click

click

The italian dress shoes made a click on the floor as he walked... but in the distance behind him....

thud

thud

thud

BANG!

The man in the italian shoes spun on his heel and stared down the hall at the giant walking behind him...

"What the hell is your problem Aryen?"

The man began to walk a again leaving a torso size hole in the wall..

"Sylo is wrong... Even though I tried to beat the memories out of his skull in that hell... He may still remember who I am..."

Gianni's eyes squinted as he glared

"Dammit... Well.... Aryen?"

Aryen stared a hole in Gianni as Frank Minio turned the corner behind the "Good Doctor" A quick spin and Gianni and Minio were staring face to face.

"hello... Survivor"

Minio grimaced and nodded slightly...

A moment of silence and Minio stepped past Gianni and walked by Aryen. Aryen's body contorted blike a spring and a moment later his arm swung out, but stopped in mid air as Gianni cleared his throat.

"He has earned the right to walk through these halls Aryen... it's the others who should worry..."

"Excellent." Joe smirked, before realizing the connection between his choice of phrase and finger movement, tucking his hands beneath the desk in front of him to avoid further self ridicule he continued "I'm sure you both have something to settle tonight regarding the way you were interfered with last week?"

"Interfered? We got screwed." Osyrus sneered as Inmate nodded and added an agreement comment with "Fucked."

"I thought as much, so here's the deal. In order to prevent you both from undoubtedly going on tonight and wrecking the rest of the tournament because of your own misfortunes, I'm just going to let you duke it out for the Black title later in The Show." Joe commented, awaiting agreement from the two.

"What about Freak?" Osyrus questioned with narrowed eyes.

"What about him? Haven't seen the ugly cunt since Fight Hell and don't expect to either, I tell you what. Whoever wins tonight can be the interim Black champ until Retribution, if he comes back before then he can defend his belt but if not the winner of that match will hold it legit, I'll hunt him down to get it back if I have to."

"Sounds good to me." Inmate piped up.

"Alright then, so you're both good to go with the fight?"Joe asked as the two men looked at one another.

"Yep." Inmate confirmed.

"Yeah." Osyrus agreed.

"No, fuck no." A third individual added.

Osyrus and Inmate immediately moved forth angrily upon spotting Sebastian Thompson leaning arrogantly in the doorway, Thanh Vactor quickly stepped in the way to prevent any bloodshed.

"Thompson, you weren't invited to this little meeting of minds... kindly fuck off." Joe angrily directed his words at the man in the doorway.

"Not until this shit is straigtened out, why should these two pieces of shit get to fight for the belt while I toil in the tournament?" Thompson grunted.

"Because you're a meddling little cunt, if you'd kept your nose out of their business then I wouldn't need to do this... now piss off before I lose my temper." Joe wasn't getting any more pleasant and Thompson could feel his stare.

"Fine then, these two pussy farts can keep the belt warm for me until Retribution." Sebastian added as he left, Osyrus and Inmate bolted forward following the remark but Thanh held them back firmly.

"Easy gents... don't want you running out of steam before your big fight." Joe commented "And I don't want blood on the new carpet either, let them go Thanh... if they catch that cuntrag in the corridor it's his funeral."

Thanh released the proverbial hounds, who quickly went after the only individual who wanted the Black title as badly as they did.

The gun laden beat of "Heat" by 50 Cent blared throughout the arena as the Innovator of Wrongness walked down to the cage with his trademark "I'm better-than-you" grin on his face.

The few fans that were familiar with HardCase voiced their opinions in the form of jeers and flying trash. HardCase's smile faltered a bit.

There weren't nearly enough people hating him.

Something would have to be done about that.

"Well HELLOOOOOOO CALGARY! How y'all doing here tonight?"

This incited a slightly livlier chorus of boos of boos from those insightful enough to pick up on HardCase's mocking tone.

"As some of you may know, I am HardCase--The Hustla, The Innovator of Wrongness, and your favorite wrestler's favorite wrestler."

"Oops, I mean fighter. Fuckin' A, lighten up."

HardCase paced the ring, looking down contemplatively--a maneuver clearly done for thematic purposes and only irritated the crowd more. Finally, he raised the microphone to his lips.

"I'm very glad to be here in the Asylum. Rapists, murderers, drug addicts, sadists, phsycos, assholes, communists; coming here is like a family reunion. There's also another reason I'm glad to be here. See, things at Action!-"

He had to stop and allow the booing to subside before he began again.

"...haven't been going well as of late. Oh, sure, I'm the newly crowed Carnage Champion-"

Gee, how many times do you think he'll remind everyone of that?

"-but things aren't really going my way. Call it 'creative differences' or whatever you'd like, but I'm not too happy with Young right now, which is why I just know I'm gonna love it here in the Asylum. The only creativity I'll have to indulge is whether or not I want to fistfuck my opponent while wearing a rhinestone glove before or after stomping the fucker within an inch of his life."

This got a mixed reaction--it's funny how violent, sexual abuse references will always get at least a few approving claps or cheers. Fucking degenerates.

“I also like the fact that I no longer have to play the bad guy role. See if this were a wrestling promotion I’d be your—quote/unquote—heel. Which means, upon coming out here, I’d have to make disparaging comments toward you and your contry. Such as, say, how all of Canada is petty much a splattering of jizz America was too lazy to wipe off the face of the earth.”

Boo!

"Yeah, I know. I hate when I have to point out to people what an utter shithole they live in. The truth can be painful somethines, but luck you! I'm not required to come out here and tell you moose-fucking Canucks how shitty your entire country is, 'cause this is the Asylum and there's no script telling me to do that."

BOO!!!

“Then I’d have to insult you all as human beings. But this is only if this were one of those scripted wrestling thingies. Fortunately it isn’t, so the fact that you’re all worthless, skin bags, who are of less value to the world than shitstains on my cock after a particularly rough round of sodomy on one of your daughters won’t ever be mentioned by me."

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

"I know; I know. Again people hate it when you point those things out to them. But don’t worry, I’m not reading from a script here, so the fact that if given the chance I’d gladly work your faggoty lil Canadian skulls in with a meat clever won’t be mentioned here tonight. And my feelings on how I wish your fathers would’ve just jacked off more so you’d be sticky napkin floating down a cesspool instead of dumb fucktards breathing my air will be kept to my self. Finally I’ve found a place where I can be me.

"The nice guy that I am =)."

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

"Heat" by 50 Cent hit again as HardCase left the cage, this time very pleased with the hatred hurled his way.

And for those of you wondering, yes...

...HardCase did, in fact, end that berating diatribe by saying "equal sign, close parenthesis."

"...and yet you claim to no longer be a wrestler?" The voice was sharp and deep, definite and rememberable, but HardCase couldn't put a face to it. He turned around and saw an unfamiliar man sitting in a black computer chair.

For a second, HardCase contemplated just tipping the chair over and beating the man senseless, but decided to indulge him a bit. "Naw, I'm just an asshole. Now shut the fuck up and watch your cartoons. Don't bother grown folk when they're walking."

"I believe 'grown folk' are above saying petty shit in hopes of gaining a measure of attention, but I wouldn't expect a mental child such as yourself to gather such things on his own."

HardCase snickered a moment. That pale face--he hadn't seen it anywhere before. There was no reason for this man to be so confident in his abilities. "Heh, shit, can't get nothing by you, can I, white boy? Shit, you got me. I'm fucking retarded. Now shut the fuck up before you hug your smug, pompous ass, you judgemental little prick."

It was Asher's turn to crack a smile. "We're all judgemental; I'm just right. There's a difference."

"Oh, really? Now would you rather be right... or breathing?" HardCase took a couple paces forward, putting his face within inches of that of Asher's. He cracked a menacing smile as Asher turned his gaze to the ground.

Asher looked up, a genuine grin of happiness plastered across his face. He radiated in this moment--something about him showed nothing but assurance. "I don't think I'll have a problem doing both. Thanks, though. You should try a little harder; you're making things too easy for me."

HardCase raised an eyebrow, then looked into Asher's eyes for a moment. He searched for a weakness, an insecurity, but could see none. "What makes you think I'm trying at all, sweetheart? I don't shit talk to cockroaches; I step on 'em."

"That's a romantic notion you got there. The thought that you could ever hope to be my equal let alone 'above' me is laughable. You're just an ignorant fuck, nothing more. I bet your parents are real proud of you."

"Oh, my parents are very proud. Where's your mommy and daddy, lil' boy? They got sick of your 'I'm always right' bullshit? If it's discipline you're looking for, shit, I might could help you out."

There was a long pause. Asher took a step back and gathered a look of disgust. "It's almost frustrating talking to you. Ignorance is a beautiful thing--when you can be caught up in yourself so much that you refuse to see what a festering, worthless pile of nothing you really are. It must be nice to be blind; too bad I rock so fucking hard that it's not necessary for me.

"I'm going to get some coffee now, so you can stare at this television and continue talking, if you wish. Later."

After that, he paced off with the whisper of some romantic song on his breath. HardCase just snickered and thought of potential reactions to such a confrontations, but shook off the feelings and walked away.

Thanh Vactor Vs Donovan
(Black Tournament Fight)

"Being Me" by Coheed and Cambria kicked up over the sound system and out stepped Donovan from behind the curtains. The youngster was about to step foot in to the Asylum cage for only the second time in his career and he was looking to make it count just as much as the first time. His first fight was against the heavily favored Inmate and Donovan scored the big upset. He was looking to do the same in this fight against the silent assassin. He entered the cage quickly and began to warm up waiting for his opponent to enter the same cold relentless steel structure.

“Needles” by Seether hit the speakers and the fans in attendance were impartial to the arrival of the silent assassin. Thanh made his way out from the back decked out in his usual black karate pants and taped up hands. He had a cold stare on his face that made you know he meant business. Thanh continued his slow methodic pace to the cage and finally entered, never taking his eyes off his injured opponent. Thanh walked around inside the cage a little bit getting warmed up and finally the ref signaled for the match to start. It was time for the battle to begin.

Donovan immediately charged at Thanh Vactor hoping to gain the upper hand in the match right away. He nailed him with a spear that sent both competitors to the ground. Donovan knew that he had to immobilize Thanh’s feet mostly to have a chance at winning this fight, since it was the main weapon Thanh relied upon. Donovan started wailing away at Thanh’s face to the best of his ability with left and right fists. The blows were doing minimal damage though as Thanh was doing a pretty good job of covering himself up.

Donovan decided this method wasn’t really going to work so he quickly changed focus to the mid section of Thanh because it was unprotected. He delivered a few stinging right hands to the gut of Thanh before Thanh responded with a right hook to the face of Donovan which sent him sprawling backwards on to the mat.

Thanh Vactor kipped up from the ground as Donovan was also returning to his feet. Both competitors were ready to get this match over in a hurry and advance on in the tournament but both men also knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. Donovan again charged at Thanh and attempted a clothesline which Thanh easily ducked. Donovan then spun quickly around to charge again but was met with a foot to the face, courtesy of Thanh’s standing side kick. The blow caused Donovan to stumble backwards in to the cage wall and he laid there for a second staring at Thanh who was staring right back.

Thanh decided it was time for him to go to the offensive this time and not wait for Donovan to charge him again. He took off full speed at Donovan and attempted a jumping front kick but Donovan had the moved scouted from Thanh’s last match and moved out of the way. Thanh crashed in to the cage wall and fell backwards on to the mat. Donovan used the situation to his advantage and hoped on top of Thanh and tried with the assault of fists to the face again. This time it happened to work because Thanh didn’t have time to cover up since he had just barely landed on the ground.

After a few shots to the face Donovan decided that was good enough. He quickly got up and picked Thanh up as well. He then hooked him around the waist and delivered a belly to belly suplex sending Thanh slamming to the mat in pain. Donovan was really enjoying inflicting all this pain on the smaller opponent. He kept at it by kicking Thanh in the side a few times and looking down at him with a proud smirk on his face. He had the little Asian man right where he wanted him; at least that’s what he thought.

Thanh had enough and defused the situation by delivering a sweep kick to the legs of Donovan which sent him to the ground. Thanh then kipped up once again and waited for his opponent to return to his feet. As Donovan got up Thanh moved in close and quickly nailed him with a kidney punch on his right side. Donovan bent over to that side to protect the area and Thanh followed up with a spinning back fist to the face of Donovan. The blow caught Donovan by surprise and caused him to stumble backwards a few feet. Just what Thanh wanted to happen. It was time for a spin kick to the face of Donovan, or was it? Donovan evidently saw the kick coming and dropped to his knees and delivered a punch right to the crown jewels of Mr. Vactor. Thanh let out a small yelp as he doubled over then dropped to his knees.

Donovan wasted no time taking advantage of the situation. He delivered a drop kick to the face of the hurting Thanh Vactor and relished in the fact that he was lasting longer than Karen Pembridge had a week ago against this man. Donovan may have taken a little too long to celebrate though because as he walked over to Thanh and attempted to pull him up from the canvas he was met with a gruesome upper cut to the face which knocked him flat on his ass. Thanh was equally skilled in arm strikes as he was leg strikes; Donovan had underestimated him, big mistake.

Thanh then returned to his feet and walked over to the side of Donovan and kicked him square in the ribs a few times, Donovan clutched the area afterwards knowing it was going to be bruised. Thanh then delivered a knee drop in to the side of Donovan and followed that up with a drop kick to the ribs. It was evident that Thanh wanted Donovan’s ribs weakened and wasn’t wasting any time in getting to that state.

Thanh then picked up Donovan and threw him up against the cage wall and started delivering fists and knees to the stomach and rib area of Donovan. He then backed up a few feet and delivered that blow he loves, the jumping front kick. The blow caused Donovan to be smashed back in to the cage and then sprung forward right in to a roundhouse kick from Thanh. After that slew of moves Donovan was down on the ground in pain. He knew he was going to have to do something quickly if he wanted to win this match.

Thanh then decided he would have a little fun with Donovan and let him writhe around in pain on the mat as he put him in a submission. The ever efficient maneuver known as the arm bar submission. After having it locked in for a few seconds Thanh was enjoying the pleasure of seeing Donovan wiggle around on the canvas in agony and knowing that he could very well end up with a broken elbow. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer so he had to do something to get out of the hold. Donovan tried his best to roll over on his side and hit Thanh wherever he could to make him let go. After a few failed attempts at hitting him in the stomach area Donovan decided he was going to have to try to stand up while still in the hold and try to get free.

Donovan was lucky that he had the size advantage on Thanh because it helped him get back to his feet. Thanh had no choice but to let go of the hold when Donovan got back to his feet because he had lost all of his leverage. Donovan quickly jumped on top of Thanh who was still on the ground and about to get to his feet. Donovan had him in a rear guard position and started nailing away on the back of Thanh’s head. This could kill a man but Donovan didn’t care at that point, he just wanted to hurt someone.

Thanh was covering up the back of his head as best as he could to prevent brain damage or even death. He knew there wasn’t much else he could do because the bigger man had all of his weight on his back and shoulder area so he couldn’t really flip him off. He just had to hope that he could endure the pain until Donovan was tired or was kind enough to stop the punishment. He figured it would be the former before the latter.

Thanh’s wish came true a few seconds later. Donovan had worn himself out with the repeated blows to the back of Thanh’s head and had to take a breather. He stood up and let Thanh up because it wasn’t going to do any good to just sit on him and do nothing. Well, it would have been better than letting him up but Donovan kind of forgot that until it was too late. Thanh was now back on his feet and ready to extract a little revenge for the hardcore beating he had just taken.

That’s when Thanh caught Donovan with a right knee to the face, and then a left, and then a right, before letting Donovan fall. Due to his offense and his lack of a defense, it was only elementary…

Until a Blackout occurred.

Causing Donovan to stumble back, and flip completely over the cage wall and to the outside with a thud.

Thanh Vactor had advanced. The new question?

Who would he face next?

We join Mr. Campbell and Mr. Vactor as they wait in Joe’s office, in an ‘important business meeting.’

“So, I took my blade and his girlfri-”

Interupted, by the sound of the rapid knocks.

“Dammit, Thanh!” he called out. “I said no disruptions-”

Joe examined Thanh with his eyes, then remembered that he had forgotten to tell Thanh to screen the door for ‘disturbances,’ AKA the Enlightened. Joe slapped his fore head, but as always, this wasn’t his fault.

“stupidmotherfu- COME IN.”

The door opened, stepping through was a caucasian man wearing denim pants, a black collared T- shirt, and a bald head. He said nothing, and silence surrounded the room as he waited for Campbell to address him.

It’s manners!

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I was sent here by Duncan Fletcher, Mr. Campbell. I believe we have met once before.”

The man extended his hand, just as the realization was coming back to Joe.

“Oh! You are that Joe Sy- character.” He shook vigorously.

“No, sir, just Josiah. But in the basement I was called ‘Pointless.’”

“Ah, and you said we met before?”

“Yes, sir, I believe that it was you who struck me unconscious with the force of your automob-”

“Hahahah.” Joe quickly cut Josiah off with his insincere laugh. “Yeah, good times. Anyways, I hope you know why we called you up here, ‘Pointless.’”

“Yes,” he replied. “I can take a hit, or two, so they tell me. But I really think this is of no concern to you. The jobs that Maxwell informed me I would be doing will not result in any harm to myself, the skills I have in ‘clean- up’ are ab- normal.”

“That shit I like to hear!” Joe stood from his desk and approached Josiah from the other side. “But for right now, it’s best we establish ya’s in the cage, while the green workers are getting experience. As soon as you win a couple of fights, or at least last a while, we’ll talk about your ‘jobs.’”

Josiah only laughed, as he looked down.

“Sir, with no disrespect, I can last longer than any child you have recently acquired. My skills may not be up to the best, nor even standards, but those ‘fighters’ can not put me down, and that is a guarentee.”

That last statement caught the ear of one man who happened to be passing by Joe's office; one Asher Rollins. He leaned in closely, ear- to- door, waiting for the conversation to continue.

"Look at this arrogant cunt." Joe turned to Thanh, while pointing at Pointless, almost chuckling. "Fletcher hasn't even told me how good you are, but your track record in the bars isn't exactly impressive."

Josiah looked down and smiled. "I was still learning how things work, Joe. But I can assure you, I am the closest to Heaven you will see in that cage. That even goes further than that blasphemous peon, Steve Christ."

Pointless looked Joe dead in the eyes, something that somewhat spooked our fearless leader.

"I am the closest thing you have to God."

There was a small snicker from the outside hallway. "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?"

All eyes shifted to the outside wall adjacent to the doorway. Asher leaned there in a very nonchalant manner. He picked himself up and took a step closer to Josiah, a cocky little smile about him. He threw his arms to the side and shurgged briefly before looking up.

"It isn't a matter of thinking or enjoying, prick. It's as stone as fucking scripture."

"I'd say something cool and trendy like, 'Your God is dead,' but I'm above that. Your God never existed. Your scripture is shit to me."

Joe took a seat at his desk and stared out into the hallway. There was a certain something about Asher that was reminescent, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "Before you continue with your parade of ignorance, let me just say your stories of 'God was never there for me,' that tend to your angst cries, will prove more useless to me than your presence right now. Be gone," Josiah replied in a tone deeper than usual.

"Angst? Do you even know what angst is, you glorified Jesus freak? There is no insecurity here; there is no anxiety here. Stick to the limited vocabulary if that's all you know, buddy." Asher accentuated the final word in an almost aggressive manner, but he was in no way a violent man.

Josiah took a step forward and held his elbow in his arm. "I say angst, sir, because it is the stereo- type I gather from your 'fashion sense.' I may be wrong, but 'you people' are generally the angst- like, which is the reason that society chooses to outcast you, not the other way around, no matter how 'different' and 'anti- society' you claim to be.

"Go back to your coffee bars and open- mic nights, where someone actually thinks you matter."

"Since when do seventy-dollar designer jeans and a black Dashboard Confessional shirt lable me an outcast? I don't think you're keeping your fingers on the pulse of the fashion community, buddy. And of course I'm an outcast--people like you, with your bit lips and held tongues, can't accept such a being."

The argument seemed repetitive; Asher'd been explaining himself ever since middle school. It's not that he felt the need to allow everyone to understand him. He argued as if it were a sport. It was a sport, to him.

"Yeah, right. I'll teach you how the world works later. For now, I have a word for you: subculture, and I'm sure you're an outcast, but in a much different manner than I am. See, I don't really care about my position amongst the people in this world. No one likes looking up the ladder; they all want to be looking down. I can tell you're not too fond of everyone seeing you as an anomoly. I can see it in your expressionless look, tired eyes, and hear it in your colorless speech and voice. You're dead, or'd be better off as such."

"There is some truth to your ignorance, child. At least you have realized your potential, which is none. My position on this Earth, or lack there of, is something which you would never understand. I have a purpose, I know this, and the fact that you seem to go out of your way to destroy my sense of self- worth reveals yours.

"It is you who is dead. You are a decimal, a factor of nothing, that deserves nothing but my pity, which is something that you shall not be getting. Disect my comment as you see fit."

Asher smiled and looked to the ground for a moment before jerking his head to the side and moving a measure of black out of his eyes. "Man, you are so dumb. You act as if you have some deep worth that no one can comprehend, but you're really just some dilusional fuck. You should fit in well here. I'll see you later, I'm sure."

Eddie Scott Poser Vs Nicole Carson
(Lost Footage from seVered)

"Hello! King of Poland over here!"

Eddie Scott Poser stood in the middle of chaos, dodging trash as it was thrown his way and trying to restore order at the same time. He was trying to restore order not for a noble cause but because he wanted the crowd's complete attention. By the look of the crowd it seemed that wouldn't be happening. The Asylum was now being drenched in alcohol as the drunks in the crowd shouted obscenities and tossed more bottles. He simply raised his finger to his mouth to shut them up.

It didn't work. Obviously.

"That's it! Don't make me call in the Polish Special Forces on all of you!" Poser threatened, now pointing his finger at each person in the crowd.

That's when "Electioneering"'s electric guitar riffs rang throughout the building. Nicole Carson strode out from the back, cool and confident, and with the usual paradoxal flare to her eyes. She held no microphone....she obviously wasn't in the mood for talking.

As Nicole marched towards the Asylum, Poser remained where he stood. "Come on in then...wait who are you? Aren't you Eddie's GIRLFRIEND? I'm going to kick your ass royaly, and I DO mean ROYALY!"

She paid no attention, instead Nicole leapt over the cage and landed square next to Eddie Scott Poser.

And without a proper buildup to the action, it came right in your face.

Poser dove at her with the microphone, but she quickly ducked beneath it, and swung her elbow causing him to stumble. Two thunderous punches sent him to his knees, his nose possibly busted but definetely bleeding. She sent another kick to his midsection and following that slammed him against the cage wall with a spinning roundhouse. As she stalked closer, Poser swung the bag that he hid behind him the entire time and knocked Nicole clean off her feet.

Numerous dangerous weapons spilled out of the bag and scattered onto the floor. Some were dangerous, others just made no sense at all, but what do you expect from a man who's favorite super hero is Aquaman? Poser cringed and smeared the blood from his nose, whipping Nicole with rib shots out of pure rage as he did. Breathing heavily, she pushed off her knees but dropped in defeat as Poser cracked her ribs with a stiff kick.

He grabbed a handfull of her hair and dragged her to her knees, which was a very bad position for both of them, but more importantly for Poser. Almost instantaneously she low blowed Poser and sent him crumbling. Nicole leapt from her position and thrusted a knee in his face, and instead of letting him drop to the floor, Nicole furiously struck with him with her kneecap multiple times. And almost playfully, if it wasn't for the tenacity of it, she slapped him so that the people who paid good money to hear it, heard it.

Nicole lifted Poser while he struggled with elbow shots. And without a head start, speared him and rushed toward the cage. They both collided with the cage, Poser taking the brunt of the impact and almost spilling over the edge. She landed a few punches in before kicking off the wall for a flip, whipping him with a boot during the rotation and then spearing him once more after landing.

With the advantage now on her side, Nicole decided not to disrupt Poser recooperating and instead focused on the weapons that had spilled across the Asylum. She laid her eyes on a pair of Wolverine style gloves first.

Nicole tossed them over at Poser. "Here, princess."

Continuing her search for anything that would do some damage, her hands grasped onto a shiny steel chair. As she turned around though, Poser was already back to his senses, and more than that, he was livid. He charged, breaking her in half with a clothesline. The crowd responded well to that one, not exactly encouraging Poser but actually encouraging any sort of violence. Poser would give it to the crowd directly or not. He lifted Nicole onto his shouldars and very slopily yet effectively suplexed her against the canvas, the smack of her back slamming against the canvas thundering throughout the arena.

Smirking grimly, he pulled out a pack of playing cards and dealt them over her. Then he brought her back to her feet and shoved her against the cage wall, but Nicole jolted alive and leapt off the cage wall, striking him with a flying kick and then bent her leg almost to the back of her head as she axe kicked him to the jaw. Grimancing in pain, he managed to throw a blurred right that caught her to the skull, though she fought back with one of her own, blasting Poser back a step.

Nicole dove at Poser for another right, he sped underneath and rammed his shouldar deep into her unprotected stomach, which ended with him repeatedly charging her until driving her into the steel chair with a tackle. Wearing her down, Poser kept with rib shots before picking up the dented chair and lashing Nicole to the ribs with the end. She hollered in agony as Poser brought flat surface against flat surface, striking the soft flesh of her back.

While tossing more cards onto her fallen body, Poser crushed her in between the chair and the floor. As he swung the chair down each time he crushed some more of her spirit, until Nicole had stopped fighting completely, and then he had decided he would finish it. Lifting Nicole onto his shouldars, he then drilled her into the steel chair head first...her body dropping limpy from a headstand.

Poser leapt off his feet, turning towards the crowd while showing off the cracked chair.

"BOW...THE...FUCK...DOWN!"

1...

2...

Nicole crawled, her arms slipping every time she tried to use them...

3...

4...

5...

She was in a push up position, struggling to get up...

6...

She was going to get up!

Poser came in, denting her ribs in with a running soccer kick.

1...

Blood flowed freely from her mouth...

2...

It spilled out onto the floor, as she tried to crawl onto her arms once again...

3....

Her sight kept only on the puddle forming below her...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

9...

SHE WAS UP!

Poser stormed at her with the Clothesline from Hell, Michigan out of desperation.

A move that wasn't even from Hell, Michigan, or a clothesline.

Nicole sidestepped the superkick as it breezed by her, locking in a hook and strangling his arm in circles around his neck. She low blowed Poser and he dropped to his knees, hollering from the torture as the pressure was increased.

Still wringing his arm, Nicole pulled him closer. He flew over her back as she added to the torment of the submission with a leg scissors. By the time this happened, Poser had come from Hell, Michigan and back. Wide-eyed, he tried to squirm his way out of the hook...however, came to the conclusion that there was no way out of it. Even David Blaine by now would have said "Fuck it."

Even though he should have, Poser had come too far to throw in the towel at this point. He would come out of this with an arm less if he needed to. Luckily for Poser, Nicole had stared to feel the wear of the blood loss and became weary, allowing him to break free of the hook and scramble free. Nicole leaned against the floor for support as Poser managed onto his feet, which meant that she was at his mercy. She struggled onto her own, only getting halfway before Poser crashed his skull into hers.

Merciless, Poser became the human version of the Flash, colliding with Nicole and knocking both out. Rather stupid, actually. You try telling him that.

1...

2...

Poser began to stir...

3...

4...

5...

Poser barely stood on flimsy legs...

6...

7...

Eddie Scott Poser was up, waiting, for Nicole Carson to stand up...

8...

He toppled her with the Broken Heart, a twisting splash as she finally stood up.

It looked like Nicole was in a real predicament here. Every time she fought to get up she lost more energy, and every second wasted she grew weaker. As if it couldn't get any worse, Poser was already formulating something else in his brain. He walked over to the spilled bag and picked up matches that lied idle.

By the time he had one match out, Nicole waited behind him. He turned only to be crippled as Nicole cracked him to the chest with karate kicks, following it with a hook kick, cartweeling and kicking Poser's skull in at the same time. He stumbled, Nicole on the chase, as she pounded into him with bloodthirsty lefts and rights. Poser fought back with a tremendous right, knocking Nicole into the cage wall. As she came closer, Poser reeled back for another, but instead grasped his arm in pain. The damage had been done to the right arm of Poser thanks to the hook.

Nicole pierced Poser's right arm with an axe kick as she struck for a boot to the face, but Poser sidestepped quickly, clubbing her to the back of the neck as she came closer. Using his left arm, because he could barely budge his right. Nicole's futile attempt to stand up ended with Poser kicking her directly in the face. He trudged away, torwards the matches that were dropped, blood stains marking his tracks.

Mimmicking Pyro, he struck a match and burned up a playing card. Then tossed it at Nicole Carson and watched it eat away at her arm. Poser smirked, lighting another and tossing it, and then moving onto to bigger things as he saw the steel chair in the corner of his eye. Pulling out a rag, he carefully placed it onto the chair, and then watched as the robust flame exploded it into flames.

Nicole must have smelled the fire, because she immediately stirred, trying to stand before Poser could set her alight with it. He moved towards her clutching the chair as she pushed for strength but found none.

And standing above her, he strained while bringing the chair higher....

Too long.

Low blowing him with a kick, Nicole sent the flaming chair flying with a kick. Poser hollered as he tossed the scortching rag away from his face, the fireball only torching him for a couple seconds, but still able to burn enough that he screamed hell from his lungs.

Then Nicole leapt into the air and struck him with a 360 degree spin kick, exploding from a crouching position, then uppercutting him in the air.

Poser tumbled over the cage wall.

Nicole dropped to the floor exhausted, the bell ringing her brain.

And he could barely believe it himself as he watched Nicole from outside the cage. The crowd watched Poser sneer in disgust at the outcome, his sights focused directly on Nicole Carson, who had just moved onto her knees.

Craddling his face with one arm, Poser walked in defeat towards the back, still exchanging dirty looks with Nicole.

Or Joe fired him. One or the other.

Scheduled to face Ramis at the latest PPV Severed, Eddie was left home with nothing to do. Last week, he wasn’t even called. This week, he forced his way into the building. He is the television champion.

And he had a plan to force some attention to be placed onto his shoulders.

That’s when he heard the slight turning of a door knob, and his attention darted to it immediately. Opening the door was none other than Frank Minio, and Minio obviously wasn’t pleased with the current situation. “What the fuck are you doing? This is MY locker room, so if you could kindly vacate your filthy ass outta it, I’d appreciate it.” Frank propped the door open, and narrowed his eyes at the current television champion.

“Nah listen mang, I gotsom shiznit ta funken discuss an’ den I’d be funken outta here like I be stealin’ ya.” Cheno’s head jerked back in confusion. “Dat don’t be soundin’ right yo.”

“Get to the fucken point Eddie.”

“Da point?” Eddie walked closer, staring Minio in the eyes. “Da point be ya funken biznitch fairy be bailin’ on Asylum mang. He be leavin’ me outta the cold, and I ain’t been doin’ shit since.”

“Not my fault you don’t have a social life.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “Funk ya mang. Funk dat shiznit, I ain’t got anydin’ wrong wit ya mang,” Eddie turned around as he was saying this, and then went right back into Frank’s face. “Funken yet.”

“You aren’t “Funken scaring me mang,” Minio said, mocking Eddie slightly with air quotes. “So LEAVE, before I carry you out of here in pieces.”

“I be likin’ ta see ya try. Nah mang, but yer funken life partner be funken leavin’ me wit no defense at funken Severed. And last week yo? I be funken accosted or some shiznit outta dis funken arena. So now I be funken establishin’ my shiznit now. And since I can’t funken beat dat Chester,” Eddie laughed. “Chester, wat funken name is dat?” Eddie suddenly turned his face serious, as Frank’s face never changed. “Since I can’t funken keel Chester, I be keelin’ ya.”

”Fine, but put the title on the line.” Frank smiled, licking his lips at the thought of getting a shot at Eddie’s championship.

“Only if ya get dat fairy back here in tA so I can funken whoop him.”

“I can’t do that Eddie.”

“Den I can’t be doin’ that either. It’d be called leverage mang. I got it.” Eddie held up his television title. “Ya don’t.” And with that, Eddie slowly walked out of the locker room, backwards.

Frank stood there, and simply muttered “For now.”

"Eastbound and Down" was playing and "The Hammer" was there.

The crowd was generally complacent to Hank Earl Hoskins, however he wasn't. "WooWee! Hank Earl am heyre an' We'z gonner PARTEE!" Yes Hank Earl was incredibly intoxicated, and by that extra half-full (yes, Mr. Spears is an optimist) bottle of Wild Turkey 151 in his hand, there was more to come. Drool started to run down his face as he walked down to the cage and climbed in, pulling out a microphone from his jeans pocket.

"Hay everybodee! Et's Hank Earlz seengalong today. Mistah Campbell wanted ol Hank Earl to ‘Ern yur bleedin' pay’ or sumthing so, we'z gonner seeng tha grate song "Thank Gawd Eye'ma Countree Boy!"

A fiddle and guitar were heard, the bridge between the first and second verse of one of the best known John Denver songs of all time when something was seen on the screen: A cartoonish bouncing ball featuring a picture of a smiling Hank Earl, kinda like what you'd have for the sing-a-long videos for the lyrics. Yes, it was that bad. Sadly his singing was much worse.

"Well Eye'd wudn't trayde mye liyfe fer dymonds or jewls, Eye nevre wuz one a dem money hungree fuels," by this time Hank Earl was dancing the jig known as the "Crab Walk" or the thing that Axl Rose did for the uninitiated, "Eye'd rather have mye fittle an' mye farmin' tools," Pause ," Thank Gawd Eye'ma countree boy!"

Crickeet! Crickeet!

Yes, that was my attempts at the crickets. Take my word on it, it was silent. Time for Verse Two: Electric Boogaloo.

"Yeah, citee folk drivin' inuh black limozeeene, A lotta sayd people thinkin' that's a mighty keen, Sun, lemme tell ya now exactly what Eye meen," A huge chug of the Wild Turkey. Some of it dribbled down onto his brand-spanking new Ryan Newman NASCAR t-shirt. "Eye thank Gawd Eye'ma countree boy"

By this time the chorus came, but the crowd got a little into the drunken antics of the Texan. No they weren't singing, but they were enjoying the drunken conduct of H e H.

"Wull, Eye got mea fyne wyfe, Eye got mee ol' fettle, When tha sun's comin' up Eye got caykes on tha grittle, Life ain't nothin' buta funnee, funnee, rittle," Pause for effect. " Thank Gawd Eye'ma-"

Lights out. BOOYAH. When this happens, fans ALWAYS cheer.

Fans: CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER

The screen above the entrance once again flickered to life, as a dim object appeared, and small children began to fill the top of the stage. After a few moments, the whole stage was filled with small children, dressed in white robes, and all holding candles, all standing in an orderly fashion (lines, and rows, shit nigga). Slowly, a deep tone came from their mouths.

The screen began to light up, and an outline of a shield could be seen. The tone from the children rose, and rose, and rose.

SHEEEEEEEEEEET

“Oh!”

You know the ‘Oh,’ right before the chorus in the beginning of “Hot in Herre” by Nelly. It didn’t play, but that ‘Oh’ could be used in ANY situation.

Honey, I’m cheating on you. OH!

I just won the lottery. OH!

I’m a man, that used to be a woman, but now I’m a man again. OH!

Anyways, after the ‘Oh,’ came the song that probably NO ONE in Asylum has ever heard...

“Lord I lift your name on high.... Lord I’m glad to give you praises.... I’m so glad you’re in my heart... I’m so glad you came to save us....”

Boos had already started to come in.

“You came from HEAVEN to Earth, to shoooooow the way! From the EARTH to the Cross, my deeeeeebt to pay! From the Cross to the Grave, from the Grave to the Sky! Lord I lift your name on hiiiiiiiiigh!”

Cups of beer and semen were pelting innocent children in the face, most of them cried. Some still tried to stay in order, beginning to clap, while few sobbed on the ground, but all was good, as their part was over. Another man was to make his mark....

“WHO’S THE GREATEST?!”

Some black man in a white bandanna, sunglasses, and cammo pants down to his knees ran from the stage, dodging the crying pussy kids, hopping in front of the cage.

“TELL ME! WHO’S THE GREATEST?!?! Clap for me, y’all!”

Y’all?

Fans: JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER

But it was no use. People should know the Religious type have no respect for other people’s opinions... duh. A spotlight shone in the afro- man, and thusly, the rapping begun.

“Who’s the greatest of the heads around (heads around)!”
CLAP
“Suggested that no one is gonna be found (gonna be found)!”
CLAP
“I give my crown to the Lord on high (Lord on high)!”
CLAP
“Sent to the grave, then He went to the sky (went to the sky)!”
CLAP

“Now I gonn’ appear all the way from Maui
From Texas all’a way to Cali
Appear on Jerry Springer,
Oprah, and even Sally
Actually
Who are the Greatest of the men you know?
When it comes right down to it, history has shown
When you stub your toe, do you call on Mike?
Or do you pray to Wesley Snipes when you get scared tonight?
It’s December 25th, and you givin’ tha gift
Is it the name of Andy Griffith you ‘tend to uplift
Now I believe in givin’ honor, when honor is due
But was it Edgar Alan Poe who shed his blood for you?”
“Who’s the greatest of the heads around (heads around)!”

CLAP
“Suggested that no one is gonna be found (gonna be found)!”
CLAP
“I give my crown to the Lord on high (Lord on high)!”
CLAP
“Sent to the grave, then He went to the sky (went to the sky)!”
CLAP

“I remember, it was Winnie the Pooh!
Had eleven in his crew
The twelfth he couldn’t trust ‘em
I knew that kid would rust ‘em
That little PIG that sold him out, He was nailed to the cross
But I thank God up in Heaven for the stuff that he lost
When you was BAPTIZED, was it in Prince’s name
Or is it Don King that provides you fame?
Do you bless Michael Keaton, before you eat your chicken basket
Or do you trust that Uncle Fester, could save you from the casket.”

OHHHHHHHHHHH SHIT! MICHAL KEATON AND UNCLE FESTER IN THE SAME FUCKING RHYME!

The chorus was repeated, but most fans had left. The kids, now covered in beer/puke/jiz/donated organs, got to their feet and provided claps and base tones for the rapper as the shitty beat continued, as he did as well. His sunglasses were now missing a lens, which shows how much money Christian Rappers make.

The rapper began to shout “GOD IS BIG! GOD IS HUGE! BIGGER THAN A SUBURBAN! BIGGER THAN THOSE NEW FORD EXCURSIONS! ” Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttt NIGGA. He did NOT just go there!

“Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce you to.... KAYLEEEEEE YOOOOUUUUUUNG!”

Oh. Fucking. No.

The screen behind her had now revealed itself fully to be the Mormon shield, with CTR in big letters across the face. And as that happened, another spotlight lit the top of the stage, and standing there in a NON revealing skirt and a NON revealing white dress shirt was the Missionary, Kaylee Young.

She had obviously had new expansions since thReat hadn’t been going well, new territory, but the fans that would channel surf still had no respect for the girl that would practically SHOVE the Book of Mormon down your throat.

She squeezed between two Choir girls, vomit covered and still clapping, and joined the shitty rapper on stage as they embraced in a hug, then holding their arms high in the air.
“Well, HELLOOOOO there, Asylum fans!”

Fuck you.

Dick off.

Show us your boobs.

Give me an Alabama Slamma!

The lights returned, but the booing wouldn’t stop as the music faded out. Kaylee pretended like she ignored it, and continued to talk.

“Thank you, Mormon Tabernacle Choir!”

This was definitely not the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

“Thank you, MC McSyphallis!”

He was definitely MC McSyphallis

The rapper smiled, then turned around and guided the small, puberty infested children to the back where he could probably take advantage of them. Come on, don’t Christian Rappers do that?

Once they were all gone, Kaylee turned to the cage, to a drunken Hank Earl Hoskins that was grabbing on to the walls just to keep his balance.

“Hello, Mister Hoskins!”

Swig.

That bottle was gone like a mother.

Burp

Drool slash alcohol dripped down his face.

“Whie tha hell did yew innerup Hank Earl?”

Kaylee was about to open her mouth when he burped again.

“An when Joe send Hank Earl out herre ta have uh seeng-ah-longe. Yew cum out wit yo’ Crixtiun seenguahs an yo’ MacSyphdude. Hank Earl wuz singin’.”

The f’n light bulb lit up.

“Hank Earl get’z it. Yew want sum of tha Hammah. ‘Ell cum an’ get it babee. Cuz Hank Earl is enuf uh mahn too go arund.”

Kaylee blinked. Looked around. The crowd cheered.

"Ummmmmm I'm sorry, Mister Hoskins, but I can't hear you! I am sorry for the misunderstanding, but I can only speak English! But anyways, I came out here-"
She was interupted.

FRAAAAAAAP!

He farted. The crowd exploded. Kaylee was embarassed.

"Hank Earl'z sowwy, get uh bit gassy whun ecksightd. If yew kno whut Hank Earl meanz. Go On."

"As I was SAYING." She was slightly, or greatly, agitated. Not many have seen her angry. "I came out here to tell you, Mister Hoskins, and all the fans watching right now, that there is a man.

"A man that loves you."

"YEW MEAN TOM LANDRY!?!!"

"NO!!!"

Screams! SCREAMS.

"I mean-"

"BURT REYNOLDS! CUZ CANNONBALL RUN ROOOLED!"

FRAAAAAAP!

"NO! NO! freakingNOOOOO!!!!!"

She was panting in to the microphone.

"I am talking about JESUS!"

H e H broke the bottle over the cage, suddenly!

"AH! SO YEW DOWN'T LYKE THA WHYTE DICK! NO ONE HEYRE GOT UH SHOT WIT YEW! YEW BE HUMPIN' SUM MECKIAN NAMED HAYZOOZ!"
Hoskins lifted up the neck of the bottle.

"HANK EARL'D FUCKIN KILL 'EM!"

Rage, that was all that she could feel. Within seconds, Kaylee sprinted to the cage, hopped over the top, and tackled Hank to the mat.

The broken neck flew in the stands.

"Ow, my eye!"

Hank tried to pull away from Kaylee, with the help of the cage wall, but to no avail. After a series of slaps and shin kicks, Kaylee decided to go for all the marbles. Too drunk to do anything but squirm, H e H realized there was no stopping her.

She rolled up the black sleves of his Nascar shirt, opened her jaw, and dove in for the kill.
"YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW"

Kaylee's jaw locked with pieces of skin from Hank's shoulder caught between her teeth. He began to pass out as he saw blood surfacing from under her bicuspids. After about thirty seconds of raw biting, she released and stood up.

She spat the blood of the hick out of her mouth. Having too much of it would make her drunk, and that's not Mormonomics. Instead, she gave a hard kick to the testicles. That's some Mormonomics.

"JAYSUS CHRYST! THAT FUCKIN' HURRT, YEW BITCH!"

She turned to him, one last time, smiling before she left the cage.

"Who's the Greatest?" by MC McSyphallis played again, as she skipped out to boos.

Hank Earl then looked down at his genitals.

He had an erection.

He then smiled.

The woman that shared the name of the woman that had crushed his heart was now on his mind. He stared at the half full moon and frowned. That awkward feeling came back followed by the alien feeling he had neglected to pay any attention too.

She hates your guts

“I know,” He replied aloud.

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He hadn’t smoked in years but it seemed the right occasion for a smoke, you know just to calm the ol’ nerves a bit. Each suck of cancer made him feel even more euphoric and each puff of smoke made him forget the feelings he so longed to feel.

He put the cigarette out and turned back toward the arena...it was time to go back to the hate...to the loathing...it was time to go back inside the Asylum.

But then again, running in place doesn’t let people bump into one another.

Eddie Scott Poser, the King of Poland, stood there with a smile on his face, a crown on top of his head, and even more focus than ever. “Eddie! Long time no see!” Poser took a look at Cheno’s left side of his face, which looks as if it had been on the losing side of a war. A bullet hole wound, and three slices from Poser’s Wolverine Style Hand claws from the August 24th edition. “At least, since the last time.”

Poser laughed, and Cheno just stood cold.

“Oh come on! That was funny and you know it! Unless you don’t know funny. Do you KNOW funny?” Poser said, placing his hand on Cheno’s shoulder.

And in a swift motion, Cheno swatted it away and shoved Poser into the nearest wall. It cracked a bit, shapening itself around Poser, as Cheno thrusted his forearm underneath Poser’s chin. “Mang, ya got da funken easy treatment last time yo, but ya keep dis funken shiznit up mang, and I be totally knockin’ yer funken face out.”

Cheno released his hold, and kept walking down his way. Poser pulled the collar of his duster, and shook his head. “Knock my face out?” Poser sighed. “Your logic does not resemble our earth logic. It resembles MY Logic damnit!”

Poser kicked the wall, which was in the shape of him. A few pieces crumpled to the ground, a light cloud of dust rose up, and Poser coughed due to it, before simply turning away, and continuing down his original path.

Well, in all honest someone was going to come through those doors… the thing is, it just didn’t happen right away.

It was as if the scene was on pause. And for a very long time too. Nothing happened. No shadows appeared. No sounds in the distance. It was as dead as the pause button could be… but at least you got to see those really cool lines of the machine holding the tape in place. Here, you didn’t even get those. And the Fans didn’t like that. They already booed… or, well, I shouldn’t say “already” because it had been a minute… maybe even more. And to those paying customers… it was more than a minute. It seemed like a month… a year… a century.

Or a 30-dollar ticket wasted.

Then, after all this time… did a figure approach the entrance.

But the doors didn’t open. Not yet anyway. Was this figure toying with us?

Well that’s what the Crowd thought.

They booed some more.

“BORING! BORING!” Some of them began to chant.

“BORING! BORING!”

And now I’m even getting bored typing this!

But no one could control the figure on the other end… as he was in control of everyone’s actions.

A longer wait passed.

And then another…

Why didn’t the scene cut? No one knew.

FINALLY, after all of this time… did the door fly back, and in he walked.

Slowly…

The Fans didn’t boo… but no one cheered either.

Miles Blunder had appeared.

…

Miles Blunder!?

He was still on the roster?

Knowing Joe Campbell, he more than likely had bigger problems to attend to. And knowing Miles… for the past three months he was more than likely outside the arena doors every night, without the balls to actually enter.

Once in a blue moon, though, he got those balls.

This was his (and our) lucky day.

Miles nervously walked through the backstage area… in search for his locker room.

And as he did, the scene came to a close, bringing a series of wonderful and enjoying commercials to view!

Hey, anything was better than this…

Miles Blunder Vs Eddie Scott Poser

Out walked Eddie Scott Poser, sporting his brand new Gambit-like jacket, with the fingerless gloves on his hands as he carried a deck of cards in his pocket. The Fans cheered Eddie out. They had remembered his comments towards Eddie Cheno a couple of weeks ago… but most importantly they supported him because he took a stand for tA a short time ago.

Poser entered the cage, as he turned to the Referee and chucked a “charged” card at him. Of course this was not the movies… and Eddie did not have the powers that Gambit possessed. The “charged” card just hit the Referee in the chest and rolled to the canvas.

As Poser’s theme died down… another one took its place.

“The Other Man” by Sloan.

And the Fans had remembered this song. It was none other than Miles Blunder’s theme.

Miles not only appeared… but he had a match too!?

What was Joe Campbell smoking?

Regardless, the nervous ‘Germ Gestapo’ slowly walked out from behind the curtain… to a motion of confusion from the Crowd. Again, no one cheered… no one booed… but no one was silent either.

Blunder walked into the cage, and took one look at Eddie Scott Poser.

For a second, Miles wasn’t scared anymore… but that was when the bell went.

Charging forth, Eddie knocked Miles down with a clothesline. But Blunder surprised all as he got right back up and nailed Poser in the face with a right hand. The young blonde then bounced himself off the Asylum cage and threw himself in the direction of Poser.

Eddie ducked, sending Miles face-first into the mesh.

With ‘The Germ Gestapo’ reeling… Poser turned him around, reached into his coat pocket… and chucked a “charged” card at him.

Now this was purely out of coincidence. Blunder fell to the floor… allowing Poser to smile and nod to the Crowd.

With Miles down, everything pointed to another simple loss for ‘The Germ Gestapo’. And it was going to be another simple loss too. There Miles Blunder was. He had honestly recovered… but inside his head, it was already a poor showing on his behalf.

So Miles didn’t want to get up and try again.

He just wanted Poser to end it.

Eddie picked Blunder up… tossed him into the cage, and as Miles bounced off it, Poser hit ‘I Just Stole Your Finisher!’.

The Sky High connected… as this would go down in the books as the first time in Miles’ two year career that his finishing maneuver was hit.

There was just one problem.

His opponent performed it.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Yadda yadda yadda ten.

The bell went. This match was over… and as Eddie Scott Poser’s theme song played, everyone was left wondering…

What the hell was different between the Miles Blunder before… and the Miles Blunder now?

Her slim and firm figure moved along with her shadow. She threw a punch and it followed with the same amount of force. The silent "swish" of the air was rhythmic as sweat glistened on her forehead. She stopped suddenly though, as the feeling of eyes made the hair on the back of her neck stand in attention. Turning quickly, like a lioness, she was ready to attack anything that stepped even one step towards her.

It was typical of the "psycho bitch" to be in a constant state of high alert. Hell, if you were in her shoes, wouldn't you? Quickly, she stepped back, the confusion mounting in her brain as she gazed upon a perplexing sight.

Nothing. No one.

The dismal and dingy locker room was empty. But, it didn't feel empty...

It didn't seem possible. Jade could have sworn that there had been someone watching her, at least for a fleeting moment. Still not content to return to "normal" as it were, Jade stalked forward towards the door, fists clutched at her sides. She would have a nice little greeting in store for whoever was fucking around with her.

But that's when the voice came. It was strong and deep like the ocean. Jade quickly turned and from the shadows stepped the large frame of Sylo. He smiled as the two locked eyes. Jade growled showing teeth as Sylo just continued to look on.

"That's one hell of a right hook you have," He said rubbing his jaw a little while reminiscing of last week.

Jade allowed her lips to twist into a devious smirk. So, he liked what she had to offer...or he was being sarcastic. Either way, it was a comment that she didn't find to her liking. So, like any sane person, Jade responded in the most appropriate way possible...

By hitting him with that right hook again.

"Yeah. It is." she said simply. Jade was not a woman of many words. However, she was still smiling and that said more than enough.

Blood began to flow out of the corner of Sylo's mouth. He only shook his head laughing as the warm liquid dribbled down his cheek. His tongue escaped from it's chamber and dabbed at the blood...the taste was something he had become accustom to. The weird thing though was he didn't retaliate. Gone was the Sylo whom would have slammed this woman through the wood of the door and in his place stood a calm giant of a man.

"Yeah, that's the one," He said still chuckling.

He wouldn't admit it but his jaw hurt like hell. His obsession with Jade though was growing and not even he knew why. There was no sense in questioning it at this point. All that Sylo could do was give passing acknowledgement to the fact that it was there. He stared into her eyes one last time before walking past her toward the door.

"Good luck tonight, I'll be rooting for you," And with that he exited the locker room.

Jade would have responded to that, had she been able to. There were few things she hated more than the biting sting of sarcastic words. To speak to her like that was to insult her, according to her logic. Slightly out of breath, and shimmering with a film of sweat, Jade relaxed her taut posture and shook her head.

It was going to be a long night -- she could feel it. Outside, she heard the heavy foot steps diminish and thought of that trickle of blood on the corner of his mouth. For a moment, she regretted not breaking his fucking nose. The smirk faded as she went back to shadowboxing.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing?” He exclaimed. “I know you’re American, but Christ! One would think that a rich slut like you would have at least a bit of manners.”

“Nice to see you too.” She said cheekily before taking a seat in a chair that sat before his desk and crossing her legs after doing so.

She looked radiant under the white light coming from a bulb on Campbell’s office’s ceiling, dressed quite elegantly for an Asylum fighter making her debut in a pair of form fitting leather pants and a vintage low-cut Rolling Stones baby tee. Campbell, staring at her as if he were starving and she was his favorite dish, tried his best not to drool and to keep the impromptu meeting strictly business.

“To what to do I owe this visit?” He asked her, his eyes sizing up every curve of her body as his lips moved.

She scowled. “Joe?”

“What?” He replied.

“I’m up here.” She said, reaching her arm across his desk, grabbing him by the chin, and adjusting his head so that his eyes were locked firmly on hers.

“How unfortunate.” He muttered sarcastically, before quickly changing the subject. “Now, what do you want?”

“Well, nothing really.” She smiled devilishly as she spoke, her lips moving closer and closer to Campbell’s as each syllable left her mouth. “I just wanted to discuss Woman’s Intuition’s debut with you.”

His eyes widened. “You mean we aren’t going with the Hot Baby Oil Death Match?”

“I thought you could hear my idea instead and that maybe we could save the Baby Oil thing for a rainy day.” She said. “Possibly at your place?”

Catching her drift, Joe smiled his trademark grin, a grin that many had seen before he pulled the trigger of his handgun, and spoke.

“Go on then.” He said to Renee’, who was now bent low overtop his hard wood desk.

“I want a fight.” She said bluntly. “Against anyone. Male or female, we don’t care.”

“And risk breaking a nail?” He sighed. “Why not just spend your debut back here with me and let your savage of a partner take care of business for you?”

“Simple.” She said while running her index finger along to collar of his shirt. “You signed both of us. Not just Nikki, who will be hearing about how you called her a savage, by the way. Thus, both of us will be fighting and winning. Understood?”

“I hear you loud and clear darling.” He said, a plan obviously brewing within the confines of his mind. “So go get suited up and meet your opponents in the cage later on, ‘kay?”

“Thank you so much, Joe!” She squealed, giggling all the while.

“Thank me later.” He winked.

“Maybe I will.” She said flirtatiously as she walked sensually out of his office, her bottom shaking with every step she took. “Maybe I will.”

Making sure she was out of sight, Joe pressed a finger to a nearby intercom and spoke into its speaker with a purpose.

“Get Gianni and Silens to my office. Now.”

Jade Vs Sebastian Thompson
(Black Tournament Fight)

Jade's victory in the quater finals of the Black title tournament last week had been extremely impressive, despite the intervention of one Sebastian Thompson she'd held her own with the monster Osyrus and when it came to the crunch she'd survived. This week however she was dealing with a different animal entirely, Osyrus was a lion ready to stalk his prey and tear it apart.

Sebastian Thompson was a hyena, waiting to strike his prey at it's weakest moment.

SMACK.

The first chairshot was absolutely massive, the cracking sound loud enough to hear over the music as Thompson absolutely brained Jade from behind while she was making her way down the aisle, Jade immediately fell to the floor as Sebastian's insane laughter made the hyena comparison all the more justified.

The fighter within Jade saw her immediately trying to get to her feet, but a second shot of the chair busted the seating panel right out of it. With her head now covered in crimson blood from a deep laceration Jade was sent sprawling down the aisle as Thompson measured his neck shot.

Jade had started to scramble up the steps as he sickeningly draw back to swing the frame of the chair sideways into Jade's head. Now her struggle has ceased and as blood continue to pour from her wounds she wasn't moving at all.

Her lack of struggle didn't bother Thompson, who was quick to drag her up by dreadlocked hair to dump her into the Asylum. Pointing the chair frame menacingly at the official who urged for the bell to be rang, a very unfair and unjust match had begun.

As a "Fake Caprino!" chant busted out Thompson screamed back with "Even that cocksucker wouldn't stoop this low, fuck all of you!" before placing his foot down into Jade's back and putting the chair frame under her chin, leaning back as droplets of blood streamed from Jade's head to the canvas, Thompson choked the life out of her with the steel chair as the official urged him to cease his actions.

Thompson unusually obliged, but only because he wanted to drag Jade up and toss her over the Asylum rim to the arena floor. "Jerk Off" by Tool hit the speakers but Thompson still wasn't finished. Clambering out of the Asylum he yanked Jade onto her knees by the hair again before drawing back a fist...

...that was caught firmly.

Thompson found himself spun around and blasted in the jaw by an arriving Sylo, who knocked the winner of the match tumbling backwards... as Sylo tried to protect Jade. He couldn't prevent Thompson from acquiring another chair, which this time had the Superbeast's name on it.

But Thompson never completed his objective, for he was soon dropping the chair to the floor and running to the hills. Ploughing through the crowd as Tyler Burton and Osyrus rushed onto the scene and after him.

He had proceeded to the final, if he could survive that long.

The door opened and Jakob Gianni stepped through it and stared at the seat filled by none other than Joe Campbell..

"Hello ya revolutionary wank!"

"Watch your tongue Joe.. I may get the urge to rip it from your mouth if you don't!"

Joe stared at Jakob as the Psychiatrist made himself comfortable.

"Well Mr. Gianni... You are one half of the tag champs aren't you?"

Gianni shook his head

"Enough trying to play mind games Joe you won't win. Get to the fuckin point and tell me who we are fighting."

"Women's Intuition"

Laughter filled the room and suddenly stopped abruptly...

"So you attempt to use my hatred for you against them... It's a simple plan and if executed on an idiot it works... If executed on a man of intelligance who cares about life... it backfires... If attempted on an individual like say Aryen.... He beats your enemy to death and then uses their body to beat you to death... Campbell.. Don't push this any further than you have.. It will hurt you in the end..."

The door slammed again as Joe muttered the words

"Fuckin longwinded get"

Fuck The Mind© Vs Women's Intuition
(Team Title Fight)

A wide smile on her artificially tanned face, Renee’ Storm came through the curtain first. Dressed in an outfit completely different from the one she was wearing when the Asylum’s viewers had last seen her, Renee’ paraded down the steel ramp and paused before entering the cage, no doubt awaiting her partner.

Not one to keep a good friend waiting, Nikki Carlson, not to be confused with the far less superior fighter Nicole Carson, marched through the curtain next, her large muscles bulging under a tight blue halter top and equally as tight pair of matching spandex pants. She walked down towards the cage, ignoring the chants that had been following her since high school.

“YOU’VE GOT A PENIS!”
“YOU’VE GOT A PENIS!”
“YOU’VE GOT A PENIS!”

The crowd’s loud and obscene gesture cut through the warm air like a knife, igniting a fire within Nikki Carlson that would only be burnt out once she crushed whoever it was that Joe Campbell had lined up to face the tandem known as Woman’s Intuition.

They stood there inside of the cage for the first time and kept their eyes locked on the entrance stage. It was now or never for them. They knew that first impressions meant everything. They knew that they needed to win.

However, as “We Must Bury You” replaced their theme music and the fans that wanted nothing more then to see them get the ovaries kicked out of them stood up in their seats, a proverbial light bulb within both of their heads clicked on and let them know that there was only one thing they really needed to do…

…Survive.

Jakob Jonathan Gianni sauntered through the curtain with a wide grin on his face, no doubt looking forward to the beating that his team was about to give the rookies, who were female rookies no less, that stood in the cage. Behind him, being led by the good doctor, came the massive Aryen Silens, who didn’t give a fuck if the Asylum was Christian approved and probably didn’t give a fuck about hitting a woman either.

They both climbed into the cage at the same time, circling around Woman’s Intuition like vultures on a dead carcass. Neglecting all rules, Aryen Silens struck first and charged at Nikki Carlson fiercly, knocking her to the ground with an incredibly stiff punch to the jaw.

Refusing to give up, Nikki got to her feet and stumbled right back into Aryen’s grasp once more, allowing him to pick her up by her throat and send her flying against the wall of the cage. Her back cracking across the steel, Nikki slumped down against the cage, trying to sooth her pain by rubbing her neck.

Meanwhile, Renee’ had found herself backed into a corner by Gianni. She knew nothing about fighting, of course, so went about trying to get out of a total stomping in the only way she knew how. Crawling like a sexy kitten towards Jakob, Renee’ got on her knees and began toying with the waistband of the pants Gianni was wearing. The Asylum’s cage had seen many things and now it looked as if it would see oral sex, given by a woman who was a professional at it and used it to get her way multiple times.

At first, it looked as if Jakob was going to allow this, but as he raised his fists and clenched them together to form an axe handle, it was obvious that there would be no blow job. There would only be Jakob Jonathan Gianni slamming his two fists down on top of the head of Renee’ Storm so hard that it crunched inward towards her neck like an accordion being played would.

Falling to the canvas in a fetal position, Renee’ lay there, writhing in pain. Stepping over her crushed body, Gianni walked over to where his partner was repeatedly kicking Nikki Carlson in the face and joined him in the action, laying his boot into Nikki’s midsection multiple times before letting the television cameras get a good look at her bloodied body.

Falling face forward onto the mat, obviously unconscious, Nikki could do nothing to help Renee’ Storm, who was for whatever reason trying desperately to climb out of the cage. Aryen chuckled to himself as he walked over to where she was scurrying up the cage, grabbing her by her black spandex tights and slamming her to the canvas. Then, as if she hadn’t already had enough, Aryen palmed her head and picked her up from the mat, allowing Gianni to crack her across the face with his signature standing straight kick, also known as Bury You.

Falling to the ground almost instantaneously, Renee’ laid motionless, bleeding in a large amount from her probably broken nose.

As the ten count was administered and “We Must Bury You” by Katatonia blared throughout the arena once more, the reigning Asylum Team Champions stood inside of the cage that they dominated, victorious again.

And Woman’s Intuition? Well, they had just been welcomed to Hell…properly.

"Token Weed... that's a name you can take real seriously. Now I know why you're the champ, buddy," Asher said with a flat, emotionless voice.

Token Weed looked over his shoulder. The man across the room was kind of skinny, decked in tight, fashionable dark blue jeans and a Dashboard Confessional shirt. His hair was long, but he couldn't tell how long--most of his face was covered by the book he appeared to be reading. Token stood up, walked over, and snatched the book from Asher's hands.

"And that's supposed to mean what, exactly?" His reply was delayed, but Asher stood up. He had his attention.

"It means that you're a joke, in the simplest terms, and I can see that you require the simplest terms."

There was something odd in his tone that Token could sense. This lanky, seemingly weak man had not an ounce of fear about him. God, his biceps were almost as thick as Asher's neck. "And the title around my waist that says I'm the best fighter in the world means nothing?"

"In actuality? Yes, it means nothing. You're the champion of a falling organization, and you hold some kind of pride in that fact?"

Token smiled. "Fuck you," he said with very little inflection before punching Asher right in the face. Instinctively, he readied himself for a battle, but Asher merely stumbled back. He then took a few steps forward to return to the place he was before the act and smiled.

"Yeah, we're not doing this here. We can do it in the ring for that worthless little thing you hold so dear, if you'd like," Asher stated. It would take a lot more than a single punch in the face to get him to fight back.

"Sorry bro, but you're gonna have to pry two-and-a-half years of hard work out of my cold, dead hands." The reply was quick and seemingly a mechanical reaction. He threw the book down and took a half step toward Asher, looking into his eyes in a threatening manner.

For some reason, nothing shook the foundation of Asher's mentality. He kept the cool grin across his face, despite the measure of blood dripping down the cut in his lip. "Do you actually think I care enough to 'pry it out of my cold, dead hands'?" The remark was laced with sarcasm and insult--a mocking tone would do such a thing.

"Well then, cunt face, when and where do you want to do this, or do you want your ass whoopin' right here, right now?" he replied, his voice rising to a yell near the end.

Asher looked down toward the ground and snickered a bit before returning his eyes to Token's. "Wow, cunt face... let me tell you, my seventh grade cousin would be real offended if you were to say that to her, but only because she doesn't know what 'cunt' means. I'm all for next week, if you've got the time in your busy schedule."

"I've got the time, but the way you regard this place, you'll be lucky if you make it 'til then." He scoffed.

"Well, if the great Token Weed, with his undying wit and intelligence can make it... I'm sure I'll own this organization in the next hour."

"Yeah, now get the fuck out."

There was a pause. Asher bent down to pick up his book and rose up. "You got it."

Instead of leaving, he returned to his former position, lying across the bench and reading the book. Token smiled and walked across the room. When he returned to Asher's side, he was unnoticed; Asher was too caught up in the novel. Too bad, since a metal chair to the chest caused him to exhale every last breath and, in all likelihood, left a couple of ribs bruised or broken.

The book fell to the ground along with the reader. Token drove the chair down a few times against the back of Asher's skull, back, and legs. The pain surged through Asher's body with each strike, causing his body to go rigid and and stiff with each blow. He wanted to scream, but something about him wouldn't allow such a thing. When Token was done, he grabbed his bag and belt and left.

For a couple of minutes, Asher lay on the ground with no movements other than the rising and falling of his chest with each deep breath. After, he crawled back up to the bench and grabbed the book.

"Interruptions," he whispered, grabbing his chest in pain.

Aryen's voice was booming..

"Who the fuck does Campbell think he is.."

"Shut up Aryen... We will deal with Joe Campbell in due time.."

The locker room suddenly went silent..

"Ahm fuckin thirsty I'll be back"

Aryen Silens stood up his massive frame almost hiding the door.. The door swung open and

SMACK!

"OW! You fucking twat!"

"Excuse me?"

On the other side of the door "Lucas" sat holding his nose..

"I came to see Campbell not his fuckin sideshow.."

Aryen simply shrugged extending a hand to Lucas.. Lucas looked up for a moment and spit at Aryen. Not a moment later the size 16 boot made contact with Nick Lucaselli's face.

"Time to teach you a lesson.."

Aryen's laughter echoed through the halls as he grabbed Lucas by the ankle...

"That's no way to speak to a fellow Mancunian is it? Have a seat woman." Joe smiled deviously.

Karen made her way across to a seat but soon heard an "Ah." from Joe, who was patting a seat that'd been placed elaborately close to his "I'm a bit mutton jeff... you'll have to sit closer so we can have a proper chat my lovely."

"Alright." Karen said as she cautiously took a seat "But if you touch me I'll break your face."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that my dear." Joe suddenly produced the Asylum women's championship and placed it across his lap "I know how much you want this Karen... so why don't you just reach out and grab it."

Karen narrowed her eyes suspiciously for a moment... before reaching out to grab the belt only for Joe to let it slide to the floor, leaving her hand hanging over his crotch "I knew you wanted it, all this time you've been her and not a single blowjob for a favour exchange. You haven't even tried to fuck me... what's wrong with you? I know Reggie keeps saying you're a lezza but come on, you must fancy a bit of British beef!"

"Fuck you, you perv." Karen retracted her hand and got to her feet.

"Not even for the title?" Joe questioned.

"Not even to save my own life." Karen shuddered with disgust.

The click of something in the background froze her to the spot "You sure about that?" Joe asked as he menacingly looked down the sight of his gun "Don't worry slag, I'm not going to kill you. I'm just going to fire you're rank little arse... it'll be a pleasure to know that you'll probably be on the game within the month, just remember when you're sucking cock number six hundred and twenty eight. You could've gone with one and been paid a lot more for it... now do one you tramp."

Karen scowled and stormed out of Joe Campbell's office for perhaps the last time, he looked down the title belt on the floor and shook his head.

"You're nowt but a waste of time too, I know what to do with you though... oh yes."

Eddie Cheno Vs Frank Minio
(Non Title Fight)

Blood by El-P. Lights dimmed, music played, and Frank Minio emerged from the curtain with his fists in the air. He watched the screaming townsfolk with a quirk in his eye as he walked down to the Asylum, hopping over the cage and began flexing. He had a vibe coming today, it felt different then the other nights.

The lights dimmed and the mocking guitar and bong water bubbling sound played over the P.A. to a huge reaction. Spotlights hit the entrance and Eddie Cheno walked out looking laid back as ever, smiling blankly.

"Smoke two joints in the morning, Smoke two joints at night, I smoke two joints in the afternoon, it makes me feel alright."

Half of the crowd was singing along with Smoke two Joints by Sublime, and Cheno, obviously happy by the support mumbled 'Funkin' shit mang.' while nodding his head. When Cheno reached the Asylum cage, the laid back mask over his face was wiped away and only a serious stare sat across his eyes. The character change actually shocked Frank for a moment, and the two began squaring off quickly, wearing a circle into the mat this early.

The Bell Rang just as Cheno muttered to Frank...

"Ima beat you down like dat bitch ass Ramis."

"I have absolutely no regard for Human life like Ramis, 'Mang'. You're fucked."

And with Frank's reply, he tossed a fierce left that Cheno was expecting, which was quickly ducked. This thing was on. Frank over shot his target and had his left side completely open, which Eddie went for with a right Hook, which sent Frank ofstep about a foot. Frank followed in with a wild right hand that Eddie leaned back from and tossed another right hook this time catching Frank right in the Jaw. Frank stumbled backwards and Eddie roared his fists up at Frank, hollering...

"Ya Mang, lets do this shiz!"

Frank went in again, this time catching flesh with his fist as he punched Eddie Square in the gut, Eddie fired back with a left hook that Frank just barely side stepped before tossing a right hand into Cheno's shoulder. Cheno reeled back and fired off a right fist that caught Frank right in the Jaw, sending him clear off of his feet. Frank crawled to his knees quickly, realizing that a standup box off with Cheno this early was a horrible idea, so he went for a four point stance, and ran right through Cheno, tackling him against the Cage edge, and began driving fist after Fist into Cheno's ribs.

The fans began screaming at the sudden intensity as Cheno struggled against punch after punch against his sides. Somehow, Cheno managed to get a knee up, and drove it so deep into Minio's crotch that every man for about two miles felt weightless in the pit of their stomach. A collect 'ooooohh!' rang out as Frank Minio fell backwards clutching his junk. Eddie took about five seconds to compose himself before he stood up, and lifted Frank to his feet, grabbing him by the shoulders, and then ran him head first against the cage side of the Asylum, but as Frank stepped back after the impact he spun, swinging a wild punch that caught Eddie so hard in the temple that he fell to a knee holding the side of his skull.

Frank teetered on his feet, looking pretty punch drunk, and then stepped, swung his hips and Kicked Eddie on the shoulder, causing the Asylum's Godfather of Funk to the mat in a heap. Frank shook the cobwebs off and then began soccer kicking Eddie in the ribs while Eddie attempted to cover himself against the onslaught. Frank was taunting the entire time he was kicking too, yelling something like "Eat it you burn out cock sucking motherfucking ovary fisherman shit for brains ass mining son of-" but somewhere in about the thirteenth profanity, Cheno sat up, catching the kick with his whole arm against his side, and pushed up, sacking Minio against the ground with determination that would make you think Frank had dropped an 'N-Bomb' in his rant of asshole proportions.

Cheno stood up looking nothing but Fierce at Frank who was sitting up on his knees with his head back just soaking in the pain as it coursed through his body when Cheno stepped back and went for a brutal front side kick to Frank's chest! The impact sent Frank backwards, still on his knees but now stretched out across his back, and Eddie saw opportunity.

Eddie, in a completely unseen performance on his part, took a slight running start, leaping forward, landing with Both feet on Frank's cut in a double foot stomp that caused Minio to let out quite the blood curdling scream, sending chills up the spines of everyone in attendance. Cheno hopped off and began kicking Frank in the sides, giving him a bit of the same treatment that Frank had offered Eddie only moments ago.

Oh how the tides can turn.

Eddie was now ghetto stomping Frank Minio who had rolled onto his belly and was crawling towards the edge of the cage, getting stomped the entire way. Frank was showing immense pain as he dragged himself along the mat, and Cheno noticed that he was hitting some tender areas as he through a boot party on Minio's ass.

Frank Finally reached the cage side and balled up in the fetal position to take the beating as Eddie had just then grown tired and lifted Frank to his feet, choking him outwardly against the edge of the cage, the fans behind their backs screaming and reaching across the gap which they clearly wouldn't reach.

Frank gagged out the words up at the now distinctly's brutal Eddie Cheno as he was literally choking the life from Frank's body... "You're gonna die, motherfucker!" but Cheno only let out a snicker, followed by leaning back and swinging Frank by the neck to the middle of the Asylum. Everyone was quite confused as Frank hadn't even fallen, he just wobbled in the middle of the cage, turning slowly to see Eddie Cheno lying in wait to hit...

A Brutal kick landing right under Minio's chin! The Needle jab! Minio's feet flew from under him and he landed hard on his shoulder blades, holding his face in his palms while rolling and groaning under the pressure of the pain. Eddie Cheno prowled over, giving Frank a healthy kick to the gut, before lifting him to his feet, grabbing him by the shoulders and kneeing him hard in the chest, followed by an elbow to the already aching jaw of Minio.

Minio fell to a knee, and Cheno stepped back, kicking Minio square in the side of the mouth, prompting a long stream of spit and blood from Frank's mouth to the canvas, just before his face landed coldly on the mat. Minio was still stirring however, and Cheno was almost beginning to get board of beating the living shit out of this supposed Up and Comer of the Asylum's roster, and it was showing. Cheno lifted Frank up, heading to the cage side, climbing up on the side of it, looking for YET ANOTHER signaled move, this match was quickly becoming a squash.

As Cheno was trying to lift Frank up onto the Cage side with him, Frank showed signs of life, by standing on his own free legs, only the keenest eye would have seen it, but Cheno did not notice, as he had finally lifted Frank up and was setting up for the beginning of a brain buster by locking his arm over Frank's head...

But wait! Frank's arm goes over Cheno's head... Its a double headlock in a sense, the fans are going nuts as the two fighters teetered at the top of the cage, struggling to jock for position without falling to the outside for a ring out! Frank seemed to get the Upper hand and used all of his strength and Energy to swing Cheno back into the Asylum cage, falling hard down onto the mat face first with Frank on his back! A total disaster for both men!

Cheno was the first to actually roll onto his back holding his head, but Frank quickly followed by sitting up on his knees, finally catching a breath, and a break from a total ass beating at the hands of Eddie Cheno. Frank only watched as Cheno began sitting up on his knees, and both men stared for a split second, both within arms reach... Until Frank struck! Left from Frank to the Jaw! Right from Eddie to the mouth! Right from Frank to the cheek! Right from Eddie to the nose! The last shot had seemed to make Frank hesitated, but instead of punching he Lunged forward, gripping Cheno into a headlock! But Cheno fights it, he stands, holding Frank's weight on his back!

Cheno takes a step forward, and another, and yet another, but Frank is holding onto the headlock! Cheno stumbles, falters... and falls face first! Minio overs to the side locking Cheno in a rear face lock, wrenching on the submission square in the middle of the Asylum's cage. Frank was growling as he squeezed on the lock but Cheno wasn't out yet, he began throwing wild punches over his shoulder which Frank attempted to dodge to no avail. About the third punch caught Frank hard in the lip sending another squib of blood across his cheek and Cheno's fist, and in a moment of uncertainty, Frank released the submission and Eddie crawled forward coughing, but recovering.

Frank was only checking to see what had busted open when he realized it was his lip, and it was inconciquencial. He was on his feet, glancing around at the screaming fans when he realized that Eddie Cheno was standing. Finally, both men on their feet, both men ready for battle yet again. Frank squared off on Cheno, who raised his fists and nodded, knowing he could out box Minio any day of the year. Minio however had other ideas, and when Cheno had thrown the first right fist, Frank ducked low, side stepped, and brought a Phantom Kick right against Cheno's ear, maximum force, maximum execution.

Cheno went down like a sack of bricks, straight to the mat. Frank looked around to see if the outside officials were counting for a knock out, feeling the fight was well over, but when he turned back around, Eddie Cheno, the Television champion, was already climbing to his feet. He was feeling the kick though, and looked pretty wobbly, stumbling side to side, but he was on his feet, and he was still in the fight.

Frank lunged in looking for a left fist but as he cocked back, Eddie put a left hook into Frank's rib. Minio doubled over and Eddie Cheno charged back, and let loose the most vicious uppercut of the month right on Frank's chin. It was like poetry in motion, watching Frank fall backwards, the spit and blood floating from his face. Time moved in slow motion as Eddie Cheno laid a knockout shot square on Frank Minio's beaten face.

Frank Minio fell on his back, and as the fans were screaming for the end of the match, he immediately rolled onto his belly, pushing to his knees, but Eddie Cheno was a man who had enough of Frank Minio. As Frank was about three feet from the edge of the cage, with his back to Cheno, Cheno ran forward lifting Frank by the legs and attempted to force him over the cage side!

Frank's lower back was rolling on the railing of the cage, Eddie had Frank by one leg with one arm and was trying to force him over the Cage side at the chest with his other, the fans behind them were livid, Frank was fighting like it was hot lava on the bounds of the outside, Eddie was fighting like hot lava would be poured inside the cage if he didn't finish Frank now.

Eddie forced and forced, and now his ass was on the edge of the cage, Cheno had this won! Cheno was about to make the final shove when a sharp pain crashed across his temple. Cheno tried to rationalize what it was, what made his knees buckle below him, his ankles fall to jelly, his arms lose their strength. It was the silence around Eddie Cheno as he watched Frank Minio screaming at him that made him aware that he had been hit. Frank's free leg had crashed across Eddie Cheno's temple, his rock hard leg and bested the rock hard fists of Eddie Cheno.

As Cheno's grip released Minio's leg, Cheno fell backwards to the mat, and Minio began slipping backwards out of the Asylum. Frank's hands barely caught the railing of the Cage side, and as he slid back into the Asylum, Cheno fell coldly to the mat. A moment later, as Frank stood in stance waiting for Cheno to get up, the bell rang announcing the knock out of Eddie Cheno. Frank Minio had won the Non-title matchup against Eddie Cheno.

He was well on his way, as he hobbled to the backstage area holding his ribs and jaw line.

The sound of leather on skin...

CRACK!

Jakob Gianni laughed under his breath.

"Hey Aryen... I broke the bat on our friend..."

THWACK!

Aryen's fist made contact with the blood covered face of Lucas.

"Aryen lets get outta hear before Campbell's fuckin medi... DAMMIT!"

Jakob Gianni's eyes locked on the camera and a moment later it dropped and hit the concrete floor in the dark dank room.

As the battery low light came on the sounds of screams echoed in the room...

Inmate Vs Osyrus
(Interim Black Title)

They knew the Inmate of old would’ve given his left arm during a fight here in Asylum, but they knew full well they wouldn’t be able to expect that in a fight with a fellow Team Campbell member. Especially not when the fans all knew that Joe Campbell himself had orchestrated the fight for exactly that reason... so one of ‘his’ fighter would get the easy win.

Little did the fans, or Campbell for that matter, realize that the man already stepping into the cage, and the man about to come out had their own game plan. That being... fight.

Creep by Radiohead started and the fans didn’t miss a step in their booing efforts.

Osyrus walked slowly down the aisle, thinking about the fact that Joe Campbell wanted him laying on the ground for 20 seconds. You could almost see the anger creeping across his face.

Osyrus stepped into the cage. Inmate stood watching.

Both men knew full well that the other didn’t want things to happen as Joe had told them. They were not pawns in a game. They couldn’t be. Or at least they couldn’t let themselves believe that.

“I hope you realize Joe isn’t here now, and you’re gonna have to earn this.” threatened Osyrus.

“Hey if you think you got what it takes.” Inmate no sooner had the words out of his mouth before he attacked.

He levelled Osyrus with three straight shots, and then took him down with a step thru leg trip. But both men knew this was not the type of fight to be won on the mat, and Inmate back himself off quickly, as to not risk the chance of being caught in a hold that could hurt him later on.

Osyrus was stunned, but he was quick to recover. He was on his feet within seconds, because he knew he had to be.

Inmate shot out a kick towards his team mates face, but Osyrus blocked the kick. Osyrus tried for a trip up, but to no avail. inmate saw it coming, and avoided it.

Both men had now tasted it. Intensity. and they both knew they were about to be in for one hell of a fight.

Inmate taunted Osyrus, and avoided a kick attempt, then quickly jumped out of the cage, taking the outside the confining mesh steel.

Backstage Joe Campbell had just caught Sebastian Thompson rummaging through a pile of ring parts. He thought nothing of it, and in fact he laughed to himself thinking about how he just fucked Thompson out of the chance to fight out there right now.

Meanwhile, the fight between Inmate and Osyrus had gone into the crowd. As you can imagine...two Team Campbell members fighting in the crowd was more incentive then the Asylum fans needed to cause trouble. Earlier in the evening the fans had envisioned a vicious fight for the Black Title. Now they’d get it.

Osyrus had taken the advantage over inmate, but was now bothered by taking care of fans who were shoving and pushing at him from all angles. Inmate was also starting to be kicked at and spit on. Osyrus had given in, after striking several fans in the face., he headed back over the guard rail to some degree of safety. Inmate wasn’t so lucky however.

Inmate was almost a full minute longer shoving his way back through the blood thirsty fans. One fan actually had the balls to slap Inmate, no doubt the fan’ll be spending several thousand dollars in the near future if he plans on having a half normal smile again.

As Inmate climbed over the guard rail, Osyrus had been waiting, and was ready.

SMACK!

Chair shot to the forehead, as Inmate climbed over the rail.

SMACK!

...and another.

Inmate had taken plenty of chair shots before, but they never seemed to get any softer.

As he lay on the cold arena concrete, Osyrus knew that he had to give Inmate a few minutes to recover so he would be able to win the fight as Joe had wanted. So Osyrus took the time to think something out.

What can you do with a wooden table, a 6 foot aluminum ladder, and a bent steel chair that hasn’t already been done.

Who the fuck cares. Just use them and get it over with. That was Osyrus’ line of thinking.

Smack. Another chair shot.

Crack. Inmate being suplexed through a table.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

A ladder being driven onto the back of the Inmate.

Joe Campbell had now just stumbled upon a television backstage, and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Not only were Inmate and Osyrus actually fighting, but Sebastian Thompson was on his way down the ramp way wielding a steel pipe in his right hand.

Osyrus say this and knew it was the cause of only one man.

No, not Sebastian Thompson.

Joe Campbell.

Osyrus saw Thompson coming down, and knew right away that he was about to be punished for what Joe Campbell was sure to see as disobedience.

“...start wearing a bullet proof vest...” Joe had said earlier in the night. and now Osyrus was faced with the bullet coming straight for him.

Bang. That was the sound of the ladder as it caught Thompson off guard.

Osyrus had stunned Thompson, and was now going to make sure that he and Inmate could rightfully finish what they had started. Unfortunately for Osyrus, while he was busy kicking Thompson, Inmate had taken the opportunity to grab the pipe that Thompson had dropped.

Inmate waited for the perfect moment, and when it presented itself...

1...2...3...4...

The ref knew that Osyrus wasn’t going to be getting back up, not anytime soon. Inmate had nearly caved in his skull with that pipe shot.

13...14...15...16...

Thompson was slowly getting to his feet, just in time to see the Inmate toss the pipe towards him and smile.

“I owe you one Thompson.”

19...

20.

Thanks to Thompson, Inmate had won. But it’s just a matter of wondering what might have been had Thompson not interfered.

But that doesn’t matter now.

Pausing before a door marked “Campbell”, Renee’ shot a harsh stare through her already swollen eyes, blood dripping from her possibly broken nose all the while.

“I’ll meet you back at the locker room.” She said plainly and seriously to Nikki, her partner and best friend.

Nikki raised her eyebrow, cringing from the pain as she did so because the area around it was busted open and bleeding. “What? Why?” She asked curiously.

“I just have something I’ve got to do.” Renee’ replied. “Just go.”

Nikki said nothing, not wanting to risk an argument with the only friend she had in the Asylum and in life in general. Walking away from where they stood, Carlson looked back at Renee’ sympathetically, as if to say “be careful” without actually saying it.

Renee’ simply ignored this. She didn’t need her blessing. She just needed to speak to Joe Campbell. Sighing heavily through her swollen nose and her dry mouth, she knocked lightly on his door with a fist that could do nothing against anyone inside of the cage.

“Come in!” Screamed Campbell from inside of his office.

She twisted the door’s knob and entered, wiping the dripping blood from her nose with her forearm as she came before the man who would hereby be her boss.

“Ah, Ms. Storm.” He said. “How nice of you to drop by.”

“Why?” She coughed, ignoring pleasantries and allowing a droplet of blood to fall from her face to his carpet.

“Do try and not get blood on this rug.” He demanded through his thick British accent. “I just had it cleaned from…well…the last incident.”

He changed the subject quickly, obviously not wanting to discuss an activity that was most likely criminal. She had no problem with this, as she didn’t want to make small talk in the first place. She just wanted answers.

She asked once more. “Why?!”

“What are you on about?” He asked in reply. “Has that beating turned you into a crazy? Shall I call the white-jackets and have you disposed of?”

“You know what I mean Campbell!” She screamed, her voice squeaking with anger. “You set me up! You set us up! You knew they’d murder us out there! Why in God’s name did you do it?”

“Oh…” He said, as if coming to some sort of realization. “…That.”

“Yeah!” She yelled. “That!”

Campbell stood up from the chair he was sitting on and made his way to where she was standing, wrapping his arms around her and trying to comfort her quivering body.

“I don’t see what the huge problem is here, my dear.” He whispered into her ear. “You asked for a fight with anyone. I gave you what you wanted.”

“You didn’t give me anything.” She replied, her tone still loud and rebellious. “You just gave Fuck the Mind something to play with.”

“Only because you crashed in here earlier thinking you could take on whoever I handed to you.” He sneered. “Lesson number one, you slutty little prat, confidence and positivity are null and void when it comes to the Asylum. That shit might work in professional wrestling, but here it’s as useless as a gun safety pamphlet in Kenny Rock’s right hand.”

“Whatever.” She said, not wanting to take Joe Campbell’s lesson in Asylum etiquette. “Thanks for nothing.”

She pushed him off of her and limped out of his office, slamming the door as she made her escape and ended her tandem’s debut into the promotion that was now their new home.

And what a debut it was.

DRUMBEATS
SCREAM!

Welp they were fucking wrong as "Halo" by Soil played on as Token stepped out onto the tA ramp, his title raised high into the air. He continued his march down the ramp into the Asylum. He called for a microphone, he stood silent for a moment before beginning.

"FUCK YOU Asher Rollins." Simple statement, very simple and blunt statement. But managed to get the point across, "You inconvienced me this evening. Being the cunt that you are and not stepping into the damned cage with me tonight. So now? I ask once again for any fucking cunt in the back to get out here and fight me!." Token stated, mocking some of the larger words to piss Asher off.

"Edgecrusher" by Fear Factory blared through out the arena as the monster emerged forward from behind the curtain. Token stood in the ring analyzing him before once again making a blunt, but yet true statement. "I've fought bigger, and better." He said calmly as he looked at Sylo. "Well then Weed, I shouldn't be much of a challenge then?" Sylo stated as he looked onwards to the cage. Quite possibly into the eyes of the best fighter on the planet.

"Come on then punk, come down and here and break yourself off a piece. See where it gets you." Weed stated as Sylo quickly obliged by walking to the cage.

Token Weed© Vs Sylo
(Asylum Championship)

The angered Sylo pressed forward once more as Weed quickly countered and sweeping Sylo's feet out from underneath him. Sylo was back up on his feet in a hurry, but the smaller and faster Weed was already there and met Sylo with a devastating roundhouse kick that sent him right back down to the ground. Much quicker than he lifted himself off of it.

"Come on you giant pro wrestling monster, you wanted a fucking piece, come fucking get some!" Weed shouted mockingly to Sylo who managed to get to his feet slightly dazed.

Sylo shook the cobwebs from his head and stared at Weed. He smirked a bit and Weed charged only to be clocked in the face with a giant boot to the face. Sylo roared and now it was Token's turn to taste blood. Like the animal he was Sylo jumped on top of Token and drove left and rights into his face. With one powerful right hand blood splattered onto the mat and Sylo roared out once more wiping the blood on his chest in a symbolic fashion.

Sylo stood up and roared out to the fans throwing his hands in the air. They booed as he held his hands up high.

Big fuckin' mistake

Token had gotten to his feet and now charged forward shoving Sylo head first into the cage. Sylo's head bounced off and he hit the mat hard. Token took advantage of this by beginning to lay kicks into the ribs of Sylo who only roared out in pain.

Token content with the rib kicking grabbed Sylo's blue mop of hair and slammed it into the cage once more as he drug it along the wall of the cage. Making it a point to cut Sylo as much as possible. Finally Weed stopped and delivered a sharp boot to the back of Sylo's head that caused a cut in the shape of a cage link.

The fans cheered as Sylo's blood began to pour across the mat. Weed took a step back and roared, a blatant attempt to fire Sylo up even more. Sylo got to his feet and swung a powerful right hand that grazed Weed's chin. Weed cocked back and sent a vicous stepping sidekick towards the big man who caught the kick and picked Weed up and slammed him onto his back.

Sylo went for Weed's leg. He held on tight and with all his strength threw Token into the side of the cage with a clinking thud. Sylo only laughed at this as he moved over to Weed and drug him up by his hair. He then lifted him on his shoulders and drove him down with a tombstone.

Cerebritis

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But Weed climbed back up to his knees. Sylo snarled and moved forward only to be nailed with a low blow. Weed jumped to his feet and nailed Sylo in the face with one hell of a soccer kick which sent the big man into the side of the cage. Weed began to drive a series of kicks into Sylo's large frame putting the big man on the defensive once more.

Token grinned as he kicked away at the monster who was beginning to look more and more like a bloody and bruised apple. Token let Sylo get to his feet as once again he swung his leg and drilled Sylo with a stepping side kick that planted him firmly against the cage. Almost to the point of rocking back and forth.

Sylo was clearly dazed as Token approached him and clutched him by his neck "I told you Sylo, bigger and better." Token stated as he cocked a hand back and drove a right hand into the monsters face. The enraged Sylo stormed forward and clubbed Weed with two hard right hands across the face.

"Bigger and better this mother fucker!" Sylo yelled as he stomped on Weed's face. The impact could have easily broken his nose and the blood flowing out was a clear indication he had busted something up. Sylo continued his assault of stomping on Token until he was satisfied.

"Ready to go for a little ride bitch?" Sylo asked as he picked Token up and rammed him head first into the side of the steel cage making it dent a little. The fans reacted with an "Ohhh shit" as Token slid down the cage, bleeding. Sylo spit a wad of blood to the side and watched as the count began again.

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No! Token got to his knees and stumbled to his feet. Sylo charged forward and Token stepped to the side tripping Sylo and making him land neck first on the cage rim. Sylo fell back and held his throat in pain as Token locked in an arm bar and all seemed to be over from there.

Token let the hold go as he hopped to his feet and drilled Sylo in the face with a downward heel kick. The sickening smack was heard through the arena as blood sprayed into the air. Token yelled to the ring announcer for his chair. First he shook his head no, then it was apparent that he had no choice as he tossed Weed the chair after Weed made a throat slitting motion.

By this time Jade had come out to the edge of the Asylum cage. Her hands on her hips as she stared at the big man. Sylo noticed her and shook his head as he tried to get to his feet.

Token waited for Sylo to get to his feet and tossed the big man the chair. Sylo caught the chair and brought it forward going for a home run into Token Weed's face. Token grinned as he jumped into the air and pumpkicked the chair back into Sylo's face. Sylo flew outside the cage and landed once again next to Jade who began to pound on Sylo.

Token only shook his head and laughed as he held the Championship high in the air. Bloody and battered, both men had been through hell but Token had come out on top.

Jade finished her assault and spit on Sylo as she headed to the back. The last image seen was that of Sylo laying on the ground a bloody mess...except he had a smile on his face.