You decide.

Douglas stopped walking and turned Angel to face him, Token hung closely to Steve’s side, staring over his shoulder back at Angel, Steve shook his head, “Your missing the point Angel, this Thom Downey fuck has been plaguing our name for who knows how long. I’ve had enough of that shit, if people are going to take us serious then we need to make an example of him. So that others won’t fuck around.”

Angel paused for a moment before continuing with, “Yeah but-“

Only to be abruptly cut off by one word spoken from Token Weed’s lips, “Afraid?”

Angel immediately looked back at Token with an aggressive expression, “Hey fuck you stoner boy! You don’t know shit!”

Douglas moved in between them, “Both of you shut the fuck up,” Douglas turned to Token, “Another comment like that and I’ll show you what you’re afraid of,” Douglas turned back to Angel missing the clench fist of Token Weed, “Angel, calm down… what’s the matter with you? Are we going to be serious about this or what?”

Angel nodded.

Steve smiled, “Good, meet us back here in a half-hour.”

Angel turned and walked away and Token approached Steve one more time, “You sure about this kid?”

Douglas sighed, “I’m positive, just stick with the plan. It doesn’t matter who had bigger balls, all that matters is that things go the way I…we…want.”

"Well, I've been better Eddie. I mean, first off, you're working in an underground fighting promotion, which I can handle. I mean, I've seen you fight before, I know you can take care of yourself." Jett bit her lip. "But what happened out there tonight, with those girls..."

"Lesbians."

"What's it matter?"

"Oh Jett, ya don't funken wanna know."

"Whatever, with those lesbians. This is just insane! They're holding hostage like... so many fans I can't even count them all, in a building with like, machine guns! Or whatever they have! I really don't feel like getting too close to find out!"

"Dat ain't be da worse part Jett..."

"You mean it gets worse?!" Jett said in shock, standing up to her feet. "How can you work here?!? How can you work in this enviorment? Have you lost ALL your marbles since we broke up? Or have you always been this stupid!"

"I funken dhink, a little from funken column a, and from funken column b wo-mang." Cheno stammered.

"THERE AREN'T ANY COLUMNS!" Jett shouted, breaking down into tears and dropping to her knees. "It's just, I thought you had something special, you still do, but you're stuck here, and you should be out in the world, not hidden away in some underground place!" Jett sighed. "Just go to Vegas, please."

"Ya funken hate dis place now Jett, waitya funken meet da owner!"

"Oh my God! We're hijacked! It's like Air Force One, and I'm the President!" Poser stood wide-eyed, staring forward at a guard that stood in front of the exit to the arena with an armed gun.

"Poser, this isn't a movie, you're not the target of this hijacking, and lastly, you look NOTHING like Harrison Ford." Cameraman Mark stood in front of Poser, and readjusted his eye glasses.

"We'll see about THAT!" Poser smiled when he finished the sentance, and walked over to the security guard. She cocked her gun at eye level, as Poser raised his hands in a show of defeat. "Well, you're a woman here in a man's world, and I was just wondering, well, besides the hopefulness that I won't get shot tonight, if I looked remotely like Harrison Ford." Poser slowly began to back up, as the armed guard lowered the gun.

She didn't respond.

"What, you don't know Harrison Ford? Guy from Star Wars and that Indian movie?" Poser raised his eyebrows in confusion. The guard stayed with her stern face, as Poser turned his head towards Cameraman Mark. "Help me out here!"

"I'm not getting into this, I'm not insane."

Poser turned back towards the guard, let out a loose smile, and quickly ran away. Cameraman Mark stood there just completely confused, as he saw his 'fighter' run off into the distance.

"Nothing like Harrison Ford."

Cameraman Mark turned towards the guard with a shocked look on his face.

Suddently, Eddie Scott Poser came running by. He made one of those cartoon sound effect yells as he ran, as an armed guard quickly passed by afterwards, obviously following him.

"See womang? Ya ain't be dat funken crazy ta funken handle him." Cheno took in a deep breathe, before he caught a glimpse of someone that was further down the hall...

Providence.

Cheno stammered a bit, before he took Jett down a different walkway. Jett wasn't sure what was going on, the abrupt change in scenary. "Well Jett, dis be da funken Asylum cage outta der. It'd be real funken steel and shit, it funken hurt."

"Eddie, I already saw that, remember? You showed it to me before we were put into a Terrorist situation."

"Oh funk... I be no good wit dis tourist shiznit." Cheno said, before lowering his head. He walked over to a wall, and rested on it back first, taking a look out into the hallway where he had come from. Providence quickly walks by, unbeknownst that Cheno was looking at him for that very small split second. Cheno let out a sigh, as Jett leant over, and kissed Cheno on the forehead, before they took off back down the hallway they had just walked down from.

Avo said to himself as he was getting ready for the sunday.....ermm The Show. Chaos had already begun and Avo hadn't even been in the building for longer then 10 minutes.

Avo dug around in his bag looking for some of his gear.

"Hmmm thats strange I could've sworn I put that in here."

Avo shuffled around alittle more before he realized that he had forgotten his Spanish to English translator.

"Well you never know when a real actual Mexican will come up to you and start speaking spanish."

Avo left his locker room and ventured down the hall. He walked clear to the end of the hall till he read a sign that read "Exit." Just as Avo was about to open the doors one of Movements security guards blocked it off.

"Can't leave"

Said the 'soldier" in a stern voice

"Oh don't worry about it, I just need to leave and get my Spanish-To-English book that I forgot outside of the building."

The soldier pushed Avo to the ground. As Avo scratched his head.

"Hey you have a mask just like me!"

The soldier just stood her ground and kept on looking straight.

"Well this sucks. Looks like Avo Chavez is no more.....its now 'Die Hard' Chavez."

"Well, are you sure you don't have some way to get out of here?" Cameraman Mark asked, taking a seat in front of a large picnic table. "Maybe a cell phone?"

"See, that would be too pratical... I MEAN! YES! I DO!" Poser screamed, pulling a phone looking device out of his pocket. "COME IN! COME IN! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?!?"

Cameraman Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out another object that looks the same as Poser's. However, now Eddie's voice exited out of Mark's reciever. "Poser, this isn't a phone, it's a walky talky."

"Crud." Poser said, dropping from the wall and slumping to the ground.

"Hey, what can I say? I was extremely hungry! I mean, why fight your snack attack?"

"FOOD." Steve boomed, behind them.

They walked to the door of the arena and opened it.

"FREEZE!" yelled a member of the Movement, who happened to be holding a really, really big gun.

"AIIIIEEEEE!" screamed Janito, before he fainted. Beef fainted right behind him.

Steve looked down at them, then up at the Movement member. He shrugged before he held his arms up in the air, waved them around, and yelled really loudly.

"EEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!" he shouted. The woman just sort of stared at him before she closed the door again.

"SUCKTITUDE." Steve commented as he pulled Janito and Beef away from the doors.

"Uhmmm... Eddie, we don't have any fireworks." Cameraman Mark replied, as Poser lowered his head in defeat.

"Damnit! All my good ideas, wasted!" Poser let out a puppy dog sad face, as the camera switched scene.

"Yeah, but now how're you gonna get a look at their faces when you tell them about what you wanted to do?" Earl Pearl asked.

"No, no no. They'll beat us up. That would be bad." Earl of Windsore said.

"Agreed. Getting beat up by Mega Job is both physically and emotionally damaging. So, should we tell the world here?" Poobah Earl asked. The other three members of the Dark Order looked at each other and nodded.

"Okay." Poobah Earl said, before turning to the camera. "I am a CHAMPION. Yes. A champion. In all capital letters, even. See, last year, I won a match called the Mega Job Invitational! And ever since then, I've gotten head like you've never seen before! Seriously! So, um. We're doing another one. Sure, I'm forced to call it the "Mega Job Invitational" again, since it wouldn't do to have a second annual Earl Invitational and having no first annual one. Um. Anyway.

We're having one. Just because, y'know? And everyone's invited. Um. Except the other Earls, because then, it'd be a little unfair. In return for that, though, the North Dakotan title presently held by Steve the Rambling Communist should be up for grabs! And... yeah. ....What was I talking about?"

The other members of the Order just shrugged.

"Ah, well. Probably wasn't important anyway." Poobah Earl said.

Unfortunately, his words would eventually sign the death-wish of every man who hates stupid matches.

Scooping out in piece of ass he could find, “Damn dimply ass. Honey try weight watchers,” he said looking at an overly induced black female. The lady looked at him with a disgusted look as she snarled her nose and twirled her piece of pink bubble gum around her finger. The lady responded with a sharp remark, “Get some muscles honey… get your old ass down the hallway with the rest of the wannabe’s in the crowd!”

He continued to walk down the hallway, still scanning out all the fine bitches. As he reached the end of the hallway, he could here a few women bitching back and forth. “You’re over the hill,” shouted one of the women.

“Scandalous ass hoes, they don’t want a piece of fine tuned…” he paused, everything stopped. In amazement, he stared deep… deep into those thighs licking his upper and lower lip. Thoughts of heaven entered his mind rather quickly, that bright light at the end of the tunnel. “Hot damn, you have found my lord… I see the light!”

He stared at this fine human specimen, the creature that has roamed planet earth all this time yet, at this very moment, their lives became one. Each leg striding forehead, each breast bouncing upward, her juicy… big… red… lips gleaming in the light. He murmured to himself, “Damn… what a piece of ass!”

Slowly brushing up against him, she stopped and whispered in his ear.

“Your fly is open!”

"Oh Christ Poser, you got nothing!" Cameraman Mark was playing solitare.

"I know." Poser lowered his head in shame.

Providence Vs Steve Christ
(Extreme Rules)

Tool.

Providence, quite possibly the new head man of Joe Campbell's army given Ender's state, came out to the next best thing to hatred considering the position the attending crowd were in; dirty looks. He glimpsed around ringside, and opted to take a chair with him into the Asylum for the extreme rules match.

The Light.

"The Third Coming...has arrived."

nin. heresy.

Maribelle and Contessa came out first, followed quickly by Steve Christ. His fists were taped up, but he brought no weapons with him to the Asylum. He stepped inside the steel mesh, and the bell rang. Providence swung the chair, but Steve ducked and immediately charged in with a high knee, sending Providence out to the floor. Christ layed in taped right hands to the face of Providence, and went for a whip to the barricade. Providence's reversal sent Steve into the first row. Providence went in the mesh to retrieve his chair, and went after Steve.

He was well and truly surprised when Christ hit a superkick causing a chair to slam into his face. Christ leaned against the barrier for support, looking aggreved at the fans exhorting him on and patting his back while the referee counted. Providence made his knees at four and delivered a huge ballshot to Christ, before delivering a huge chairshot to his opponent's face. Steve fall back into the ringside area, and Providence went after him quickly. He stood to the left of Christ, put his arm around his back, and hooked his right leg around Steve's left before falling into a forward Russian legsweep on the floor. Smirking, Providence let the referee make a count.

Two went by, as did four, but at six, Christ got to something resembling a vertical base. Still groggy from that, he received a boot to the gut as Providence prepared the Schism. He brought up Christ in powerbomb position and Steve dropped him with a headbutt, causing both men to hit the ground. Steve rolled back into the Asylum, still clearing his head from the recent head trauma. He looked to the sisters for some advice, but quickly found himself being lifted off the ground for a snap release German suplex from the former NEWA star. Providence quickly got behind Steve, and hit another snap release German. He brought Steve up, and quickly spiked him with the Fall. Well, that ended it.

Three.

Six.

Eight.

"Hey, he's moving!"

"FUCK."

Providence immediately charged Steve, who caught him in a tilt-a-whirl before dropping him headfirst in the Crucifiction. Both men were down, and down hard. The count made it to four, then seven, before Steve rolled his way to his feet. He grabbed the incoming leg of Providence, who drilled him with an enzigiuri. Dazed from another shot to the head, he was easy pickings for a quick double-arm DDT.

Who was The Truth now?

Christ was out.

Five.

Eight.

Nine.

But he wouldn't stop. Desperately pawing at Providence's form that loomed over him, he kept grabbing tights in order to pull himself up. Providence would do it for him.

Then he hit a hard version of the Schism. Christ's neck recoiled so much on the guillotine powerbomb that he fell back down to ringside out by the announce table. Providence had this one well in hand. He shoved Christ aside and cleared off the table, except for the monitors. This done, he took the dead weight of the Third Coming and put him up on the table, preparing to drill him with the Fall again.

The crowd sat wide eyes.

What usually would have been an extremely large pop was silenced by the presence of The Movement soldiers, the crowd simply sat in awe.

It probably had something to do with the fact that Maribelle was kissing Contessa. Whistles, cheers, thrown dollar bills, a couple of the less savory types whipping it out and checking for cancer--just another wacky night in the Asylum. Providence let Steve fall away from him as he looked on at the incestual lesbian scene going on in front of his happy eyes. Maribelle's hands roamed Contessa's body as they fell to the concrete.

All this just made Steve Christ really easy to forget. Taking a monitor from the table in front of him, he quickly smashed it into the back of Providence's knee.

Maribelle pulled away from Contessa, who immediately shoved her and proceeded to curse at her. She then pointed to the table, where Steve had locked in the dragon sleeper. Providence tried to knee him in the face, but couldn't reach. He tried fighting his way out but his body couldn't deal with the cutting off of blood flow. Christ paused, then lifted up Providence before drilling an inverted brainbuster through the announce table, effectively sending his opponent Into the Void. Shards of table exploded as Providence fell head-first onto a monitor while the impact was made.

At four, Steve Christ was sitting up, hands on his knees.

At seven, the cameras got a good look at Providence face-down in a pool of his own blood.

At ten, the bell rang. "Heresy" came on, and Steve Christ had done it. Contessa and Maribelle, still sniping at each other, walked up the ramp ahead of Steve. He was busy picking up the dollar bills and issuing this edict to the camera:

"Hey, ArchAngel! One more time, at Fight Hell, for your pretty little belt! The Pain is coming for YOU, freak show."

The guard sighed, before taking the barrel of her gun and smacking Poser square in the face. Poser flied backwards, landing on the ground and clutching his chin. "Damnit! All I want is a snow cone! The vendors are OUTSIDE! Just let me get one, please?" The guard let out a sigh. "I'll take that as a yes!"

Poser charged the door in a gleeful fashion, almost skipping. The woman guard grabbed Poser in mid-stride, lifting him up and pushing him into the top frame of the doorway. With Poser still in her hands, she threw him back down to the concrete, before hoisting her gun, and shooting him.

Square in the ass.

"AIEEEEE~!"

Cameraman Mark appeared with a snow-cone in his hand, slowly taking chunks out of it while looking down at the injured Poser. He shook his head.

"I found a snow cone vendor down the hall..." Mark said trailing as he saw the bullet hole that had ripped up his jeans. "Wait Wait Wait... You've been shot?!?!" Mark said in shock, before turning to the guard that Nerva had hired.

"Can I just tell you how much I admire you?"

“This be where we funken go out to de ring,” Cheno said pointing to the curtain. “Once I walk through de curtain, I’m all funken hyped up and ready kick some…well, you know what I be funken talkin’ ‘bout.”

Jett nodded her head as she looked around the area at the equipment. Down the hallway to her left, she seemed to catch a glimpse of something that caught her eye. “Can we head down this way, Eddie?” “Sure, whatever you want, Jett,” he said as the two started to walk down the hallway.

“Well well well…If it isn’t Eddie FUNKEN Cheno,” came a voice from behind Cheno and Jett. Cheno turned around and his eyes narrowed in anger.

It was Providence.

Having just walked to the back after his match with Steve Christ, Providence stood with a trickle of blood coming down his cheek and sweat covering his body. Cheno started over towards Providence, but Jett’s hand on his shoulder calmed him a bit. “Gee, Eddie, what’s that you brought in from the gutter this time?” Providence said with a sneer.

Again, Cheno started to lunge forward to take a swing at Providence, but Jett tried to calm him down. “Eddie, don’t worry about him,” she said with her hand still on his shoulder. “You’re better than that, Eddie. You’ve changed, remember?” Cheno nodded his head, still locking eyes with Providence. “That’s right,” he said. “I’m a changed mang. Luckily dis woman be here or I’d funk you up, mang.”

Providence just smiled for a moment, never moving his eyes away from Cheno’s. A moment later, Cheno finally turned and started to walk down the hallway once more with Jett. However, after only a few steps, Providence took the opportunity to take one more jab.

“You may have changed, Eddie,” he said with a chuckle as he turned to walk the opposite direction, “but those nasty skanks I see your dope-smokin’ ass with always seem to stay the same.”

For Cheno, who had intended for this night to be an attempt at reconciliation with Jett, that had finally crossed the line. Cheno twirled around and sprinted after Providence, spearing him in the back and taking him to the floor. With Providence down, Cheno rained down with a flurry of punches, each one connecting viciously with Providence’s skull. Even after Providence rolled over onto his back to face Cheno, Eddie kept throwing blow after blow. Finally, with blood completely covering Providence’s face in a crimson mask, Cheno stopped the punching and looked down without moving, almost as if he were shocked by what he had done. Jett was in shock too, and after a few moments, she took off down the hallway, running away from Cheno again. Before Cheno stood up and ran after her down the hallway, he took one more look down at Providence.

He was laughing.

A good looking African American woman, the one he wanted to take back to hiz-ouse and have mad sex. It is rough being a man, a man that the entire women species sought after. “You stupid fucker… I’ll get Chico on your ass and he’ll bust a cap,” shouted one of the ladies he bumped into accidentally.

Living the life of a modern shaft yeah, that was Booty Brown all right. Stuck in that time period… big Afro, bell-bottoms, flamboyant colors, and big solid gold chains. He got to the beverage table and grabbed a spoon, he held up to his face to look at his teeth in the reflection the silverware gave off. It was hard to see so he gave up, rubbed his teeth with the tip of his index finger and moved on.

“Excuse me sir!” He kept walking, further away from the booming voice of a security guard. “Excuse me sir!” The voice echoed in his head, easily pushing it out to clear his mind of any though except… except for that…

“EXCUSE ME SIR!” He turned around to see this large black woman… the one from earlier. “Damn honey… I was just thinking about you!”

“I’d advise you pops to move back that way and away from the arena exit,” the lady said to him, her eyes sparkling… looking deep into his he thought. She was simply trying to threaten him. “Baby we can back to my locker room… the fine owner of this “thing” called the Asylum has one just for me… we can play with some toys… smoke a little…” he grinned, “You know… the goood stuff!”

The lady smirked, “What do you think I am… some slut, I’m a respectable woman… I’m part of the movement!”
Booty Brown looked to his left, then his right. Grasping her muscle filled ass cheek he nuzzled up closer to the lady, “We can move right over that way,” looking towards the left down a corridor pointing towards his locker room, “And move right into action…”

Just as quick as he got a full-blown erection, he was knocked out by the movements “security enforcer” who was making sure no would leave the arena.

"If this doesn't work I don't know what will."

Avo left his little secert area and walked down the same hall that he already attempted to get out of. He passed a couple of fighters, but this was no time to ask for autographs, Avo needed his Spanish-To-English translator. Avo approached the soldier again, as still she was looking straight and no other direction.

"Uhh pizza delivery man. I gotta get back to work, so uhh could you uhh move?"

Avo talked like he was a surfer, the soldier replied.

"No one is to leave."

"Uhh I don't think you understand I gotta go back to uhh work or else I will get fired."

The soldier just pushed Avo back down as his hat fell off.

"AHHH MY DISGUISE! I'VE BEEN REVEALED! ARHHHHHH"

Avo ran down the hall screaming. As he retreated back to his secert area.

"I got it!"

Avo snapped his fingers. Chavez found a black mask on the ground and he pulled that over his head. Avo slowly walked back to the exit.

"Hey trick I gotta leave the building for a minute."

The soldier looked down at Avo as she could still see Avo's bright colored mask that he was wearing. The soldier shook her head and pushed Avo back to the ground. Avo got himself up from the ground and dusted himself off.

"AHHH G word D word. You B word! I don't like you!"

Avo lost it, for he almost used profane words. Avo ran back to the hall but halfway stopped and just charged right into the soldier hoping it would knock her down, but it only knocked down Avo.

"I thought that was common sense." Cameraman Mark said, before letting out a sigh.

"Well you should know by now, I don't adhear to commone sense! I don't even know what it is!"

"So... what's with the table?"

"Gwen... She'll be mine tonight. She may have been able to resist my whily charms, but tonight, we're going to have a lovely italien dinner!"

"Eddie... she's irish."

"So?"

Cameraman Mark let out a sigh, before he turned around and began to leave the scene. "Idiot."

And Joe Campbell.

Jett immediatly clobbered into the owner of the Asylum, knocking both down to the cold concrete of the backstage area. Campbell had a plate of chips in hands, which have now scattered all along the floor.

"What the fuck is happening to-" Campbell said, steeming at the events that have transpired, before he caught a glimpse of Jett. His thoughts must have went off of his problems for however long it was needed, because he was actually extending his hand to pick the woman up to her feet. "Oh, dear lady, I'm sorry, entirely my fault?"

...Did Joe Campbell just say that?

"Here, let me get you a drink..." Joe said, before mumbling "Look at those fine breasts. They'd look great surrounding my dick..."

"Excuse me?

Joe stammered "I-I t-thought you wanted a drink?"

"No, I just wanna go." she said, looking to head for an exit door. They were still blocked by the armed guards however, as Campbell saw this as a great oppertuinity.

"Listen, I know you're probably going through something crazy, but let me make it all better." Joe went being Jett and raised his arms to touch her shoulders. She could shook his hands away, as Joe stood there wide eyed. "Come on baby, you're just so vurnerable right now, you wouldn't want some nasty man to take advantage of you. Here, let me hold you, I'll keep you safe."

Jett turned around, as Joe reached his hands out to touch Jett's breasts. Jett however, was quick on the draw, swiftly kicking Joe Campbell in the gonads.

And he fell down hard.

"I... regret.... nothing!"

Cheno suddently came into view, and grabbed Jett around. He looked her straight in the face. "We gotsa funken talk womang!"

Jett wouldn't hear it, walking away, as Cheno attempted to chase after her. She threatened him with a swift kick to the nads as well, and after seeing what it had done to Campbell, he took a pass. Jett turned her back and let down the opposite hallway.

"Nice tits, huh?" Joe said, still huffing and puffing for air in between each word. Cheno turned around in shock, and swiftly kicked Joe in the head, before racing off.

Nicole reclines in her office chair at the arena, staring down the Movement soldier standing guard at her doorway. Her actions remained impassive and she doesn’t even mumble a word as she marches out of the room.

“Ahh…this is just great. Nobody bothering me, soldiers guarding at every corner. Tonight will be an easy night and if anybody tries to screw around I’ll go on one of my shooting sprees.”

She reaches down and fingers at the Colt .45 at her thigh. It’s dangling from the top of the holster. Nicole grips it, however the door blasting open distracts her attention.

”Ugh. Forget what I said. Look what the dog dragged in.” Nicole grumbles, gripping at the Colt, trying to swing it into her possession.

Before Nicole can slide the weapon out of its holster and blow Gwen’s brains all over the wall, Gwen comes pounding through the room, her arms flailing beside her. Gwen stampedes towards Nicole intent to get revenge on all the eatings and humiliation she has suffered from. Gwen is almost at Nicole, when she leaps out from her seat forgetting about the gun.

Gwen comes at Nicole in blazing fury, thundering punches off every which way of her face. While getting mucus knocked out of her, Nicole clutches her chest from a change-up punch to her lower body. She staggers backwards trying to get away from the relentless strikes, however it is no use and Gwen pounds away ruthlessly at her. Nicole is being pushed into the wall since the punches don’t stop radiating pain from her face.

Nicole finally has enough and plows Gwen down with a hard right hand. She knocks her down with the punch then rubs her red glowing knuckles, but she doesn’t have time to relent, because Gwen is already on her feet asking for more. Nicole jumps back at the same time hitting a lethal axe kick. The infamous move knocks Gwen to the floor for good.

“That’s about as far as you g-“

She is grabbed by the ankle and dragged to the ground. Nicole feels Gwen’s body crawling over her, using her as a stepping-stone to get to her feet. When she hears the footsteps above her, Nicole huddles down to block from the kicks, however she gets hit with a high impact kick to her ribs. In agony, she rolls onto the desk knocking it over.

Gwen pulls Nicole to her feet. She is dazed and confused, but Gwen is still in fighting spirit. Nicole stumbles around in the room looking at the blurs going by. The Irish fighter has no mercy, and with The Hard Luck of the Irish, she pummels Nicole to her grave for good.

Gwen leans with her hands to her hips. She breathes in and out trying to fill her lungs with oxygen. Nicole is laid out on the floor, holding her bruised face. But there is soon an insane laughter that rattles out of Nicole’s throat.

”You’re fucked.”

The movement soldier draws her rifle in the doorway. Gwen has three seconds to live. One second, she reaches down, next second, she pulls out Nicole’s Colt .45. Third second, she cocks the Colt back. The bullet cuts through the air and whizzes into the soldier’s shoulder. Gwen is not seen again, flashing by Nicole and then out of the room.

Nicole struggles onto her knees and picks up the Colt. 45. Tonight wasn’t going to be an easy night after all. She mumbles, half-in pain, half-in anger, “Violence is not the answer, but Gwen, you are fucking dead.”

That’s the question that plagued Clayton Richler. His stride seemed to contain a silent, contained anger as he made his way down the Movement-infested halls of the arena. Arriving at Joe Campbell’s office, he took a deep breath of confidence before reminding himself that it’s only Joe “Jack Daniels” Campbell that he’s dealing with, and opened the door.

“The entrances are blocked.”

“All the fucking entrances are blocked, you twat-headed-shit-faced-sod! Now get out of my office!”

Clayton walked up to Joe’s desk and looked down upon him. He didn’t need to tell Joe that he could kick the living daylights out of him right then and there; Joe caught on to Clayton’s enraged glare and calmed himself down.

“… Right,” said Joe, scratching his head. “What is it, then?”

“Well,” Clayton cleared his throat. “I’ve got some business to take care of. I believe that I mentioned this to you last week, actually, but you seemed to disregard everything that I said. That disappointed me.”

“Look, pal, take a seat… you’re making me nervous.” Joe said, grinning nervously.

“I prefer to stand.”

Joe sighed. “… Look, I’m a busy man… that’s all. I probably heard what you were say--”

“Oh yeah? Well, what’d I request then?” Clayton questioned.

“Uhm…” Joe struggled to recall as beads of sweat suddenly began to appear on his forehead. “You… wanted…”

“Nope.” Clayton cut in. “Didn’t think so. You probably don’t even know that I’m in a tag team, do you? Do you even know that I’m under contract? Say, Joe, who’s my tag team partner?”

The onslaught of questions made Joe’s head droop. “… Fuck.”

“No. His name’s Drake. And he hasn’t been showing up lately because he’s an asshole. But, that’s beside the point. I want a rematch with Syndication at Fight Hell II, for the tag team championship.”

Joe glanced back up. “But what if Drake doesn’t show up?”

“I couldn’t care less. It’ll be handicapped, then… and I can go down in your history books as the first one-man holder of both tag team titles. Got it?”

Joe chuckled. “You really think we still follow who-wins-what around here anymore? It’s a bloody mess!”

“I’ll have to say that I don’t disagree with you on that one, Campbell.” Clayton said, finally backing away from the desk. “Just make sure that you keep what I said in mind. I’m being a nice guy right now… however long that lasts is up to you.”

Clayton reopened the office door and left, hoping that his words, for once, would be heeded.

Eddie Scott Poser. He popped up in front of her without warning and she damned near ran over the nuisance. She should have. She should have kept right on moving just to avoid the pest.

“Why hello there Gw-“

She cut him off, grabbing his arm and forcing him to match her pace. She didn’t feel like getting shot tonight, it had been a long enough week already.

“C’mon ye’ lil’ gnat. We need to be findin’ a hidin’ place.” She informed him.

“Well follow me!!”

Eddie was excited, his plan was going to work afterall.

A few crewmembers looked back at Thom in response to his yelp of pain, Thom smiled and waved, “It’s all right guys, I’m cool. I’m cool.” The crewmembers then sneered and turned back around to attend to their jobs.

Thom uttered a few swears and knelt down to pick up the broken pieces of the cup. It was then he felt the stabbing pain of a steel-toed boot driving hard into his back. In the next moment his hair would be grabbed and his head wrenched up off the ground and thrown into the wall of the building.

The crewmembers looked back to see Token Weed and Douglas standing over the body of Thom Downey, they looked back to see Angel Dalton lingering in the background. The crew members immediately left, leaving Thom at the clutches of those three men.

Douglas knelt down to look into the eyes of Thom, “Think it’s funny to make us look like assholes? Do you like that Thom? Does it get you off? I betcha it does, I bet nothing creams your pants more than to annoy and bother us. Well hey Thom, I’m a guy of compromise. So here is the compromise, since we did such a good job of helping you get off. You have to help us get off.”

Thom managed to stammer out, “Fuck you.”

Token quickly sent another boot to Thom’s chest and Douglas laughed, “How very dramatic there Thom my boy, the good ol’ classic ‘Fuck you,’ well…fuck you Thom. FUCK YOU!” Douglas let lose another loud sinister laugh and then quickly came to a silent stare, “You know how sick fucks like me get off?”

Token stepped forward snapping his switchblade out, “Pain.”

Douglas nodded, “Yes that’s right Sean, pain.”

Token moved the knife back as if to come down on the face of Thom Downer, but a hand grabbed his wrist and prevented him, Token immediately looked into the eyes of Angel Dalton, Angel looked at Token with desperate eyes, “Put the knife away, you’ve done enough.”

Douglas stood and turned immediately, with a large grin, “Ah yes we have Angel, but you haven’t. C’mon Angel, just one kick…one punch… one cut.”

“I’ve seen enough,” Angel let lose Token’s wrist and walked away.

“Fuck this shit,” Token went to move after Dalton but was stopped by Steve’s hand on his shoulder.

Steve whispered calmly, “He’ll be ours soon enough.”

The two left leaving a bloody Thom Downey for the paramedics.

Avo screamed out in a high pitch voice that broke his mirror in his "secret area" which was just a corner in his locker room that had some chairs and blankets over it to make it look like a fort. Avo could hear some of the fans cheer, but not like they normally do, do to the fact that most of them were scared for their lives.

"AH the screams of fear."

Avo paced around his locker room thinking of what he could do, so he could get his Spanish-To-English translator. Avo then spotted a window that was open and it led to the outside world!

"I got it!"

Avo grabbed one of his chairs and moved it near the window, Avo then grabbed a stack of books that were labelled "How to break out of an arena when in a hostage enviroment." Avo climbed up onto the stack of books and onto the chair and opened up a vent top leading into the ventilation system of the arena. Avo struggled to make it in there but somehow did make it up. Avo crawled around finding various objects up there, he pasted the girls locker room as he could tell someone had already been here from the smell of it, it smelt like Joe Campbell. But, that didn't matter Avo needed his books.

The purple monster crawled around and after awhile Avo found another opening! He looked at it, but found out that it was the same spot where he started. By then Avo flipped out and he just crawled like a mad man till he found the outside vents. Avo was so happy that he found it, he didn't care how high it was. Avo opened up the vent door and jumped out.

*CLUNK*

The soldier looked around and then opened the door leading to the outside to only see The Purple Monsters body spreaded out on the cement outside. The fall had knocked Avo out cold. The soldier drug Avo's body back into the arena and closed the doors. Oh Avo was oh so close.

Well, it would have been perfect if not for one thing. She would have to spend a fair amount of time with Eddie Scott Poser.

She couldn’t quite figure out what it was about him that pissed her off so much. Besides the obvious annoyance of having to put up with him. Eh, it was probably just cause he liked her. Gwen doesn’t want to have a lobotomy example liking her.

Eddie had setup a table earlier…on the table sat a candle, two tv dinners, and two glasses of wine. Gwen allowed her lips to curl into a smile upon seeing the wine.

She moved towards one of the chairs, and Eddie nearly tripped over himself in a hurry to slide the chair out for her.

She looked at him with a sneer that would shatter any other man’s confidence, but Eddie only waved her into the chair.

She sat down and took a gulp of the wine…grape juice. Figures.

Eddie reached under the table and out he came with a guitar. He begins strumming notes that could only please a deaf man’s ear.

“Well, I worked this little diddy up for ya Gwen, cause, well…I like ya.” Eddie stated with complete seriousness.

Then he began this awful singing…and all Gwen could do was sit their with her mouth opened wide in shock. Shocked that someone’s voice could actually be this bad.

“Well, your name is Gwen and you are real purty
If I ever have a hen, I’ll consider it a birdie,
I like you as much as you like whiskey,
I’d be so touched if you would simply touch me”

Before Gwen had a chance to slap the spit and the glands the spit came from out of Eddie’s mouth, she heard the bitch behind her.

“Wonderful…just wonderful. Two loverbirds, huh?” Nicole questioned sarcastically.

Gwen stood up quickly enough that the chair flew backwards. Eddie gulped and a string on his cheap guitar broke.
Nicole had something that Gwen could only wish she had…Colt 45. Not the alcohol. The gun.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you? You’re just a stupid, senseless drunk.” Nicole insulted.

“She is not!” Eddie interjected.

Gwen glared at him, admiring his bravery deep down inside.

“Shutup Eddie,” She said, “Nicole, It’s not that I danno when to quit lass, it’s that ye aren’t dead yet. Whence ye’r six feet under…I’ll then know it’s time to quit.”

Nicole smirked, and pulled the trigger. A second before Gwen sidestepped, Eddie beat her to motion…he dove in front of her and the bullet grazed his abdomen. The bullet would have missed her anyways—but it’s the thought that counts.

Eddie fell to the floor, writhing in pain. Gwen and Nicole both looked down at him in shock. Gwen came to her senses first and she quickly kicked the gun out of Nicole’s hand and followed with an uppercut that sent the woman sprawling.

Gwen hurried to the gun, picked it up, and pointed it at Nicole.

She was perfectly ready to pull the trigger…but something in her told her not to. In a different scenario, she could dish out more pain to Nicole.

“Aye, Nicole…ye be a wee bit lucky I don’t blast your bitchy lil’ head clean off ye neck. I will though…unless ye agree to a bout at Fight. Hell. 2.”

Gwen said it just like that too…Fight…Hell…2….

Nicole nodded in disgruntlement. Gwen nodded her head signaling for Nicole to scat.

“I will find ye and kill ye if ye tell anyone where me and Eddie be hidin.”

With that, Nicole gave Gwen one more look of hatred and departed.

Eddie whimpered. Gwen knelt beside him and would continue to do so until the show was over…

Even though she hated him.

Akha Vs A.D.

All they wanted was to watch a fight, now we're giving them one. Now what are they crying about? Akha asked herself. She laughed as she passed a girl with an AK. Ah yes, that's why.

Akha hopped over the guard rail and into the Asylum eventually as women screamed triumphant cheers across the arena, some shooting randomly to the metal roof of the arena.

"Paint It Black" by the Rolling Stones played and many cheered, forgetting for a split second of their surroundings.

However the music was quickly cut off after A.D stepped onto the stage looking around at the faces which eagerly wanted to encourage him. However they couldn't/didn't and he made his way down into the Asylum where he saw Akha, ready to fight.

The Movement women were slowly shifting downwards towards the fighting area now. Alongside it, the bell was about to be rung however one of them stopped the match from starting. A.D looked around with his arms to his side, "We gonna get this shit over with or what?"

Akha took no moment sooner to attack A.D. as he looked up. She ran and threw a punch which surprised A.D., connecting him on the jaw which stumbled him back. She smirked as AD rubbed his chin and squeezed his fist tighter The lesbians throughout the arena screamed at the top of their lungs as Akha jumped back into the fight with A.D. It was like a mixture of Xena and coyote which echoed repeatedly.

Left-right-left-right Akha swung wildly however she missed with each one. A.D. dodged and shot up a surprise uppercut which stumbled the surprisingly bigger Akha back into the Asylum rims. She grabbed her lip which was cut, sucking on the blood and smiled again.

A.D. took the initiative to attack first. He ducked his head as Akha threw a punch, releasing a jab than an uppercut. He grabbed Akha's arms and locked them up, tossing her overhead with a variation suplex. As Akha got up she saw AD running at her and she raised her foot to kick him in the face. However, A.D. slightly ducked in time only having the boot graze the side of his nose. It was enough power to catch him though and when he found enough balance to punch Akha she grabbed his arm and flipped him over her shoulder, pressing her knee into his neck while twisting his arm sideways. A.D. screamed and gasped in pain as he tried to wiggle himself free.

A.D., out of pure adrenaline now, punched upwards into Akha's tit which released some of the pressure onto his neck and he pushed himself off the ground, grabbing Akha's waist and flipping her onto the ground beside her. He kicked Akha a couple times with vicious soccer kicks to the head and wiped the sweat off his forehead, scanning around noticing The Movement members inching closer every time he got in a good beating.

Akha rolled onto her stomach and used the cage to help herself up. She shook her head and screamed in rage as she went at A.D. like a bear. He threw a punch to her gut but it had no effect as she sucked it in and grabbed his head, than tossed him like a baby to the rim where she threw rapid punches randomly across his body.

Akha then picked him up with two hands by the throat and tossed him to the center where he rolledall the way into the Asylum cage where he tried to catch his breath. He looked around and saw a Movement member who kicked into the cage. He rolled onto his stomach gasping for air in exhaustion. Akha looked down at him with dreary eyes and kicked him in the face.

Then again.

And again.

Akha picked him up and bear hugged him while butting her in the head. Akha loosened her grip and A.D. grabbed the top of her head, dropping down for an ace crusher. Akha dropped back and he signaled to the crowd as they cheered.

He hooked her up....

FALL FROM GRACE!
The fans erupted into cheers. The ref looked at A.D. then at Nerva wondering what to do. "Count!" A.D. screamed. The ref started counting and A.D. stood impatiently, looking quite nervous as the Movement members began surrounding the Asylum. One woman attempted to jump in-

Personify: A.D.
Fuck, I knock her out. Here comes another one from behind! I knock her out too! There fucking everywhere!

Personify: Akha
I'm up. Seven count. I take the bat that they gave me. The bat that resembled the one Jessica used on Nayomi, the bat that beat the fuck out of Lotus. I run forward…I SWING!

Personify: A.D..

…

In a split second, A.D. fell forward.

"KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT!"

Akha hit him with the vicious baseball swing and he was knocked backwards, his head bouncing off the mat. The ref immediately called for the bell. Some of the Movement women were in the ring now, congratulating Akha.

She stood over A.D. that night, with her head up looking high into the sky box at Nerva who looked at her with pride.