Answers as always, were on the way.

Joe Campbell.

Intense boos.

“Thankyou, now… as you can see by the pretty picture that is my face up here… I simply cannot be arsed to come out and speak to you ugly yanks face to face, so here I am on this big stupid screen that you idiots paid for with ticket money… insulting you all, without purpose?

Wrong.

Campbell’s time is money, I don’t do anything without a reason and tonight is no different… first of all though, it has come to my attention that a small minority of people have taken upon themselves to sit in the crowd tonight and protest against the Asylum’s strong adult content and controversial footage… well, I can only say that I admire the spirit of you nice, tax paying knights of all that is good… and because I care so much, I have put together a little montage, just for those of you out there who are a little easily offended.”

Joe disappears.

Kermit the frog arrives.

He’s giving Miss Piggy a good humping, hard fast, hard fast… fast hard, suddenly… Kermit’s face turns bright red and he keels over, a swift heart attack follows, but luckily… several rabid dogs are quickly on the scene to clean up the mess, with their teeth.

“There you go fuckers, put that in your petition.” Joe sneered, before chortling to himself.

“Now then, I expect many of you are wondering what all the fuss with the show names is about, its not the Sunday Show anymore is it? It’s THE SHOW!?

You damn right it’s The Show.

Why?

A plethora of reasons, which roughly translated for you idiots in the crowd, means “a lot”.

I’m not going to waste my time, first of all… this is a shot to my good chum Chris Universal… Hi Chris! Did you think that by running to Monday you could escape the Asylum and get some of those slowly dying ratings back?

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt.

Wrong answer.

It’s the show mate, because not only is it the only show worth watching on a Sunday these days… its no longer even limited to a Sunday!” Joe cried, ecstatic.

“Yep…” Joe begins looking at his watch “You see, although its currently Tuesday for you cheap bastards at home… right now, its Sunday for me, you see… I am not Vince McMahon, I will happily explain to you that this show is taped on a Sunday… I just made an executive decision.

You want it on Sunday?

Then fucking pay for it like everyone else.

I figure, I don’t make half as much money as I could… these fat cunts in the crowd shell out a good twenty five quid a week on tickets, I could do that for you lot at home too… you want the show on Sunday? Fine… pay for it, otherwise… you can wait until whenever, whenever I feel like it that is.

So yeah, fuck off.” Joe smiles, intense boos surrounding him.

“But onto other things… there’s a little something I want to get off my chest.

Milo Samus” Joe took a deep breath.

“You fucking fucking, fucking fucking fucking… fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking TWAT!” Joe roared, spitting all over the camera.

“Who the fuck do you think you are little man? You turn up here… hell’s doorstep, and think that because you suck dick at wrestling… you might be any better at fighting? Or as I like to refer to the technique you seem to have mastered ‘Milo gets his bonce caved in’.

You make me fucking sick Samus, it sickens me that every week I have to take a piece of paper and write some money away to you, I wish I could poison the ink you little shit, or better yet… get Villam to hand deliver that cheque right up your fucking back alley… you heard, shove it up your arse!” Joe sneers, the crowd continuing to boo.

“But I came to a conclusion the other day, if you want something doing right… do it yourself, lets not forget here… I am Joe FUCKING Campbell… GV? I kicked his arse before he became too stupid to remember what a kick to the head feels like… Kenny Rock, feh… you can say he shot himself out of self pity but if you ask me, he saw the alternative of going to war with me and decided a brain fucking was the better option.

You and me Samus, at Turmoil… if you lose, I don’t ever want to see you again.

And if you win?

Heh… if you win, I’ll fucking kill myself out of disgust… you fucking faggot.” Joe growled, the big screen fading to a solid black as Joe’s final words of rage echoed through the arena.

“Can I help you?” said the manager.

“No, you can’t help me. But I can help you. See that match Nerva vs. Eddie Cheno? Put it at the start of the show. Be a good bitch boy.”

The manager shook his head. “I’m sorry, Nerva, but I can’t do that. Joe gave me specific instructions and I don’t think I’m in a position—”

Suddenly, Nerva grabbed him by the testicles and squeezed lightly, and then hard. “I think you’re in a position right now to save your balls. Didn’t your mommy ever tell you never to question those who are superior to you? When a man gives you instructions, you follow them.

But when a woman tells you otherwise, you obey her words.”

When Nerva squeezed to an unbearable degree, the manager yelped and then nodded his head up and down. “Okay, okay!” he said. “Nerva, come on! Let go, I’ll change the schedule. I’ll get Eddie Cheno down here. Just please! Let go.”

She released his balls, and he immediately ushered someone to get Eddie Cheno out from his locker room. For a minute, Nerva paced back and forth, anger boiling through her blood.

She gripped the Asylum Championship in a cold hand yearning for warmth.

Eddie Cheno came down, still taping his fists and not quite ready. “Wat da funk is dis? Mang, I don’t wanna fight right now! I funken thought I was in da main event!”

Nerva shook her head. “You thought wrong, you ugly son of a bitch. Things don’t go according to what you want; they go according to what the Asylum Champion wants. And tonight, I want to set the tone tonight and show why a woman like me is far above a worthless, pot-smoking man like you. Don’t worry, Cheno, I’m going to make this quick and easy. You’ll lose that badly, and you’ll lose that fast. Because just like a prostitute, you’re not worth a full-fledged orgasm.”

“Mang, I’m gonna funk you up!” Cheno heard his music from the arena and then headed to the entrance.

Nerva(c) Vs Eddie Cheno
(Asylum Championship)

“Unified” by Biohazard replaced his music.

It didn’t look like he was in the main event anymore. Nerva came out from behind the curtain, with Zoe trailing behind. She guarded the Asylum Championship from all the drinks and bottles thrown her way while she walked down the aisle. She got into the cage, threw the title to the referee and immediately spat in Eddie Cheno’s face. Before Cheno could respond, she roundhouse kicked him in the gut and then hit him with another to the face.

Eddie shook his head from the attack, and then flinched when Nerva took a fake step. Every second counted, and Nerva took a split second to jump back kick Cheno right in the jaw.
Cheno fell down from the impact and sat against the metal cage. But that didn’t stop Nerva. She stomped away at his chest, driving her heel right into his heart. She reached down and grabbed a handful of Cheno’s large testicles, causing the man’s eyes to widen.

Fearing for his ability to produce ejaculate fluid, Cheno immediately got up and head butted Nerva repeatedly until she let go of the hold. When he had her staggering, Cheno wound up and swung with a roundhouse uppercut right across the jaw, snapping her head back at a diagonal angle. He now had the psychotic woman in his control and was moments away from becoming Asylum Champion. Something that Joe Campbell would have hated.

He grabbed Nerva by the hair and started ramming her head repeatedly into the steel rim until a large cut opened up. He threw her into the other side of the cage and buried his knee right in her abdomen. Nerva fell on all fours from the impact, and Eddie took the opportunity to ride her like a cowboy. He held her by the back strap of her bra and shook her up and down, slapping her in the ass repeatedly.

Cheno stopped the sexual play (for the time being) and held her by both arms and planted a knee right between her shoulder blades. Nerva’s back arched in pain, which allowed Eddie to suplex her backwards. He immediately wrapped his legs around her head, locking in a variation of Contessa’s “Auto Erotica Bloom.” With Nerva’s face buried in his crotch, Cheno gave thumbs up to the camera with a big smile. But the smile faded away as Nerva sunk her teeth into his genitals.

It was the way of The Movement.

Eddie hadn’t remembered to slip a cup on before he was called out early for his match. Nerva was taking full advantage. Cheno jerked his body up and down like a fish on land. He jammed both of his thumbs into Nerva’s eye, pushing in farther until she released the bite. Nerva pulled her face away from Cheno’s thumbs and stumbled over to the cage wall, trying to regain her composure.

She saw a blur of Eddie Cheno charging at her and unleashed a sidekick to his chest. When he stumbled back, she caught him with another sidekick - but this time to the mid-section - and followed it up with yet another one aimed to the face. However, Eddie Cheno caught her foot, spun her around and smacked her with a full force sidekick (or in his words, the ‘Needle Jab’). The referee began his count.

At five, Nerva stood up, holding her jaw in pain. But it was all a ploy, as she caught Eddie with three consecutive tornado kicks when he charged; one to the gut, one to the chest, and one to the face. It knocked him down and this time he was being counted. The pot-smokers (90% of the crowd) stood on their feet and started a “CHENO!” chant. Cheno sat up at five, but Nerva pushed past the referee and drove her heel right into his jaw.

The ref stopped his count. Nerva mounted on top of Cheno and locked in a figure-four arm bar. It was a devastating hold to be in, but Eddie was holding strong. A “NERVA SUCKS!” chant took over the audience as The Movement leader cranked up the pressure. She didn’t care about what the fans said. Just as long as they were seeing this example she was making out of Cheno. Blood was dripping out the sides of his mouth as he closed his eyes in agony.

But suddenly, a beer bottle came flying into the cage. It wasn’t empty and when it shattered on Nerva’s head, she fell to the ground with glass shards surrounding her. Blood spilled from her forehead to make an unpleasant mixture with the beer. Eddie Cheno stood on one knee, holding his elbow joint with his chin tucked to his chest. He rotated his arm around a couple of times, and then saw that he had the advantage over Nerva.

He brought her up to her feet and started opening the gash in her forehead with right fists. He kneed her in the gut, and then mounted on the steel rim. He pulled her up by her bra’s back strap and set her up for ‘Sucks To Be You.’ As he held her up in the brain buster suplex position over the steel rim, Nerva desperately fought back with a fist to his ribs. Cheno absorbed it and tried to finish his move, but Nerva put her hands on the rim and landed on her feet inside the cage.

Eddie Cheno was on the top rim, waving his arms forward to keep his balance. But he waved himself right into a Double Touch by Nerva, as she knocked him in the jaw with the first kick, and then in the eye with the second kick.

Cheno fell back right through the announcer’s table. Heather and JPP moved just in the nick of time, leaving Eddie in a heap of broken wood. The bell sounded, and “Unified” by Biohazard cranked over the speakers once again. Noticing that her right breast was showing from underneath her bra, Nerva slip the lace over so that there wouldn’t be too many pervert pictures of her on the Internet.

She bent over and took the top of the beer bottle that broke earlier in the match. Winding up like a pitcher, she whipped it back into the crowd, striking a teenage boy between the eyes and opening a cut. Reason being? He was wearing a Hypnosis t-shirt. She snatched her championship belt away from the referee and held it up high to the crowd’s chagrin.

Hans threw Eddie into the cage and Adam followed in. They continued to stomp away at him, and then Hans held him still so that Nowell could unleash his fury of body shot punches.

Nerva was tempted to join in on the assault, but she thought better of it and left the cage.

Over at the entrance, Joe Campbell pushed Providence toward the cage, urging him to get in there. Nerva gave Providence a look as he passed by her and entered the cage. Adam and Hans were each holding one of Eddie Cheno’s arms. The two of them and Joe on the outside screamed at him to take shots at Cheno.

Providence cocked his fist back and shook it as Nerva watched up from the aisle. The fans were booing at the sight of a helpless and bloody Cheno. But suddenly, they rose and cheered when Hypnosis came rushing from the back and knocked Nerva down with a hard forearm shot. He sprinted down to the cage and pulled out a lead pipe he had in the back of his jeans.

He took wild swings at everybody until they all cleared the cage. Hypnosis whipped the pipe down and dropped to check on Eddie Cheno.

“Okay, Hypnosis! Okay!” said Joe, who was standing with Syndication and Providence outside the cage, while Nerva remained standing near the entrance with her title. “You want to stick your nose in my business? You know, I almost let you do your own thing and challenge for the Asylum Title. But once you start fucking with me, you’re fucking fucked. How’s that for alliteration?”

Hypnosis grabbed a microphone from the announcer and held it up. “fuUK?”

Instant cheers.

Joe ignored it and continued. “If you want to come out and help that dirty, drugged up piece of shit, that’s fine. If you love him so much, you’ll team with him tonight. Since this dyke behind me decided to change the plans—”

Nerva immediately marched forward, but stopped when Syndication and Providence guarded Joe.

“—There’s going to be a new main event tonight. Oh yes, it’s gonna be Hypnosis and Eddie Cheno, team craptaculaire, versus Nerva, and none other than my own PROVIDENCE!”

A large portion of the crowd cheered, but some of them were confused as to why Joe wanted Nerva to fight for him. Nerva stood speechless as Providence looked over at her and shrugged his shoulders. Hypnosis nodded in approval, not caring whom his partner was. All he knew was that he had a sneak preview of Nerva, and it was going to be good.

The Sunday Show faded to a commercial.

The fans booed, and even attempted to pelt Hans with some garbage, but they unfortunately missed him. He sprinted down the rampway, and entered the Asylum. After shoving the Ring Announcer away, Hans took the microphone from him and spoke:

"I'm VERY unhappy..."

The fans cheered this fact, as they weren't especially fond of Hans. Hans sneered for a second, before he continued:

"I'M VERY UNHAPPY ZAT I COULDN'T VATCH RAVE CAPRINO CRY LIKE A LITTLE BITCH!" screamed Hans to the fans, prompting more boos from the angry crowd. Hans laughed as they chanted 'Asshole!' and 'Fag!'

"Oh, I'm ze fag? Who vas the one that vas reamed in zis cage a veek ago? RAVE CAPRINO! He fucked with Villam, he paid ze price..." said Hans, as the fans didn't take his views very well.

"You don't like zis facts? Vhy don't two of you pieces of shit come in here and try to defeat me? Hell, I'll put ze tag team titles on ze line tonight!" said Hans, beaming as the crowd booed.

Suddenly, two fans in the front row attempted to jump over the guardrail, but security stopped them.

"LET ZEM IN!" screamed Hans, motioning them, as the fans cheered them on. After they signed a waiver of responsibility and charge pressing quickly, they jumped over the Asylum wall, and rushed Hans...

Hans Krueger vs. Two Asylum Fans

Hans lifted up one of the fans, and hooked his head under his arm. Hans quickly throat thrusted the fan to the concrete surface, busting the fan open. Hans smiled as the fans exploded into boos as Hans lifted up the other fan.

Hans kicked the fan in the gut, and axe kicked the fan to the floor. The referee began to count both of the fans out, but the fans managed to get up at the count of four to the delight of the crowd, and the anger of Hans.

Hans quickly grabbed the heads of the two fans, and bashed them together as the fans booed. Several fans in the front rows tossed their chairs, trying to hit Hans, but instead hit the fans by mistake. Hans smiled and picked up one of the chairs.

As one of the fans slowly started to rise, Hans tossed him the chair.

"CATCH!" screamed Hans, and the fan unfortunately followed the order.

A second later, he was just another fuckhead.

Hans waited as the second fan got up, and Hans tossed him the chair, following it up with a Dresden Powerhouse, and knocking the fan out almost instantaneously. Hans put his foot on both fan's chests, and waited for the ten count.

"Crush 'Em" blasted Hans won the handicap 'Fan Match', and smiled. He picked up his belt, and the microphone, and spoke into the mike:

"SEE YA LATER, FUCKHEADS!" was all Hans said, as he tossed the mike away, and stomped back up the rampway, and backstage.

Nerva unleashed her fakest smile yet. “Slender enough to be comfortable, yet long enough to tickle every curve – this is the Mistress dildo!”

Zoe watched the dildo vibrate, her eyes widened in forced enthusiasm. “The flexible silicone Mistress is easy to bend to your every whim. It’s made from premium quality silicone, which warms to body temperature and cleans up easily. Buy it today at Libida.com! Believe me, the pleasure is worth it!”

“And get this!” said Nerva. “You won’t ever need a man to pleasure you again! Why? Because let’s face it, they’re no match for a cool machine like this! Come on, women of America, dump your man ASAP and come to Libida.com for all your pleasure needs! Don’t just do it for yourself. Do it for Nerva. Do it for The Movement.”

Just to make sure the product would sell, Nerva pulled Zoe close and kissed her.

Clayton Richler walked, very nonchalantly, out of the locker room where he had just made himself the subject of Contessa’s latest promiscuous fling. In the hallway, his eagerly awaiting tag team partner, Drake Kerrigan, quickly confronted him.

“So, how was it?” Drake looked down upon Clayton with hopeful eyes.

“Very unsatisfactory.” Clayton stammered out, glaring up at Drake, “The only thing that I got out of that was, quite possibly, a venereal disease. Between ourselves, it was one of those fucks where you go straight from limpness to orgasm, skipping the hard-on stage. I think Contessa must’ve activated some secret glandular gimmick, to wrap it up quickly… the little whore.”

Drake frowned. “And I’m stuck with sloppy seconds.”

“No… no, you’re probably around the one-hundred-and-thirty-sixth mark. That bitch has been nailed more times than… well, you’ll see.” Clayton smirked and walked off.

Drake shook his head and mumbled to himself. “… At least there’s no payment involved.”

He then walked forward and opened up the door to the locker room. Peeking inside, he was suddenly grabbed from around the neck and hauled inside to the orgasmic wonders that awaited him.

“What the fuck do you want, Roland?” Campbell asked, a small grin playing over his face, remembering the last time he saw LLB.

“I’d like a Match tonight, please.” ‘The Law’ stated, not taking his eyes off the Owner.

Joe could only grin more. “And why should I do that, Roland? Why should I book you. Fuck, remember what you did to me at Broken? Why should I be nice to you now?”

“Funny, I’m still not going to Fight Hell.”

“I’ll tell you what, Roland.” Campbell replied dropping his smile. “Go to the ring... I think I have something for you.”

Nodding, LLB turned to leave. “It’s not over yet Joe. You’ll still get your verdict. But thank you for the Match.”

He left, closing the door behind him.

“Asshole.”

“Yes and no.” Drake responded apathetically.

“Come on. Ooh, you must be so excited.”

“Well, yeah.” Drake said, “I guess I am.”

True, Drake was now sitting naked on a locker room bench, with only a towel covering his manhood… alone with the formidably sexy Contessa. It certainly wasn’t a love story taking place at a romantically candlelit cabana, but he was just there for a good fucking, anyhow.

Contessa proceeded to sit down in a leg-spread position on Drake’s lap, and make smoothing motions on the hair-dotted slope of his inner thigh.

“If I was you,” Contessa resumed, “I’d be very excited.”

“You would, would you...” The six-foot-nine-inch Drake Kerrigan gulped with anticipation.

“I’d be just wild.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to it… definitely.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Yes, it should be fun.”

“I’d just be so excited.”

Losing some of his gumption, Drake frowned and said, “About what, exactly?”

Contessa gave an incredulous pout.

“I mean, you’re a great-looking chick and everything,” Drake said, “but--”

“God! Just shutup, you big dumb--”

“Oohh!!” Drake cried out in sheer ecstasy as Contessa firmly slid herself onto his… um, ‘power-rod.’

“Aaahhh… Yeah, that’s the spot.” Contessa proclaimed, grinding around on Drake’s lap.

“Now… you… you just… calm down… Ooohhh! Big boy! YEAH!”

“You certainly know how to turn a guy on.” Drake said with a grin, all passion spent, and proceeded to copulate the night away.

There was no knock when Cheno burst into Joe Campbell's room, and not nearly enough time for Joe to press the intercom button to get the security guards into his room. Cheno quickly grabbed Campbell's hand and pulled it away from his desk. "Hey! That's fucken assault!"

"Funk you mang. You be funken settin' me up since da funken first day I be here." Cheno grabbed Campbell by his shirt and threw him up against the locker room wall. "You just be angry dat a former wrestler be funken better dan yer funken fighters."

"Not so much so, no. Because my fighters would be able to take Nerva down." Campbell sneered, before smiling in Cheno's direction. He hit a nerve.

"Like funken Providence was able ta? Like BORST was able ta? Nerva ain't gonna be stopped by yer funken rules or yer funken ways mang."

"No, but where as YOUR sorry arse has NO chance fighting someone like Nerva, a fighter, a train disciplined fighter has the ability to match up with her quite well. That's why I can't wait for Fight Hell 2..."

"Dis funken feud dhing, it's funken stupid mang." Cheno said, still holding Campbell up, but not as hard pressed as before. "I wanna funken finish dis dhing."

"Finish?" Joe was shocked. "This isn't being finished until one of us is stone cold Cheno. Or you're out of the Asylum. Take your bloody pick."

"Sunday, I want a funken tag team title match, and I funken want dat shit..." Cheno threw Campbell up against the wall again with force. "NOW!"

"Okay, Okay!" Campbell replied. "Fine! You can have your fucken match! If it'll make you happy!" Cheno released Joe's grip, which caused him to fall to the ground. Campbell was barely able to land on his feet. "And when you lose this Sunday, this thing is OVER!"

"Fine mang!"

"I can only wonder, who's gonna be bold enough to team with YOU."

Cheno turned away from Campbell, and left his office. He wasn't going to dignify that with a response.

At least, not until Sunday.

One of the shirts they were tossed was a “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, and ect. There is a point, You.” shirt. The result was one of the teachers whacking the vendor over the head with her sign. Things like this always happened in the parking lot. The occurring insanity didn’t amaze the man who jogged by with his dog.

He briskly strode past the parking lot in a pleasant mood. His eyes sparkled with happiness. The night-black dog trotted beside him then suddenly, squatted. Wetness shot out of its anus and sprinkled onto the grass.

Shortly after that, there were fine pieces of shit glistening on the road. That was when the criminal made his mistake. He could have pulled out a paper bag and slid those pieces of shit into a bag, but no. Both of them went on their merry way. Before he took one step, Nicole slid to a halt by him and was immediately in his face.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Are we going to pick up your dog’s shit? You actually think that the people of the Asylum are going to take this disgrace to their property? Now, pick up the shit and carry it instead of being an inconsiderate fuck. Yeah, that’s right, pick it up with your bare hands. If you don’t then I’ll lock you up in prison where your ass will be stinging every day, or I could always use this.”

Her nightstick dangled from a leather belt. The man looked down at the waste on the ground and decided that she must not be serious about picking it up with his bare hands. His hands were so pretty too. Nicole’s lips tightened when she saw him admiring his hands, but that was common for men.

“If you do not pick that up, I will shove it in your mouth.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You cannot possibly do that. It is beyond your acceptable behavior. The possibilities, which I deem must be considerably negative, would not allow that to happen to me. It would be police brutality, or something like that.”

Nicole had no idea what this posing dumbass talked about, and she grew impatient. The shit gushed between her fingers then was splattered on the criminal’s mouth. He stumbled backwards, while he wiped it from the sides of his mouth, but his mouth was quickly filled with another dosage.

Cheeks bloated, he fumbled around with the dog on his leash. She heckled at him prancing around while the brown foamed out from his lips.

She walked forward and said, “Eat it.” But when he didn’t she made an imprint of her fist in his stomach. The man's vision blurred out. Soon, he was sprawled out on the ground. Another man’s voice interrupted the humiliation she was leeching from the man and Nicole turned to look towards it. From behind her, Roger, who was still wearing the pink thong that clearly showed his nut sacks, was about to say something.

“You really need to learn how to, SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“But…but…but…master, the camera crew you sent is here.”

“Oh, well then bring them here.”

Cranking. The camera crew rolled onto the scene.

Nicole twirled her hair then said, “You see, Asylum fans. I detest you really. You’re fucking sick as I said last week. After the actions that went on during the last show, you should be ashamed. Getting off on two guys…tsk, tsk. Now you want me to do something sick because if I don’t you won’t be satisfied. Everyone is glued to the TV to see another grotesque action.

WELL TOO BAD! I, for one, am civilized and will not be doing any of this. Instead, you will all sit in silence for the remainder of the interview. This is not because I planned to do something sick, but it is because you shall all pray to your gods; women.”

The silent time started. Buzz...millions of flies swarmed around the man’s open mouth that was constantly spewing out shit. The chunks of corn from the dog’s meal beforehand were seen in the streaming, mixed spit and turds that continually oozed out. Mashed clumps of the shit slid down his front teeth as the now diarrhea like goo dribbled down his chin. Red particles from the carcass of a chewed up rabbit lined the tip while it slid in and out filmed in saliva. A fly that had just pumped blood from an old man’s hairy balls dug into the shit as it slid onto his chin. The man gulped down. Shit washed down a liquidly puke shooting up his pipes, and seeped it all down into his stomach, where the mass of flies, shit, cum and puke flowed together every time he moved.

“Oops.”

"Bugger all, King Poser, this is the sixth bloody time you've asked this. It's simple, we go in there, and we convince Earl Jobber to put on this delightful spandex suit." Janito said, holding up a teal and red-colored spandex suit that had the Jobberteers logo on the front and Captain Jobber written below it in nice-looking yellow letters.

"Well, I dunno. Wouldn't we have to, like, summon Captain Jobber before we can make him put this on? And if he doesn't have the suit to begin with, would he show up naked?" Beef asked.

"DISTURBING." Steve said, punching Beef in the side of the knee as he did so, causing Beef to hop around like an idiot, say "ow" a lot of times, and trip over a mop bucket.

"Well, Earl Steve, it is true that we do not like seeing ballocks around here, but this is Captain Jobber! He's the bloody paragon of virtue, so I think we should show him some proper manners before we walk in and ask him to wear this." Janito said in what had to be the worst fake British accent in the history of fake British accents.

Cheno blinked before he spoke up.

"Mang, wat da funk be we doin' `ere?"

Janito smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"Bloody hell! Did you even listen, you feckin' cabbage?" Janito asked.

"Cabbage? You actually called a person a cabbage? I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS!" Poser yelled, before he muttered "Two can play this game."

"Look, let's all just shut up and go talk to him." Beef said, getting back to his feet.

Beef pressed open the door that lead towards what looked to be an office of some kind.

Joe Campbell's office.

And he was none to pleased.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?" Campbell said, before he got a glimpse of the battered Cheno. He let out a smile, before it quickly left his face. "Wait, didn't we already fucken talk? You got your match Eddie, think you can get the fuck out of my office now? I've got more pressing matters."

"More pressing, than..." Beef trailed off, before Janito and Steve pulled out a spandex costume. "SAVING THE JOBBER WORLD?!?"

Joe blinked. "Damnit you guys, you have to stop getting me to blink like that, okay? I'm sure that the stupidity in this room is at an all time high..."

"Absobloodylutely!" Poser and Janito screamed, before Janito caught Poser with an evil eye. "ARSE! Where did you learn the mother country's language!"

"Oh, dude, there was this cool site called Londonslang dot com that I was looking up when I got bored the other day..."

Janito tugged at his cape collar, and cleared his throat.

"Listen, I don't know what the hell you're doing, why you have that spandex suit, but..." Joe Campbell suddenly realized what was going on. "... I am NOT, putting that costume on and parading around with you circus freaks. There are two things Joe Campbell does not do. One, is wear spandex like those fucken wrestlers. And two, donate money to bloody charities. Now piss off."

"OH NO!" Beef yelled. "But then the jobber community is doomed!"

"See if I fucken care!"

"SEDATIVE!" Steve shouted

"What?"

And with that, Cheno reared back to punch Joe Campbell in the face, in a form of sedative. Poser and Janito were quick to stop him.

"You're too bloody banjaxed to clump Captain Jobber!" Janito screamed. "He's the diamond geezer to the Jobbertuide!"

Cheno just stared at him confused. "Wat da funk be you on mang? I ain't got no funken clue wat ya funken sayin', and I ain't funken caring. Ya funken need me, I'll be tokin' in my funken locker room."

Cheno left the office, slamming the door behind him. Campbell just stood there confused. "When the hell did HE get a locker room?" Beef shruged his shoulders, which caused Campbell to get angry. He went to his desk and pressed the intercom button. "GUARDS! TAKE HIM AWAY!"

The guards came into the room, and grabbed Poser, kicking and screaming, away from the scene. Mega Job calmly looked at one another with confusion.

"Now how are we going to save the jobber world without all five of the pieces to the puzzle?!?!" Beef exclaimed, before they all started to make their way out of the room.

Janito was the last one out, closing the door behind him. "Bloody twat."

"`Allo, Beef, `ol chap. Seems you been a bit... violated by that bum bandit, there, eh mate?"

Janito said, rather mockingly. Usually, it was Beef doing the mocking while Janito was in the stretcher, but Janito just couldn't resist the chance to get him back for it.

"Say, I was thinking that I could meet that Karmyn lass at the big show. She seems like a right fit, yeah?"

Beef could only groan in response.

"Right, mate. Well, I figured that after I retain my UK championship when I slightly thrash Miss Angel, we could have ourselves a bit of a quickie. I bet the thought of that really pumps your nads, eh mate?"

Beef mumbled a bit, possibly in the same vein of "shut the hell up, Janito, I'm in a lot of pain right here", but Janito just laughed.

"Aw, common, now, don't be a pillow biter. Though I think you could do for a bit of a kip, shall we say? Right. Off with ya, now, `ol mate." Janito said, as he walked away from Beef as he was being loaded onto an ambulance.

Beef praised God that he went away.

“Why are you doing this?” Providence asked while shaking his head. “I thought we had an understanding.”

Joe looked at him curiously. “We did have an understanding you bloody wanker. The understanding was that you were to do whatever I said. You are here because of me, and you will fight when I say and who I say.”

Providence looked down at the floor for a moment, as Joe stared at his dark hair. Providence brought his eyes back up and looked into Joe’s. “I just don’t understand it, Joe. There’s no one in that match I can trust, not even my partner. What could I possibly gain from this?”

“What could you possibly gain from this?” Joe said shaking his head. “This isn’t about you. Nothing is about you. It’s all about me. What I can gain from this. Cheno and Hypnosis are two meddling bastards who I would like to see crippled. They’ve stuck their noses in my business far too much.”

Seeing that his fight was a lost cause, Providence sighed and slowly nodded his head. As Joe sat down at his desk, Providence walked over to the door and opened it. Standing in the doorway, Providence looked back at Joe one more time.

“I will do what you want tonight, Joe,” Providence said with his eyes narrowing. “I may not like it, but I will do what you want.”

As Providence exited the room and shut the door, a satisfied smile came across the face of Joe Campbell.

Steve Christ Vs Lotus
(Round #2)

The fans began to get antsy for their next match, the long pause between segments were starting to bore them. One fat kid in the crowd looked up into the roof and was about to scream out “Boring”, however the light shined blinding him for a good minute.

"The Third Coming...has arrived."

Ah-the beauty of a good entrance.

“Save Yourself” by Stabbing Westward played immediately after with surprising cheers and rising posters of the man himself. The blond hair, blue eyed 6’6 Steve Christ. He looked around as he stepped on the stage at the ugly pieces of art made for him, mainly one with poor grammar:

STEEVE! SAV US! PLZ THX!

Steve pointed at it and raised an eyebrow as the odd ugly African American kid with Cimon written across his shirt jumped up and down waving it as if it were a good thing. Christ made his way towards the Asylum and hopped in awaiting his opponent.

“Triumph” by the Wutang Clan played. The fans booed. Routine like, Akha came out of the curtain first followed by Lotus. Military like, they walked down towards the asylum, Lotus’ head with hung slightly so the camera couldn’t catch her eyes but as she climbed in her head jerked up looking Christ square into his.

She looked at her hands and clenched them tightly standing in a solid fighting stance as the bell rung and the match started. Christ mocked her as he circled around, making sure he had view of both Akha and Lotus the entire match.

Lotus took the first initiative and struck first, she jumped in the air and did a 360 turn round house missing as Christ rolled out of the way dodging it. As Lotus dropped to the ground lightly on her feet, Christ tried to get the behind the back attack but Lotus kicked behind her catching him in the gut.

She spun around and did a vicious kick to the side temple which flipped Christ over. Christ rolled onto his stomach, not letting the ref even think he was slightly done. He got up and as Lotus got closer, tried to do a donkey kick but Lotus dodged. She kicked Christ in a stomach and picked him up, throwing him against the cage where she let her hands do the talking.

Akha held Christ with both hands as Lotus threw wild punches across his face, the match was extremely one sided as Christ received blow after blow. After Lotus thought he was done, Akha released him and the ref started counting.

1.

2.

Akha shouted something at Lotus that wasn’t clear to Steve. He tried to unscramble it in his mind.

“Queel mmm!”… “Kieeel immm!”… ”KILL HIM!”

Christ rolled quickly to his left as Lotus drove her heel down from high over her head to where Christ’s head use to be with such force that it dented the mat.

Christ immediately took the advantage as Lotus hopped on one foot from the pain of the impact. He first speared her taking her down than threw lefts and rights as the crowd cheered. Than quickly as Akha was about to climb into the Asylum he ran executing a spin heel kick knocking her back into the crowd.

As Lotus was struggling to get up, Christ wrapped his hands around her and threw her belly-to-back in a suplex. He picked up Lotus again and she tried a counter sweep, however Christ jumped in the air and executed a quick enziguri/double-arm DDT combo.

The Truth! Some of the fans screamed. The ref looked down at Lotus and begun counting. Christ refrained Akha from entering the cage as Akha looked from outside horrified.

2.

3.

She started to move. Everything was so dizzy.

4.

5. Geeeup!

Something screamed. Lotus couldn’t make it out.

6.

7. Geeetup!

8. Lotus used the cage for leverage as she hooked her fingers into the cage. “Get up!” screamed Akha as Lotus finally understood.

9.

Lotus was up and the ref stopped counting. Christ raised his index and middle finger in the air and than at her as the crowd cheered. Lotus wobbled around as Christ got closer. A voice in her head said something clearer than everything around her.

“Don’t let those who love you see you fail needlessly and don’t let that bastard win.”

Christ tried to finger Lotus again but she grabbed Christ’s head and jumped up over his hand than jumped down, gripping the wrist between her thighs tightly, squeezing and twisting it sideways with her muscles. Christ struggled to pull it out and than tried to throw a punch but Lotus kneeled back and it barely missed it.

She came back with a right hand and than released Christ’s hand, grabbing Christ’s head again and flipped backwards with a crescent kick that connected with both legs across his chin.

Blood ran down his chin now and his anger rose. Christ staggered back after the kick but as Lotus dropped to a squatting position, he kicked her in the face as she fell back hitting against the cage. As Christ got closer, with both hands in the air like a bear ready to grab her, she used her feet to boost him up in the air and-

CRACK!

Akha was waiting with a chair. Christ wobbled around a bit before falling forward onto the mat. At the eight count Akha dropped the dented chair and jumped into the cage and picked up Lotus hugging her as the bell rung and the match was over signaling “Triumph” by Wutang.

However, it wasn’t the end. Akha hopped out of the cage and threw in a hammer and carried 4 nails in her hand. Lotus picked up the hammer and flipped over the unconscious Christ as the fans booed loudly.

Akha put the nail in the middle of Christ’s forehead but Lotus hesitated. Akha saw this and she pulled out one of Christ’s hands far out to the side and Lotus nailed his armpad into the mat, than the other.
Akha than put Christ’s legs together to finish the cross but Lotus shook her head. “Spread his legs apart!” she screamed and Lotus did so, she nailed in the last two nails into the side of his boots and looked down at Christ who was regaining consciousness.

Lotus sat on his chest and smiled, “One more to go Steve. May the best woman win.”

Christ struggled to move but he was nailed down, Lotus got off and Akha held up Christ’s head making him watch as Lotus measured…

WHAM!

Christ’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and Lotus connected with a straight kick to the balls. “Triumph” played again and Lotus lifted her hand in victory along with Akha as both women left backstage, food showering from the fans towards them.

The controversy lead to more money for Joe, and the more money Joe got, the more controversy tA seemed to garner. It was a Mobius strip, and Joseph Campbell loved it is all, absolutely adored it.

-----------------------------------------
He saw the light. He could hear murmurs, and felt a hangover style ache in the head. Around him, people were scurrying around, pulling nails out of his body during a commercial break or while something took place on the CampbellTron.

His body shivered as blood started to flow from his hands.

Right after his crucifixion.

Still on the mat pulling himself up, he looked.

They were gone.

He knew what he had to do now.
--------------------------------
Joe burned a $1 bill to light a cigar with and drank down a beer. He yawned the bored, contented air of a man who always made sure he got what he want.
Pretty soon, what he'd want was a time machine.
--------------------------------
Chris staggered up the ramp, bleeding everywhere, his fists were clenched and the blood was seeping out, dripping on the ramp.

He parted the curtains.

Down the stairs.

One door.

Two doors.

And...
-------------------------------
As Joe went to look up some porn at www.c-s-s-a.com the door suddenly flew off the hinges.
A boot appeared.

"Wot in the bloody 'ell?" Joe yelled.

Steve Christ appeared in the doorway.

"You're paying for that, you know! I don't care wot the shite just 'appened out there with the girls, you fucking gimmick..."

If Joe hadn't been ranting and raving, he would've noticed Steve walking towards him or the deranged look in his eyes or a bloody right hand to his temple.

He didn't.

Sucks for him.

"One, shut the fuck up," Steve said. "Two, give me a crucifixion match at Turmoil or I'll...I dunno...disembowel your sorry ass with my bare ass and hang you with your small intestine."
"A...a crucifixion match?" This made no sense to Joe, since he hadn't been watching the match.

"Uh-oh! Wrong answer!"

Knee to the gut. He slammed Joe into the top of his desk, and did it again.

"You know what they say, he who hesitates gets punked out!"

"But..."

"WRONG!"

He pried Joe's legs open, and elbow dropped him in the groin.

"Son of a..." Joe choked out.

"Elbow slipped. Bitch." Another right hand. Joe was seeing stars. Steve put his right leg over Joe's right leg, hooked Joe's left behind the right, and turned him over. He grabbed Joe's arms and began swinging them back and forth.

Walls Of Bethlehem on the desk.

"Say it! SAY IT YOU FUCKING MISER! I GET MY MATCH OR YOU'LL BE IN A FUCKING WHEELCHAIR!"

Joe couldn't begin to name where he hurt. His arms were getting stretched. His knees were slowly crumbling. His back, however, felt like someone had smacked him in the back with a 2 x 4.

"The match...yours...let go...dammit...let go..." Joe began banging his head against the desk, which really hurt, but he had to signify a tapout somehow.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"YES! LET GO, DAMMIT!"

"Yes, you're a big cocksucker? Yes, your dick couldn't be found with a magnifying glass..."

"Yes...the match...signed already...just...release..."

"That's the problem, Joey, you always make shit harder than it has to be." Steve released Joe's arms, and untied his legs. "Six days. I can't wait."

Steve walked out the room, jauntily singing a tune.

"I am, I am, I am, I said I'm gonna get next to you..."

And all Joe Campbell could do was cough, squirm and sputter on his desk.

"That...crazy...twat...just made the list."

LLB power walked out, but no sooner than his arm raising came a dreaded chair shot.

ArchAngel.

Angel stepped on ‘The Law’s’ back holding the metal silver chair in his hand, as the Crowd started a “Guilty! Guilty!” chant towards him. Angel pulled LLB up, and swung the chair again.

Whack.

LLB collapsed to the floor in a hurry as Angle picked him up and this time hit one of his trademark moves titled ‘Better Than Death’. A very hurt LLB, now with blood spilling from his head placed both hands underneath him and tried to get up...

He tried. But he couldn’t.

Whack.

Another striking blow from ArchAngel hit LLB with a force unlike ever before. And next...
‘Angel Cutter’.

For the ‘Jury’ was beginning to really hate this outcome.

ArchAngel placed his boots over LLB’s back, glancing down at the metal chair in his hand. He couldn’t stop them... they just wanted more.

Whack.

And more.

Whack.

And more.

LLB again worked his hands out from under him, and this time began to sit up...

Whack.

Whack.

“Angel Mode” cued over the pa, and ArchAngel took his leave. The ‘Jury’ furious. ‘The Law’ powerless. And Joe Campbell drenched somewhere in smiles.

Angel objected to the law once again.

"Cheno, there’s one thing that’s always fucked me off about you, and I can’t fight with you until I get this shit off my chest."

"What da funk mang? Ya gots a problem wit me?"

“Exactly." Hypnosis cheered his throat. "Funk.... fuUK?” Hypnosis stared at Cheno as Eddie looked bewildered and pretty stoned.

"Funk?"

"fuUK?!"

"fuNK?"
...

"fuUK." Dejected Hypnosis realised he can’t change Cheno any more than Cheno can change Hypnosis. He went to turn around and leave the locker room, but Cheno grabbed him by his shoulder and spun him around.

"Wanna smoke dis shiznit wit me mang?" Cheno help up his bong, and Hypnosis let out a smile. He collapsed into a steel chair and took a hard drag.

"Hey Cheno, this is some good funken weed" Hypnosis raises his eyebrow as he realises what he just said.

"FuUK yeah!" It was Cheno’s turn to look surprised as the two train in a way you only can in the Asylum. With one of the biggest matches in either of their asylum careers, the two start to smoke their way to victory.

“Turn around, bitch,” he said.

Nerva already saw him in the mirror, but turned around anyway to meet him eye-to-eye. He was a potential candidate for her to meet at Fight Hell 2. In fact, THE potential candidate.

She grabbed a towel and wiped her face off. “What did you come here for?”

“I just wanted to say congratulations… for the time being. I’m just hoping the same will happen at Turmoil against Hypnosis. Good luck, and good luck tonight.”

“Thanks,” she said, “but you’re wishing me good luck? Didn’t you hear that tape I sent you?”

Inmate nodded. “Yeah, and I heard more than I wanted to hear. You’d better listen to me, Nerva.” He picked up the Asylum Title and moved in closer to her. “I’m not fucking around on my road to Fight Hell, and I won’t be fucking around when I get to Fight Hell. It’s the biggest stage the Asylum has ever set. You and I both should know that. No one is going to stop me from taking this title. A.D. is nothing but a roadblock. He isn’t even a part of the equation.” He held the Asylum Title up. “This is.”

Nerva pulled it out of his hands. “I know it is. But you see, when it comes to the equation, I am the number that always stays with the constant variable that is the Asylum Championship. I won’t be cancelled out.”

Inmate frowned. “Watch me prove you wrong at Fight Hell. If you make it there.”

Nerva nodded. “I will.”

Inmate laughed. “So will I.”

Nerva grinned. “Will you?”

Inmate nodded. “No matter what happens, I’ll be there waiting for you. My word is stone. But I don’t know if I can say the same about yours. You’re not an immortal champion. It’s gonna be me or someone before me who takes your title. We all thought Borst was an indestructible champion, but I proved everyone otherwise. He bleeds just like any other man. And just like any other bitch, you’ll bleed and die if you make it to Fight Hell.”

He turned around and walked out of the door.

Nerva set her title down and tilted her head. “Borst?”

Nerva & Providence vs. Hypnosis & Eddie Cheno

His word forced together two proud men.

His word forced together one unsure man, and one psychotic woman.

“Smoke Two Joints” by Sublime took to the speakers again, bringing out a bandaged up Eddie Cheno. Even after being brutalized earlier in the night, he was here to fight again. After losing to Nerva, all he wanted to do was fight. His music faded out and “Survival” by Double Edge Crew blasted over it. Hypnosis joined Eddie Cheno in the cage, smacked fists with him and then awaited the opposition. The fans were all cheering, alternating between “HYPNOSIS” and “CHENO” chants.

“Forty Six and Two” by Tool cued Providence to come out and walk halfway down the aisle. He stopped and waited until “Unified” by Biohazard replaced his music. Nerva came down with the Asylum Championship around her waist. The fans booed the both of them as they stood and talked for a moment. They had seemingly agreed on a plan and paced toward the cage. Cheno gave Providence a wary eye, but Providence didn’t return the eye contact.

Providence entered the cage first and flew right after Hypnosis. He tackled him against the cage wall and delivered repeated knees and elbows. Eddie Cheno walked over to help Hypnosis, but Nerva had entered the cage and roundhouse kicked him in the head from behind. Hypnosis had reversed matters on his end, delivering hard body shots to Providence against the cage. After a head butt, Hypnosis finished Providence off with a dragon uppercut, leaping high in the air after going through his target. Providence slumped down from the shot.

Nerva continued her assault on Eddie Cheno with an au batido kick, knocking him on the bridge of the nose. She slid form side to side to confuse him and then hook kicked him in the face. Cheno stayed on his feet, but Nerva put him down with a spin kick.

Both Hypnosis and Nerva took their attention away from their beaten dancing partners and eyed each other. They charged at each other with full force, anger boiling and adrenaline pumping. They collided hard, but Nerva managed to use Hypnosis’s own momentum against him with a lift and drop takedown. Before she could mount a grounded offense, Hypnosis kipped up and gave her a spinning leg trip. Nerva rolled backwards onto her feet and axe kicked Hypnosis just as he charged her.

A cut formed underneath his eye. He saw a tornado kick coming and ducked it. When her feet touched the floor, he nailed her with a left jab, a right jab, and a left thrust kick and a right wheel kick. Shoot the Walls High. Nerva fell to the ground.

Meanwhile, Eddie Cheno rose to his feet and saw Providence stirring near the cage. He charged at him, but Providence saw him coming and back dropped him over the cage.

Fortunately for the team of Cheno and Hypnosis, Eddie managed to hang onto the cage rim and hold himself on the apron. Providence threw a right at him, but Cheno blocked it and whacked him with a right fist of his own.

Cheno jumped back into the cage, booted Providence in the gut and tried for a double axe-handle. However, Providence blocked it, hooked Cheno up, and threw him with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex. He allowed Cheno to get to his feet and then went to clip his knee.
Cheno jumped over the attempt and sat on Providence’s back, and then locked in a camel clutch. The referee checked on Providence, but he wasn’t giving up.

Hypnosis pounded away at Nerva against the cage with repeated roundhouse kicks. “This is what you’ve got coming at Turmoil! Don’t think this is just a pit stop before Fight Hell, you bitch, because this is the end of your fucking bullshit reign as champ!”

Nerva blocked one of Hypnosis’s kicks and went for an axe kick. He blocked it and threw an axe kick of her own, but she moved out of the way, causing his calf to smack the steel rim. As Hypnosis tended to his knee, Nerva ran toward Cheno and side kicked him in the face before he could Providence tapped out to the camel clutch.

Cheno swung a wild haymaker that surprisingly connected with Nerva’s face. He followed up with a boot to the gut and DDT’d her to the ground. After what she’d done to him earlier in the night, he continued his assault, driving his knee into her back and sending fists into her head.

Providence capitalized on Hypnosis’s state, clipping his hurt leg from behind and then dropping an elbow to the sternum. He picked Hypnosis up and locked him in a full nelson and tried to trip him forward so that he could fully cinch in the Cleansing. But Hypnosis stayed in the game and backed up, sending Providence’s lower back into the cage. Hypnosis threw a 360 jumping spin kick, but Providence ducked under it and punched him right between the legs.

Hypnosis doubled over clutching his nether regions.

Cheno brought Nerva up by the hair and delivered more punches, causing her to spit up wads of blood. Nerva fought back with a knee to the groin area and then a back fist to the jaw.

Seeing Providence with the advantage over Hypnosis, Nerva continued assaulting Cheno with punches and knees.

Providence hit a gut wrench suplex on Hypnosis. He picked him up and uranage slammed him. Leaping into the air, he got huge hang time followed by a knee plant right into Hypnosis’s stomach. Once again, he brought Hypnosis up and set him up for a final uranage slam, ‘The Fall’. Hypnosis countered out of it with an elbow to the face and then a knee buried deep into the gut. He picked Providence up in a fireman’s carry…

And then knocked him the fuck out.

Right on the steel rim.

Providence’s face smacked off the metal and then he fell to the ground. The ref called for the bell to score this match in the books as a ring-out victory for Hypnosis and Eddie Cheno.

Hypnosis leaned against the cage’s rim for support as the ref raised his arm. His music resurfaced. Nerva turned to see what happened and her eyes widened at the sight of Hypnosis with his arm raised. She pulled up her pant leg and grabbed her nunchucks from her shin holster.

She went berserk on Hypnosis, striking him over the head with the nunchuks. She kept hitting away at his ribs and face until he grabbed them out of her hands. But before he could even react, Zoe came out of nowhere smashed him over the head with the Asylum Championship belt. Akha the monster came in and clubbed Hypnosis over the back with a forearm shot, knocking him straight to the ground. From there, Nerva stomped away with Akha adding her feet in every now and again.

Eddie Cheno got to his feet and wiped the blood from the reopened wound on his forehead. The fans cheered as he helped Hypnosis out, but Lotus and Nicole came down and attacked him from behind. He whacked Lotus in the face with a back fist, but felt the blunt end of Nicole’s nightstick.

Zoe went out of the cage and threw in a microphone and a red fireman’s axe to Nerva. Nerva caught them. Nicole and Lotus disposed of Cheno’s body on the outside and helped beat down on Hypnosis. They hooked an arm and brought him to his feet. Nerva pointed at him with the axe, and then hit her patented Double Touch. Lotus and Nicole held him up despite being nearly unconscious.

Nerva then grabbed the axe and jabbed away at his ribs with the top end that wasn’t sharp. She finally smacked him across the face with the flat end. As the blood poured from his nostrils and mouth, Nerva smiled a red-stained smile and held Hypnosis’s face between her breasts. She looked down at his head and held the microphone to her face.

“It’s okay, little bitch boy. I won’t hurt you anymore… for now. You were just being a bad little boy, and I just had to correct you. To think you had the fucking gall to step up and think you can play with me. Don’t you feel a lot safer with my breasts in your face rather than my fist in your face? This is the last feeling of safety you’ll have if you want to continue your war with me. You think this is painful enough? Just wait until Turmoil. If you show up, it’ll be the last time you’ll ever want to challenge me. Did you hear me, you fucking pussy?”

In surge of passion, Hypnosis broke his arms free from Lotus and Nicole and tackled Nerva to the ground. Before he could even strike her, however, Lotus kicked him in the back of the head. An infuriated Nerva kicked him in the face, knocking him to the ground. She then picked up her fireman’s axe and held it straight over her head. She brought it down with frightening speed, but stopped just two inches above Hypnosis’s heart.

Instead of killing him, she cut the letter ‘M’ in his chest. “Unified” by Biohazard roared over the speakers, and the final scene of the night saw Nerva standing tall over Hypnosis with her Asylum Championship over her shoulder and her Movement women surrounding her.

Total domination was The Movement’s specialty.