were put on the back burner…because he felt another person’s presence behind him.

He turned, to see Nicole Carson holding a flashlight. This was a weird sight and the whole crowd agreed with him.

He laughed and pointed to the chair then the flashlight. “Do you plan to blind me with that thing?”

Then he arrogantly pulled it back, dreaming of another day in the Asylum, and let loose a baseball bat swing.

SMACK!

The chair spiraled away from a roundhouse kick. Thrusting herself at him, she jabbed him with the long handle. Merciless, she stuck and struck, digging away at his face. After pounding him until her face turned red, the insides bursted out of the flashlight.

NOG slumped to the mat, cradling his forehead…very surprised and in very much pain. His eyes watered from the extremeness. Why wouldn’t his body sleep? Carson lashed him across the face and his head spun, the flashlight busting once again and spewing more insides onto him.

Out of nowhere, cHEESE emerged and annihalated Carson with a powerful German Suplex.

She doubled over on the mat, lifeless for what he could tell. He peered down at the broken form of egg NOG as the ref started counting Carson out. He turned to Carson and pointed with rage, “BITCH!”

Through everything he went through, physically and mentally, somehow Eddie Cheno was to his feet. His muscels dragged like they were 2,000 lbs. , but he had something to prove during this fight. He would not allow himself to lose.

Eddie threw two punches, enough to daze cHEESE in his state. Then pulled him over the cage wall, he climbed as best as he could, and dropped him head first onto the cage wall.

Sucks To Be You.

And it did. cHEESE fell to the mat unconcious, and Eddie slumped over on top of the cage.

Perched on the top, he watched as Nicole Carson got to her feet before the 10 count.

Luckily, cHEESE did not.

He breathed a deep sigh…somehow they had made it.

They wouldn’t be going any farther though.

Eddie prayed that she would take this well. Her obsession didn’t bring out a great ending in his mind but maybe if he said it just right, then she wouldn’t be too hurt. Nothing a few drinks couldn’t solve.

She came over hysteric about winning the match. She tried to lift his deadweight arms but they didn’t budge. Sensing something wrong, she suddenly stopped and stared.

Eddie gave a grim reply with a crooked smile, “Listen, dis has gotta funken stop. I’m sorry Nicole, but it ain’t goin the way I thought it would. It ain’t funken just be you wo-mang, it be me too. I haven’t gotten over the death of Jett. I want ta funken forget but my mind still plays tricks on me.”

He stopped for a moment. Whatever Nicole was expressing he ignored. “Your obsessin ain’t funken cool. It’s got me pressured there ain’t much I can do about it either. So I’m gonna say dis the funken best way I can…”

“Sorry I started it, but now it’s over.”

He dropped the microphone and waited for her reaction. Reality had dawned on him, and he was paying attention to her now. But what he had got…

Was absolutely nothing.

SMACK!

Nicole slapped him and Eddie held his face. Too much information was being caught up in his brain, everything came out in that single cut through the air. There was another deafening smack and Eddie stared where his head led him, disbelief grueling past the pain.

One strike to the gut and Eddie heeled over, her foot slamming into it with tremendous force.

A rush of hatred overtook Carson and she tossed him against the cage wall. He bounced off of it, his shocked expression lasting on her. He leaned against the wall to recover, but was the victim of a swift crack to the head.

”Fucking sorry ass.” She hissed as her boot caught his ribs.

Eddie clutched his ribs and his eyes sharpened on Nicole. There was anger brewing through every kick she dealt.

Nicole picked up the microphone that Cheno had dropped moments before. The same one he had declared their break up. She brought the microphone to her lips and laughed defiantly.

“Looks like the truth hurts, huh Cheno? I didn’t want to have to do this here. I wanted to do this at the BIGGEST show of the year, but it looks like I’ll have to do it when the chance presents itself.”

As Cheno tried to recover, she grasped his shirt and violently slammed him against the cage wall. Followed up with the resounding sound of her fist pounding against his head.

”Newsflash Eddie Cheno, I NEVER wanted to sleep with you. I never wanted to talk to you, or look at you, or have anything to do with you. Who would want to be with someone like yourself? You’re pathetic.”

“Everything that seemed by chance. Well, it wasn’t. Everything has a reason. Too caught up with yourself to notice though. I wouldn’t expect anything else from a sorry excuse of a man like you.”

Carson pointed to her UK Title near the corner of the cage, and then lashed Eddie once more. Her cruel lips widened into a sadistic smile. “All I wanted was to destroy you. I’ve mind fucked you Eddie. All I wanted to do was cover my own ass here.”

“You took it all. Hook and sinker.”

She raised her fist back like a snake ready to pounce on its prey, though it was reversed as Eddie Cheno squeezed the life from it, nostrils flaring with intense hatred. He rose from the grave, tightening his grip on her wrist until she kneeled.

“Now you’re funken dead!”

He wrenched her arm till she sneered and the crowd hollered for more. “Ya funken bitch, ya got the best of me. I shoulda known better too. But ya see, there ain’t much too your funken plan now. Because I’m going to beat the funken shiznit outa ya now mang. For all da pain you caused me.”

Carson tapped; except that the strength of Eddie didn’t falter…it got stronger. His grip further tightened as he went on. “At Immortals we’re gonna have a title match. For dat funken piece of tin over there. There’s gonna be a lot of dealin of funken carnage.”

He released his grip on her arm, and she thought of freedom. Though he raised the microphone again.

“There be only one more thing I gotta say. Payback’s a bitch, wo-mang.”

He slammed his fist into her delicate face. Then, bringing back his balled fist, he spat on her face. Eddie let her fall to the mat.

“Oh yeah, and bring your sorry funken ass.”

Eddie Cheno stared down at the broken form of Nicole Carson. Though he wished that he could envision Jett, he knew that he couldn’t. Now he watched the disgrace drip from her. He was only adding fuel to the fire, knowing the true fight would come at Immortals.

"And this should take care of your interests in that piece of shit company," Campbell's voice could be heard from outside the door. "21w doesn't deserve your talent, you know. They're all a bunch of bloody cunts."

"Yeah, whatever," said another voice from inside the room. "Just keep signing the check, and we'll take care of things."

"Good," said a seemingly pleased Campbell. "I want those fuckers to lose before they ever get out there. Stupid no-talent assholes."

"Yeah, it's obvious that there's a plethora of talent here," said the other voice. Campbell audibly cringed.

"Can we get out of here please?" said another voice, one that sounded familiar.

"Yes, we can," said the first voice. "I feel like I'm becoming a bad hardcore wrestler, just by being here. Is this check gonna pass, Fight Club?"

"What do you think?" Campbell said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"I think that you need to be selling drugs on the side, because this place can't be making you any money."

"Look, you didn't come here to be a fuck. You're here because you had a business proposition, and you need my help to do it."

"Wrong," said the first voice. "I'm here to make money. You're here because you need MY help to turn the tide. You know you don't stand a fucking chance without my help."

"Wrong," said Campbell. "Those 21w pricks have no ability."

"But I do."

Silence. Then, chairs moved. Feet shifted. The door opened.

"Fair enough," said Campbell. "Just make sure this gets taken care of."

"Oh, don't worry. We will."

One man stepped out from the room, his back to the camera. Another man followed, his face blocked. A third man, trembling in fear, came out quickly. And finally, another man exited, his face plain as day.

A smiling Jon Crisp caught his breath, and began to lead the rest of the Cult Heroes down a corridor. "These idiots have no idea what's coming to them," he said.

"None at all."

Meanwhile, Joe Campbell sat in his office, reflecting on his latest transaction. Victory costs a lot, sometimes. But now, as far as he was concerned, victory over 21st Century Wrestling was money in the bank. Literally.

Static.

LLB Vs Miles Blunder
(Iliad Qualifier)

For in just mere seconds, he’d be fighting what was, in his mind, a legend.

‘The Law’, LLB.

Entering the cage, Miles first thought of exiting it again. He didn’t need this drama. He didn’t need this pain.

He didn’t need to object to the law.

Jesus Christ... he had always tried to obey the bloody thing, anyway.

Miles walked back to the door of the Asylum. He was just going to go.

“Black and White” by Static-X.

‘The Germ Gestapo’ basically fainted.

The Fans roared, as LLB came down to a pretty good ovation, and despite not being on tA TV as of late, it seemed as if he didn’t even miss a step. For whatever the problems was in getting to the Asylum’s shows... it looked to be fixed. A backstage contract problem of some kind... but as rumors went on, he was now back.

And the ‘Jury’ loved it.

Miles wanted to exit the cage right then and there, however his wandering mind had already wasted too much time. By now, LLB had entered... the door had shut, and the bell had rung.

LLB looked across the grounds to M.D.B., whom just stood... and glanced around the Asylum mesh.

Anything to take his mind off of who was in front of him.

‘The Law’ took a step forward, as Miles just backtracked one himself.

LLB took another step.

Backtrack.

Step.

Backtrack.

Step.

Backtrack.

Step.

Backtrack.

And by now, the Fans were booing. They wanted to see some fighting. They wanted to see LLB go at it against Miles Blunder for a shot to join the Iliad, battling under the name of the Asylum.

God how Miles wanted to do that.

Then... maybe, some people would forget about how he first started off here.

Then... maybe, they’d forget how he messed up when he was set to “soul-invade”

21wrestling’s Uncut one month ago.

Hell, then... maybe, he’d be able to make some friends in tA. Ones such as Steve Christ, Ricky Wasp, and Ty Hughes, whom were already in the Match at hand.

God did Miles Blunder want that.

Snap.

He woke up... seeing LLB right beside him.

The lawyer went for a grapple, but Blunder just ran away... and then did something the entire Arena booed at.

He jumped over the top of the Asylum cage, directly to the ground below.

“No way... NO FUCKING WAY!” Blunder already began to get mad at himself for the stupid move he had just done. He buckled under the pressure... and as the bell went, he knew he wasn’t going to get another shot. “FUCK! FUCK!!” ‘The Germ Gestapo’ screamed, as he seemed to lose his stuttering problem at the moment and slammed his foot hard against the guardrail.

“MOTHER FUCKER!!”

LLB just squinted his eyes in the cage and shrugged, it was the easiest battle he ever fought, but the lawyer couldn’t help but feel a little concerned for Miles, who hadn’t stopped kicking the rail yet.

“What a comeback Miles... WHAT A FUCKING COMEBACK!!”

Blunder looked up, seeing a man in the front row... laughing.

‘The Germ Gestapo’ lost it.

Pulling out his mini-Windex bottle from inside his large, baggy blue jeans, Blunder took forth with it, and sprayed the man dead in the eyes.

“YOU FUCKER... FUCKER!”

He did it again.

And again.

By now the entire Arena was booing, as some other people in the Crowd attempted to fight the bottle out of Miles’ hands, but couldn’t.

If only he was this mad before the actual contest.

Blunder snapped around, splashing another man with the cleaner in the eyes.

That cued LLB.

Exiting the cage, ‘The Law’ ran and tackled Miles down to a ton of cheers, as the Fans chanted the lawyer and current A! Champion on, leaving Blunder in a freaked-out position on the floor.

LLB, above him.

“So- sor- sorr- sorry L- L- LLB.”

‘The Law’ couldn’t understand where Miles was coming from though... however, he then again seemed to, as he dusted Blunder’s shoulders off and pulled himself back up, walking up the ramp and into the curtain, leaving Blunder down, still dumbfounded on the ground.

The Show went to a commercial.

"Well?" a voice off camera sprang up.

Lonnie turned to face it. It was obvious that the voice was that of egg NOG. His head still bandaged from his "encounter" with Steve Christ only one week before. Lonnie reached into his front pocket and pulled out a letter. He smirked as cHEESE snatched it from his grasps.

cHEESE grinned as he read over the front of the envelope.

"Is this what I think it is?"

Lonnie nodded as cHEESE ripped open the letter and raced over it's message. The smile slowly faded as he read further and further into the letter. His head sunk down in sorrow as he held the letter up for egg NOG to look at. egg NOG grabbed it from cHEESE's hand as he, too, read over. Of course he wasn't as fast a reader as cHEESE so he took a little longer to read.

The result was the same.

egg NOG slowly lifted his head as the frown had turned into a smile. He held the note up and slapped it with his hand.

"We got the match."

And just as quick as it started, it was over. And the Show moved on.

Pain & Suffering Vs The Bullies
(Best-of-5 Series: P&S Lead 2-1)

Baiden pulled Kard toward him and whispered into his ear, and within seconds, both men threw their belts down and ran into the ring - but Pain and Suffering were waiting for them! Regardless of the referee’s instructions, both men rained down on the backs of both Marc and Seth with blow after blow after blow.

Drake let up for a minute, which was a big mistake, as Baiden got the chance to rise to his feet and grab him by the neck. Marc choked Kerrigan, before he threw him into the turnbuckle (top right on screen). With an array of punches, Baiden finished off by jumping back to deliver a roundhouse kick.

The sight of Richler beating down Seth Kard on the opposite side of the ring caught Baiden’s eye, who immedietly charged at Clayton, clubbing him over the back with a hard forearm. He stumbled forwards into the ropes, and a moment’s hesitation is all that was needed for Seth to shoot up a palm to the face from being slumped in the corner. Marc then grabbed a hold of the back of Richler’s head and tights, before he threw him over the top rope and to the outside.

Seth rolled to the ring apron, then got back up to his feet, and Marc instantly tagged him in. Seth then let out a large wail as he charged at the corner (top right), only to be clotheslined hard to the mat by a now fully recovered Drake Kerrigan.

Drake pulled Kard up and threw him head first into the top turnbuckle pad, then again… then again… then again… over and over again until Seth couldn’t stand under his own will. Drake pulled Seth up to a sitting position quickly, before he locked him in with a sleeper hold, dragging him away from the ropes so Seth couldn’t get out of the hold.

“FUCK!!” screamed Seth as he fought the hold, but he wasn’t going to squeeze his way out. He then started throwing his arms about wildly in the hope that he would connect - which he did. Kerrigan fell backwards, as Seth shot to his feet, quickly locking in a half leg grapevine.

However, Seth didn’t realise how close Drake was to the ropes, and was forced to break the hold.

The two got up and charged at each other, clocking each other with a clothesline, sending both men to the mat hard. The referee began his count…

1.

2.

SIMULTANIOUS KICKUP~!!

Both Seth and Drake kicked up, back to their feet. Drake charged at Seth, but the nineteen year old ducked the forearm attempt. Seth then locked Kerrigan in from behind, before he hit a German suplex. Kard bridged and then rolled backwards, keeping hold of the legs of the Kerrigan. Seth the stood up, quickly took hold of Drake’s leg, before turning him over with a half crab submission.

Baiden jumped into the ring (from the bottom left corner), which brought Richler in on the other side. The referee saw Richler come into the ring and immediately cut him off, much to the approval of Baiden, who hit a huge knee drop on the back of Kerrigan, while still in the half crab. It took several more shots to the back before the referee turned to chase Marc out of the ring.

With both Baiden and Richler now on the ring apron, Seth stood up, still with a firm hold on the leg of Drake. After dragging him into the corner of the Bullies, Baiden was tagged in.

Back in the ring, Marc took hold of the left leg of Kerrigan and shot a kick at it, before he dragged him about.

In what seemed to be an instant, Baiden locked in a step over to crossface hold - the STF.

Pain was now shooting from the left leg of Drake Kerrigan, right up the left side of his body, all the way to his head. Before long, Baiden grew tired of the fact that Kerrigan would not tap, so he decided that he would try something else.

Kerrigan thought he could see a glimmer of hope as Baiden allowed him to his feet, but he couldn't get far across the ring before the New York native came after him. In what seemed to be one flowing motion, Baiden pulled Drake's legs out from under him. With Kerrigan in a sitting position, Baiden locked Drake in with a full nelson hold. Baiden then stepped over Drake's body and continued with the single most devastating submission move ever seen in 21st Century Wrestling, and now the Asylum - “The Silencer”, of course, in tribute to his close friend and former 21w Millennium Champion, Boswic (Boswic was forced into retirement by Golden Glen Miller months ago).

Kerrigan tried to fight it, but he couldn’t stay in the full nelson cross with camel clutch much longer - he was forced into submission as he looked at his tag team partner on the outside.

There was nothing he could do, as it was proven that the Asylum fighters just couldn’t match the pure wrestling seen in 21w.

As soon as Baiden heard the bell, he let go of the hold and rolled out of the ring - Seth Kard was there to meet him on the outside, and the two backed up the ramp confidently to the tune of “Born of Desire”.

Looking back into the ring, Baiden snapped his fingers and mouthed the words “that was all it took”, implying that it took a matter of seconds for him to make a member of Pain and Suffering tap. But most of all, that was all it took for the Bullies to square up the best of five series.

With two matches each, the fifth and final match was about to come into play…

…seven days away, live from Manchester.

Immortals.

This was an unwelcome and unwanted surprise. Under the Asylumtron a pair of hands parted the curtain and that pair of hands was followed by a body. And a second body behind that one.

It was the Legion of Dairy. May God have mercy on us all.

egg NOG was leading the way, in his hand was the letter that they had received early from Clark. The smiles were still on their faces as they quickly paced themselves up the stairs and into the Asylum. egg NOG waltzed over to the rim of the Asylum and leaned over, demanding a microphone be handed to him. Reluctantly, one was.

NOG stepped back as he looked out over the crowd, most of whom didn't care that he or cHEESE were standing in the cage before them. They were here to see blood. There were here to see unimaginable gore. They weren't here to see the Legion of Dairy.

"Two weeks ago," egg NOG started as fans began groan that a match probably wasn't happening anytime soon, "two weeks ago cHEESE and I mailed off a letter. A simple request with huge implications should they be full-filled."

NOG was forced to pause as boos from the crowd grew louder. Sure the fans loved the Legion of Dairy, but they didn't want to hear them talking. They just wanted to see them fighting. If they wanted to here someone ramble for twenty minutes, they knew were to go.

Asylum shouldn't have been that place and they would make sure people knew it.

He continued amid the boos, "they were." He turned to face a smiling cHEESE, as he pulled the letter from the front of his tights and held it in the air for all to see.

"It doesn't seem like much to you." NOG paused once again as he lowered the letter to chest level and stared at it. "But it means the world to us."

The fans that weren't confused booed, the ones that were stayed silent.

"We're trapped in a shadow. Desperate to get out. To become 'someone' in the Asylum, you have to do something memorable. Borst did it. Rock did it. Nerva did it. Graphic Violence did it. Angel did it."

"Now we will."

For some reason, fans cheered. Maybe the thought of the cult-like Legion of Dairy becoming something "big" pleased them. Maybe their reasons were misplaced. No one is really sure. But egg NOG went on.

"In one week, the Asylum goes to war. One year ago, Asylum did something no one expected. They attacked a rival promotion, catching it off guard and left it defenseless. They left it for dead and went on with their life. It didn't die. It only grew stronger."

Redundant.

"But you've heard this before. So there's no need to go there."

The fans cheered. egg NOG lowered the letter to his side and looked out to the fans.

"However," he quietly started, "this area wasn't covered. When the Asylum attacked, they left a man's career in question. His leg broken and his spirt the same, he was gone. Only to flounder under an alias and failed return."

"Then came the hero."

Boos.

"He came into our world and demanded what he felt was his. In the end, he got his way. The story 'ended'.... Or did it?"

egg NOG held the letter up once more. Spining in circles as he stopped and handed it to cHEESE. He stepped away, pointing at the letter in cHEESE's hand.

"That piece of paper rehashes the past. What Borst couldn't do. What ArchAngel could manage.

We will."

The shot lowered down behind egg NOG, putting him off center of the Asylumtron and giving the audience at home a clear shot. Two images slowly fade in on the screen.

"In one week, the Legion of Dairy will be at Immortals. Their opponents?

'Mad' Max Marx and Ace Carter."

The fans cheered. The shot cut back to egg NOG as he was now smiling his biggest possible smile. He raised his hand and started to wave.

"Let me be the first to say: Welcome back.

Villam Ender Vs Mega Job
(Iliad Qualifier)

If anyone wanted to say something about mismatch of the century, they would have to speak now... or forever hold their peace.

Contrast wasn't the world... in Villam Ender lay a world of violence spoken directly through Asylum's weekly shows and monthly pay per view events... the man had seen and done everything, forced into playing the role of a mute, almost losing an eye in the heat of battle... somewhat uncharacteristically raping another fighter and later losing his manhood as result, before finally being diagnosed with a very rare form of schizophrenic multiple personality disorder.

He was the epitome of the madness, the violence and the chaos that the Asylum portrayed.
And then there were Mega Job.

Mega Job were the master plan of Joe Campbell, what better way to attack an opponent than verbally? Through mocking rival promotions Campbell didn't need to waste resources and fighters through real battle... he could merely sit back and allow the two super heroic goofs as much air time as was warranted.

Chalk and cheese, black and white... Villam Ender and Mega Job did not belong in the same picture.

But anything can happen in the Asylum.

"Super Bon Bon" by Soul Coughing hit the speakers and the heroic due rushed down to the Asylum, the crowd reacting indifferently as usual, Beef and Janito clambered up into the structure and started to confer, as the mood in the arena changed somewhat.

"Negative Creep"

Nirvana.

Villam Ender.

The three arrived at once, Villam brushing through the curtain to a good response from the crowd, he made his way nonchalantly down to the Asylum, snapping up a chair at ringside as he did... this didn't go un-noticed by The Epic Tag Team, who both gulped in unison as Villam clambered up into the Asylum.

"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" A battle scream, as Beef and Janito circled Villam before rushing at him from both sides.

He sidestepped.

Bone connected with bone, skull connected with skull.

CRACK!

Janito and Beef fell to the canvas... floundering around in agony as Villam stood with a somewhat bermused expression on his face... the two struggled up to their feet and stood side by side... glaring at Villam.

"PIKACHU... I CHOOSE YOU!" Beef roared, rushing at Villam with a snarl on his face.

BLAM!

Which... suddenly hit the canvas with a resounding thud... Janito looked down to see that he was standing on Beef's cape... as Beef lay unconscious on the canvas, Janito stepped off the cape and looked at Villam with a gulp.

Villam drew back the chair.

Janito fell to the canvas convulsing.

Villam looked confused once again, the referee quickly checked on both Mega Job members and made an obligatory ten count... Villam Ender had just participated in possibly his easiest Asylum match ever.

"Negative Creep" hit once again... as Villam started to leave, the crowd booing Mega Job who both got to their feet joyously.

"I think it worked esse!" Janito exclaimed.

THWACK!

The crowd erupted with cheers at VIllam's final act... almost beheading both men with a wicked chair shot which caught them both across the skull, Nirvana continued to rock through the arena as Villam made his way out of the Asylum... catching a glimpse of Ken War as he did... Villam stared at him long and hard.

And he died.

Mega Job had lost, Ken War was dead... and Villam Ender was going to Immortals, the more things change... the more they stay the same.

He looked into the mirror, saw the pale figure of stone-chiseled muscle staring back at him. The eyes, grey, emotionally void.

First Hypnosis, now LLB...

He absently rubbed his ribs where LLB had delivered an Erroneous Conclusion to him at seVered, not long ago, the triple threat contender match now seeming like a distant memory.

LLB. The little shit that had cost him the chance to purify the Asylum, starting with Ty Hughes... Hypnosis.

This was not going to be Ricky's favorite match.

His father, if he were in the room right now, would probably have started raving right at that moment. How this wasn't right. No way would a nigger or some freak with a junkie name would be on Ricky's side... on any Williams's side... ever. Richard Williams would have left the room to scream at Joe Campbell, the same man who had, not too long prior, shoved the weight of seven days from this moment into their minds.

But father was gone for the minutes now.

He kept on staring into the mirror.

"I've got to do... what I've got to do."

Even if it meant fighting alongside foes.

Fuck.

Papa wouldn't be happy.

Providence(c) Vs Carnage
(T.V. Title)

And with the completetion of that task, he has a shot a title, just as Joe promised. Now all Carnage has to do is take out a man, who traded in his loyalty to Joe for a woman, not just any woman.. a woman who tried to destroy the Asylum, a woman who disgraced the Heavyweight championship. It wasn't going to be such a hard task for Carnage after all, in a way it would be revenge for the punishment Providence gave him a few weeks back. Revenge truly was a bitch.

Cornelius made his way down the ramp as "Adrenaline Rush" by Twista blared over the speaker system, the mixed reaction didn't matter, this Corteia was ready for a battle from beginning to end, he was ready to grab a hold of the Television title. He swung the door open, and began to bounce around inside the Asylum, as he looked up the ramp way waiting for his opponent.

"Forty Six and Two" by Tool and out came Providence with Nerva by his side and the crowd cheered, as Providence held his title firmly around his waist as he made his way down the ramp to fight what was going to be a battle between two of Asylum's best fighters.

As Providence stepped between the ropes, he knew that the title that he unstrapped from his waist, was the one chip that protected Sharon Lee from the wrath of Joe Campbell. The one chip that held the woman he loved out of the devil's grasp, and no matter what in this bout, he couldn't afford to lose it. The ref raised the title high in the air showing the crowd what the match was going to be fought over, and both men eyed it, the referee went to hand the title over to the time keeper, and behind his back the two men were face to face exchanging words.

Eye to eye, as both men stood 6'2", Carnage sniffed heavily and spat a lugey right into the face of Providence knocking him back a few feet. Providence reached up wiping it away, but as he did so Carnage geared back and drove his shoulder right into the abdomen of Providence. As Providence went to breathe in more air, Carnage geared back and knocked it back out with another blast of the shoulder. Going for another shoulder, Carnage's head was grabbed tightly by Providence as the Television champion tightened his hold around the neck of Carnage cutting away at the former Extreme Champion's air supply.

Providence stood and drove Carnage's head hard off the cage mesh, he released the hold and began to drag Carnage's forehead against the very same mesh. When first blood was drawn, Carnage was thrust to the mat, as Providence walked around the ring surveying the damage.

Carnage wasn't going to be held down as he jumped right back up to his feet, with the crimson ran down his face down into his mouth, eye contact was made for the second time this match, and as they eyed the other they circled around the ring. Providence lunged forward for an arm and collar tie up by fell victim of an armdrag by Carnage, who quickly jumped right back up to his feet. Carnage ran over to the downed champion, and drove his knee down onto the side of Providence repeatedly.

Finally Cornelius brought him up to his feet, and sent him in for a vicious Irish Whip, but Providence didn't let go and he now had a rear waistlock on Carnage, he attempted to lift but it was blocked. He attempted to lift again, but it was blocked again! Providence tried to lift Carnage into a suplex for a third time, but this time he was greated with a violent lowblow to his lower regions! Providence was doubled over holding his jewels, and Carnage hoisted himself up to rim, measuring it up Carnage leaped for a legdrop.. but missed! Providence held onto the cage tightly, as Carnage sat on the ground in pain holding his rear.

Providence stumbled from behind and locks the Kaja hajame onto Carnage, the crowd cheered as they believed Providence had this one wrapped up. The referee thought it was over as he dropped down and asked Carnage if he submitted or not, but the question was answered loudly as Carnage screamed "NO!"

Carnage kicked his legs violently, moving the two slowly back towards the mesh, finally Carnage had his knees bent and with the force against the mesh he stood on his feet, only to have Providence lock the hold on even tighter. The force caused Carnage to gasp, but he wasn't focused on the loss of oxygen, he was thinking of freeing himself from this, and stepping forward he thrust himself backwards sending Providence's back hard into the cage wall making him break the hold. The moment the hold was released Carnage dropped down to his knees holding his throat.

Carnage was back up and approached Providence, and nailed him with a swift fist to the face which instantly drew blood from the nose of Providence. Irish whip from Carnage, and he followed up and splashed Providence into the cage. Reaching up savagely Carnage clawed at Providence's eyes, and as Providence held his face Carnage went and nailed a hard boot to the midsection of Providence. Grabbing onto Providence, Carnage nailed a Tombstone piledriver!

As he got to his feet, he wasn't finished as he sent a violent flurry of boots to the abdomen of Providence. Carnage reached into his pocket and yanked out a pair of handcuffs, and the Crazy Corteia held them high in the air so that even the nose bleed sitters could see, he balled them up in his hand as he reached down grabbing Providence by the hair and he slammed the handcuffs hard into his face, and he started to grind it against his head and another blood tap opened on Providence's head as it ran down his forehead.

Carnage reached into his pocket and yanked out his trusty knife, and the crowd began to grow restless, he lifted it in the air and slammed it down..!

But he missed as Providence rolled out the way. Both men stood on their feet, as Carnage swung the knife wildly at Providence. The wild swing was ducked, and Providence grabbed a hold of Carnage's arm and nailed a side Russian legsweep, the knife skid far across the ring. Providence struggled to stand as he grasped the big source of pain in his forehead.

Slowly Cornelius got back up as well, and he slammed his fist into Providence's face again knocking him back, Providence staggered back a few steps, Carnage stopped and watched Providence finally get his full bearings as he stood straight, stood prone.. for a spear! Carnage drove his body to the mat, Providence was out, and Carnage was sure he wanted to end this now.. he bypassed the first half of the Maximum Carnage and he jumped up on the Asylum rim, as he patted his elbow.

But as Cornelius stood atop the rim he surveyed the arena, and he caught the eyes of Nerva, and the two stared at one another, and something inside of Carnage's head clicked, he was about to win, but her expression told him that something was wrong, something wasn't the way it was a few minutes ago. And suddenly he felt immense saddness pouring from her, and guilt.. his eyes tracked to the table where the belt was being held and finally he looked back to the ring..

Only to be hit with a lowblow from Providence! Providence grabbed a hold of him and gorilla pressed him from the rim! Providence stumbled to the mat, but quickly afterwards he was up to his feet, and he yanked Carnage to his feet and nailed The Schism! Carnage bounced back harshly from the move, and Providence slowly got up to his feet as the ref began his count..

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8... Slowly Carnage began to push himself up, but as he did he saw Nerva's eyes again. And for that brief moment he saw what would happen to her if Providence lost this title.

9... Carnage dropped his head back down on the mat, he knew she didn't deserve what Joe would give her. He felt sorry for her, sorry enough to bring home the Television title to Joe.

10... The bell rang, and Providence was announced winner, and still Television champion.

But things were far from over.

“Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck” by Prong. Perhaps Hans chose the song to illustrate something literal. He pushed past the curtains with a microphone in his hand. Providence immediately got up and tossed his title over his shoulder. He was ready to fight again.

Hans only smiled. He showed no signs of wanting to fight. “Vell, I must hand it to you, Providence, good job. But zat was nothing. Joe knew Carnage would lose. Carnage is nothing. He vas only designated to veaken you! Ze man zat vill take zat belt avay from you… iz me.”

The fans booed.

“Joe booked a PPV match for me, Providence. Dah, for Immortals. It vill be me versus you for that title you’re protecting vith all your life.”

Suddenly, Joe Campbell and his fuck slut Zoe appeared on the AsylumTron. “And that match,” said Joe, “will take place right before your match with Zoe, Nerva. Don’t you see what that means? When Hans beats you, Providence, I’ve got no reason to give Nerva her freedom stipulation! What are you going to do, Providence? Walk without the TV Title? Hah!”
Nerva looked at Providence, but he put an arm around her waist to ease her worry.

Joe clasped his hands on his desk. “Since we’re talking about stipulations here, I thought it’d only be fair if I made a stipulation to this match. After all, I do own this company and I do own your ass, Nerva! Let’s make this Nerva vs. Zoe affair a special kind of match. Ladder? No way. Iron woman? Yuck! Licensed to kill match? Hmm…” Joe’s eyebrows rose as he reclined back in his chair. “I have to think about this. Last time we had one of those, an outside party got killed and I had to put up with a bunch of fucking lawyers. This time, we’ll put a twist on this match.

“How about a licensed to die match? Yes, I like that sounds of that. Licensing someone to kill is too much of a privilege, but a licensed to die - perfect. In fact, I’ve already prepared the documents.” Joe reached into his drawer and read from a typed contract. “Both fighters in the Nerva vs. Zoe contest may legally die in the Asylum cage on the night of September 22, 2002. Neither fighter can kill anyone else in the arena other than her designated opponent.

Don’t even try to oppose, Nerva. I own your name and I’ve already signed the contract for you.”

Zoe uncrossed her legs as she sat on Joe’s table, creating a nice view into her skirt. The crowd popped big time and started a “LET’S SEE MORE!” chant. “You know, Nerva,” said Zoe, “I can’t kill you tonight and get away with it. I’ll have to save all of that up for Immortals. But tonight, slag, I’m gonna give you a whippin you’re gonna remember.”

Nerva eased out of Providence’s arm and faced the entrance, grabbing the metal rim. Hans still stood smiling under the AsylumTron, not showing any signs of attacking. All of a sudden, Zoe appeared from the crowd and entered the cage, pepper-spray in hand. Providence turned around first and got sprayed in the eyes. That was Hans’s cue. He rushed down the aisle as Nerva turned around and took a brass-knuckled fist from Zoe.

It was all a set-up. The AsylumTron video was all pre-recorded.

Providence didn’t even know what was happening around him as Hans floored him with the Dresden Powerhouse kick. As Providence clutched the back of his head, Hans jammed the heel of his boot into his ribs. In the middle of the cage, Zoe stripped Nerva of her jeans and her tank top. Down to her bra and thong panties, the whole world saw Nerva’s scars.

Zoe took out a permanent marker and began scribbling away over the scars.

“PROPERTY OF JOE CAMPBELL”

“PAIN SLUT”

“WHORE”

But one phrase stood out amongst the rest:

“GONNA BE DEAD IN SEVEN DAYS”

With all of that written on Nerva’s body, Zoe tossed her head to the ground and kicked her a few times. Meanwhile, Hans had made a bloody mess out of Providence, opening his lip up with vicious kicks. He took the brass knuckles from Zoe and finished Providence off with a knockout punch.

But neither Zoe nor Hans were done. The package in Hans’s pants grew to life. He picked up the microphone and nodded to Zoe.

“Does ze bitch really suck cock zat good, Providence? Vell, let’s find out!!”

The crowd went silent. He unzipped his jeans and pulled out his full-blown penis. Zoe pulled Nerva up by the hair and shoved Hans’s cock down her throat.

Hans bellowed a loud laugh. “Zis iz good, but it’ll be even better vhen you see ze video of zis, Providence!”

He grabbed two handfuls of Nerva’s hair and threw her down headfirst on the mat. The fans were booing and rioting as Hans recoiled his penis and zipped up. Hans continued to laugh, and Zoe joined in. They had no idea how far they raised the bar. The Immortals PPV was only seven days away.

666 was the number of the Devil, but the number 6 alone was rapidly becoming Joe Campbell's personal demon, once again... he'd bargained on something which in reality, was no certainty.

Asylum's biggest ever battle... Immortals, the Iliad... he'd presumed that any and every one of his troops would want to go to war.

He was wrong.

Joe had tried everything over the past few hours, he'd called Pete Borst... no answer, he'd left messages with Angel Dalton, no reply.

Joe Campbell's troops had once again deserted him.

Nerva wasn't going to fight for Joe, neither was Providence... to put things into blunt terms, Joe Campbell was screwed... nobody was going to step up to be the sixth Iliad combatant.

As Joe flicked through the numbers on his cell phone, he reached one in particular... and paused, the letters and the numbers burned into his eyes, and into his brain... every instinct and particle of common sense was screaming no, don't do it... but Joe knew, deep down in the back of his mind... that sometimes risks had to be taken.

One press of a button later, Joe was greeter by a familiar voice... as part of an answer phone message.

"Yeah... its me, look... I know what you think about right me... believe me fucker, I didn't expect to be making this call... but I need you, yep... laugh it up shitface, Joe Campbell needs you.

I'm short on the Iliad, we're fucked if I don't find a sixth man... you're the only person I can think of... so get back to me." Joe grunted, he hung the phone up... and a few seconds of silence passed.

SMASH!

Joe tossed the mobile phone into the wall, shattering it to pieces... he took his head and lay it in his hands... this truly was his darkest hour, he looked down... catching a reflection of his own face in an empty whiskey bottle.

"What have I done."