Sometimes war is the only answer.

All he needed to do now was get to the head quaters and summon the troops.

Rounding the corner of the corridor Campbell came face to face with the door of his office and the hammer and sickle emblazened upon the door.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Joe grunted before hammering the door furiously with his fist "Let me in there you Russian bastard."

"DYAAHAAHAA!" Could be heard from the other side of the door "I think not, capitalist pigdog."

Joe scowled to himself.

"Laugh all you want Boris, I'll be back here with support in five minutes to knock the door down."

"DYAAHAAHAA!" A second patronizing laugh came from behind the door "And you will be defeated."

Joe sighed.

"AHAHAHA!" He roared out loud "Then I'll just slide this little proposal under the door you vodka swigging ape, it's in English so I tried to make the letters nice and bold so your thick brain can digest them... just give me a yes or not as to whether or not you agree the terms."

Campbell took out a sheet of paper and read it from top to bottom.

Best Of Five

Karen Pembridge Vs Wilhelm Von Krauser

Jesse Ramey Vs Reginald V. Lovecraft

Lucas Vs Boda

Eddie Cheno Vs William S. Powell

Token Weed Vs Ivan Stanislav

"Just give me a yes or no commie, that's all I ask." Joe spoke as he slid the sheet under the gap in the door and a few seconds of silent contemplation passed.

"Da." Ivan grunted from behind the door.

"Erm... so yeah, just a yes or no answer." Joe said with a fold of the arms.

"Da." Ivan insisted again.

"Are you fucking deaf? Yes or no?" Joe scowled losing his patience.

"I accept your challenge, capitalist." Ivan growled as Joe rubbed his hands together and walked away "But know this... it will be over in three."

Campbell's confident smile slowly faded away as he continued down the corridor in search of a new office.

To clean up The Asylum.

The strap on his tote bag was giving him problems, and he adjusted it as he turned a corner. He quickly froze and frowned at Joe, who was taking a break from office hunting. He lifted a cup of hot coffee, and blew on the smoke that was rising from the surface. Chester watched as a fighter stumbled into the picture, right behind the clueless Campbell.

Chester winced as Banderas collided right into Joe's back, making him spill some of the hot coffee on himself.

"Goddamn it!" Joe screamed as he wiped the hot brown substance from his shirt. He turned around, and looked disheartened as he saw Bandy standing before him.

"I being sorry, Mr Campbell! I just needing to talk you!" Banderas said sincerely as he tried to assist in wiping away the coffee.

"Get off me, queer!" Joe barked as he shoved the brute off. Both of them paused for a moment, then became startled as something clapped on the cement behind them. They broke their eye-to-eye stare to watch Ramis enter the picture. Ramis nodded to Joe first, then scowled at Banderas.

"Sometimes sorry just isn't enough."

"Who you be?" Banderas asked curiously.

"Do you want to stick around and find out?" Chester hissed as he inched closer to the Columbian. Banderas was confused. Surely, his scalp was about to crumble because of all the harsh head-scratching.

"These Asylum fighters. Humph. I haven't found a sober one yet."

"Bah, I don't think he's a drunk. Probably just---"

"Don't worry, Joe. No need to explain. I'll take care of this little problem right now."

Campbell sat and pondered, only to smile in the end. "Well, go ahead, then. Should be fun watching the two of ya going at it later, eh!" Joe said before walking off.

Chester shook his head as he took a quick glance at Banderas' dumb face.

"Drunk bastard..." Chester murmured before walking off. Leaving Bandy confused and slightly pissed.
He'd just been drawn into a fight. Not something he wanted considering his recent troubles.

“Six days,” Mercy was getting a bit impatient. Their conflicts had slowly boiled past the biggest stage in the Asylum land, and was now getting on all of their nerves. “Six days and this all ends.”

They turned the corner, looking to head to their assigned dressing rooms. However, they wouldn’t get there, because they bumped into trouble. Lucinda Scott bumping into the massive body of Nick Brandish, coyly smiled, but Karen and Mercy touching sent their blood red with rage. Each one wanted to lash out now, have their match tonight, end this. Or maybe they just wanted to release some frustrations. Whatever the case, while Lucy and Nick had a small awkward silence, Karen and Mercy were locked in a cold gaze.

“That’s if I bloody let you end this, Mercy!” Karen snapped, not backing down, even though her only backup now was Lucinda Scott, who was anything but a fighter.

“That’s a fairly big talk from someone like yourself.” Nick chimed in, taking a look at Scott before returning his gaze to Karen. “And just so you two know, if you have anything planned for Everything or Nothing...” Nick stopped for a beat, “...you better include a way to detain me, because I’ll be just inches away from the fight, making sure everything goes according to our plan.”

Lucy stepped back, gasping at the comment. “We? Have something… planned? I can’t believe you’d think something so auda…”

That’s when Lucy broke down into laughter. “Oh God, I couldn’t continue that charade. I’m sorry.”

Mercy and Karen exchanged one final glance before Nick pulled her away. They continued down their path to the locker room, as Lucy and Karen stood in the hallway, not returning to their prior engagements. That’s when Karen threw a kick toward the nearest table, sending refreshments flying into the air. Lucy caught a Danish before it touched the ground, and Karen looked at her, fuming in anger.

“What? No point in wasting food.”

Karen grunted an “Urgh,” before storming away.

”Fine! I’ll put the Danish back!”

The Lassie turned the corner and continued to fume, her fists rolled up in balls. The thought of maiming Mercy at EoN was overruled by the cockiness of the latter, backed up by the mammoth Nick Brandish. Because Karen knew that in six days, she would have her chance to end it all.

But first, she had to be prepared.

And the sight of a backstage official running towards her made her heart skip a beat...

"I heard that Stanislav guy actually took Joe's office." Ramis pitched in from beside Frank as Umaga Reihana came into the shot looming behind the two and cracking his knuckles.

"Had about enough of this, lets crush some skulls."

The three nodded in agreement and Frank placed a hand on the curtain before being abruptly stopped by an "Ah ah!" that had all three individuals turning back to the corridor to face Joe Campbell, who'd just arrived on the scene.

"Something I should know, you lot look ready to fuck somebody up."

Frank stepped forward to stare Joe in the eye "Somebodies."

"Ah... the Red Army I take, now why would you want to do a think like that?" Joe questioned with a raised brow.

"Like I said last week, Joe." Chester Ramis stepped in "I'm here to fight, not to watch a circus act... we're gonna clear these idiots out."

"Now why would you want to do a thing like that?"

All three Flatliner's sighed almost consecutively and prepared to reply.

"When you can sent a few trained chimps to do the job?" Joe added garnering a look of intrigue from the trio "Chester, you've got a bit of business with that Banderas cunt tonight but it's likely nothing you can't handle. Frank and Umbongo... er... Umaga, you two can have a rest because I've got some of Asylum's finest taking care of the Soviet shitbags in a best of five series...

...then when they've slugged their guts out to save us, we'll be fresh for Everything Or Nothing to slug our guts out."

"To destroy them?" Umaga cut in with a wry smile.

"Bingo." Joe smiled back snapping his fingers "Good to know we're all on the same trail of thought, enjoy yourselves tonight."

With that Campbell made an exit, leaving the Flatliners to discuss what was to come.

"Well that was bullshit." Ramis said, leaning against the brick wall, staring at the adjacent mounted by a Hammer and Sickle. Umaga was still debating in his head weather or not he should chase Campbell down and break him in half for the name botch up.

"So are we still going to go other there and destroy them?" He asked, his large body booming the words over his partners heads. Frank turned to Ramis, clearly leaving this one to Chester.

"Nah. Lets give the boss a chance to feel like he has some control I guess. The commies are thick right now, thats alot of fighting we would have to do. We could do it, but, it would be a waste of reserve if the street garbage is going to clear a path. We'll wait." Ramis explained, peaking out of the curtain again.

"This wouldn't be such a big deal if I didn't just hate Communists!" Frank said as he slapped the wall.

Umaga had his own plan on showing his loyalty between the tA and TRA war. He stomped over to the far wall, grabbing the Communist symbol at the sides from the wall, he grunted as he ripped the propaganda right off of the FuckHead logo. Frank had a grin on his face, watching, and Ramis glanced and saw and went back to watching the curtain.

A black man strolled past in the hall, cautiously, his shirt bulked up below, as if he was packing. Frank and Umaga bothed watched the man pass, and after a moment even Chester turned seeing the man walk by. The team all looked slightly confused as he passed, and he glanced over at the group with the same look of mental struggle. When he was just out of earshot Frank said in a hushed tone...

"Damon D?"

But he was gone. And Team Flatlined had more work to do. There were ALOT of Fuckheads being covered by the Red Army logo.

Chester Ramis Vs Banderas

Banderas charged from the back, obviously frustrated at what had just transpired backstage. He walked somewhat unusually down the ramp, ignoring what little reaction he received. Climbing into the cage, Banderas felt like breaking something. His face gnarled with "anger," but it really looked as if he were constipated; That, or he had drank some rotten beer. In any case, Banderas became somewhat soothed by the laughs that floated in from the audience.

“The Soviet National Anthem” echoed to the crowd again as another fighter emerged from the back.

Chester Ramis felt invigorated as he stood at the ramp's top. Clothed in blue jeans and a "Team Flatlined" T-shirt, He looked down on the audience like God looks down on his creation. Ramis peered deeply into the crowd, who was clearly thirsting for a happy helping of violence in their varying mental states.

He then walked down the ramp, turning his leonine head side to side as he made his descent. He shook his head with disgust at the meager crowd response, and pounded his fist in his hand as he continued. Ramis stopped just before he reached the cage. He let out a deep breath as he watched light bounce off the steel meshing. He then looked up at Banderas, and grinned snidely.

He wasn't taking part in the bout for just himself. This was for Joe. This was about turning his screenplay's fiction into a reality. This was everything Team Flatlined stood for.

Ramis really wanted to do his part to clean up the Asylum. Banderas was a first step, and he had a full intention of making the match a quick one. Characteristically nervous, Chester couldn't be any more ready on this night. His mind sharp, and body ready, Ramis had no doubts he would come out on top and make a good first impression.

And moments later, he would.

Chester Ramis jolted his body forward, as if to intimidate Banderas.

Unfortunately for him, it didn't work.

Bandy stood unwavering, and initiated the match by rushing Chester to the mat. Chester's eyes lit up as he was leveled to the ring's surface. Banderas' fists flailed blindly in Ramis' face, to which he was successful in defending.

"Nnnnghhh," Chester mightily growled as he pushed Banderas off his chest. Ramis sprung to his feet and clobbered Banderas with a sidekick to the cranium. The snap heard from its connection caused the fans to grunt with sadistic pleasure. Banderas shook his dizzy head as he stumbled to his feet. He staggered around as if he were inebriated, which is just what Ramis initially interpreted backstage. Chester turned to the crowd and rolled his eyes, not knowing it was all just a setup.

Ramis was totally oblivious to the wrestling term of 'selling', and he paid the price for his ignorance. Just as he turned back to his opponent, Banderas smashed his elbow into Ramis' face. Chester shouted with surprise as he jumped backwards, gingerly keeping his footing. Ramis felt his mouth, and noticed there was some fresh blood trickling from the corner. He stuck out his tongue and moved it over the open wound, only to slide back into his dry mouth. Next came a grimace, with blood-tinged teeth. Banderas looked on curiously. Chester smiled.

"Hit me again." Chester implored stiffly as he softly patted his own cheek. Banderas nodded enthusiastically, and the two began circling around the Asylum. Jeers and boos quickly arose from the crowd in light of the lackluster performances, and Ramis shot a quick glance at the audience. His smile only grew wider as Banderas loaded up for a punch. Banderas cocked back, and threw a fist with all of his might.

The reversal, and execution of the "P3", proved to be worth much more than the show's admission. Ramis side-stepped the punch and planted a crippling front kick to Bandy's abdominal region. Chester wouldn't even allow his opponent to double over before shoving his right knee into Banderas' ribs.

Banderas hacked uncontrollably as Chester backed up. Bandy looked as if he were ready to spew, and a handful of tender spectators closed their eyes. Banderas bellowed out in excruciating pain, as Ramis watched callously. Ramis looked back at the audience as Bandy heaved helplessly for air. He let out a sigh of relief as the fans applauded. Ramis finally felt at home.

Without deviating from the current situation too much, Chester returned his sights to the Enlightened member. He walked over and stopped at the hunched Columbian. He quickly bent his arm and snapped his elbow into Banderas' neck, who in turn collapsed on his face.

No one needed a ten count to see that Banderas was thoroughly messed up, and Chester began to leave the cage. He was quickly stopped, and told to turn around until the official count was given. He disagreed, and shook his head vigorously as he asked for a microphone. He soon got his wish, and toted the mic over to his fallen adversary. He lifted it to his mouth, and shouted the count.

"1!

2!

3!

4!

5!

Hey guys...This is just a hunch, but I don't think he's gonna get up," Ramis said casually as he poked Bandy with the tip of his shoe. The fans were loving it. Shrugging in the process, Chester Ramis continued:

"6!

7!

Ramis stopped and patted an open palm over his mouth, as if he was about to holler like an Indian. No sound exited his mouth however, so one could only assume he was yawning.

8!

9!

10!"

Finally, it was official. Ramis had won his debut match. He approached the TNN camera and grinned, giving the folks at home a wink. He lifted the mic once more as he turned towards the Asylum official.

"There. Ya happy?" Chester asked angrily. The fans, thinking the question was directed to them, started cheering emphatically. Chester looked up at the fans and shook his head at their gullibility. He felt awkward leading the audience to cheap cheers, so instead, he told everyone the truth as to why he was there.

"This ones for you, Campbell." He said with a grin as he glared into the camera once more. Talk about easy heat. The fan's allegiance switched quicker than Ru Paul's gender preference. Now, overwhelming boos and a few pieces of trash rained down on him.

Chester was in awe at the stark switch in atmosphere. The fan's approval meant nothing to him, and he concluded his performance by dropping the mic near an incapacitated Banderas. It was then that Ramis left him and trekked into the back, leaving the Asylum die-hards mixed in reaction.

Ivan jumped to his feet in a fit of rage as Jesse Ramey came out onto the entrance ramp with a boom box blasting “Cold War Transmission” by Anberlin. The crowd’s mood had relatively changed as Jesse just smiled and Ivan’s temper began to flare even more.

At the motion of Stanislav, the entire Red Army stood up from their posts and clambered around their leader. Stanislav trudged around the Asylum to stand at the bottom of the entryway, barring Ramey's way from making it to the ring. With Boda to his right, Ruslan to his left, and the other seven Red Army members behind him, Ramey would be insane to try to attack the mob of Red's.

Jesse started to chuckle even more as he sat down his boom box, turning it off in the process and waving for Ivan to settle himself, “Hold up there big fella. I’m not about to come down and pick a fight with all of you, but I am glad I was able to get under your skin.”

Stanislav turned to Ruslan and barked something in Russian. Ruslan squinted before consulting a book in his trench coat. Ruslan muttered something back towards Ivan, who instantly started to laugh in his typical, maniacal laughter. The rest of The Red Army joined in.

"DYAAHAAHAA!!" Ivan chortled, "I knew Ivan smelled failure! Jesse Ramey… you have not changed, boy!! Why have you condemned us to listen to your voice, gnat?" Stanislav fixed a twisted suspender and ground his jaw.

Jesse laughter turned to a very angered face, “I’ve come out to challenge you Ivan!” The anger showing more and more on Jesse’s face, as the crowd only grew silent with the sound of what was coming from Jesse’s mouth, “I wasn’t a failure! I was held down! By you and your stinking Red Army! I had my chance to do something good in Old School Wrestling nearly a year ago and your Red Army members had to screw me out of any chance of success I had!”

Jesse paused for a second trying to regain his composure before turning back to Ivan and looking at him with the most serious look in the world, “You’re the only person left of THAT Red Army and I want you Ivan!”

"How stupid you are," Ivan retorted while waving an arm to his side, "for the majority of my Red Army still stands beside me, eh Comrade Ruslan, Wang, The Women, and Riggs as well as Comrade Stanislav himself. Things have not changed much, my boy."

Ivan turned to the crowd and waved dramatically, "I give little boy Ramey here roughly three weeks to survive in this federation before he disappears once again, he has proven time and time again that his reliability, and ability, for this matter, is less than stellar." The Red Army laughed again while Stanislav turned to face Ramey again, now much more serious. His voice boomed through the arena, enveloping all those around him, "Jesse Ramey, real fighters and wrestlers with ability and dedication gain honor of fighting me, not flash in pan upstarts and want to be's. Go bother someone else, fly!"

Jesse lets out a tremendous roar and throws his arms into the air before looking back at Ivan, “Stop laughing at me you stupid, stinking Communist pig! My entire career I’ve been laughed at! I’ve been held down by people like you always saying I’m not reliable when I was the only person willing to go the extra mile to get things done!”

Catching himself before he does, he regains full control of his body, which was getting ready to run down the ramp and probably be annihilated by the entire Red Army, “Thinking about you only makes my blood curdle, Ivan! Those ones around you that you say haven’t changed, were nothing to begin with, except that of lackeys who meant nothing to me or anyone else that came your way, they are no challenge!”

“You are the one I want and the one I’ve been training for so long! I watched OSW and your members drop like flies until you were the only one left and I know your weaknesses!” Jesse begins to chuckle, “You call me names, Ivan? When you’re only a big stinking crybaby! We’ve all seen that from your occurrences with Tempest!”

Stanislav scoffed and disregarded Ramey with a flick of his hand, "Save your juvenile banter for someone that will be dense enough to listen, child. Also, while you are at it, stop blaming your failures on other people and accept it for yourself. Now, take your little radio and leave us, before I send Comrade Lovecraft up there to annihilate you himself."

Stanislav shrugged and turned to walk away.

“You know what Ivan?” Jesse had said in a very calmed tone, unlike the rest of his tone prior to Ivan turning his back and walking away, “Go ahead and send Lovecraft to me, I’m more than willing to show you just how much your Red Army has dissolved.”

Stanislav stopped in mid turn before slowly turning to face Ramey again, "You… you are serious, boy?"

Jesse could only chuckle at the fact that this whole time Ivan had only thought he was joking around with him, “When I say bring it; I mean it!”

"So be it, Jesse," Stanislav said flatly, "you have your date with destruction in the form of Comrade Reginald Lovecraft… now get out of here, before we decide to destroy you right here and now!" Ivan raised his arm up, as if signaling for The Red Army to prepare for a charge.

A smile had come across Jesse’s face as he reached down and picked up his boom box, “Oh and by the way, Ivan.” Jesse brought his finger down once again and the boom box began to blast “Cold War Transmission” by Anberlin, “Das vidanya, Red Army!”

The Red Army, in response, laughed as one and Jesse walked out of the arena to a minimal response from the crowd.

Karen Pembridge Vs Wilhelm Von Krauser
(Best Of Five)

He limped down to the cage, a look of concern of the faces of Ruslan & Stanislav. Speedy Riggs frowned as his comrade stepped into the cage, wondering what happened to Krauser. Unknown to them, one of Campbell's newest minions had been up to his dirty tricks.

That served the tA representative nicely. Also she had no 'sodding' clue as to why on earth Campbell would throw her into the middle of this.

But for Karen Pembridge, a fight was exactly what she needed.

The British Lassie bit her lower lip in agitation, as the "Soviet National Anthem" started back up again, stopping for a moment or so, allowing the fan to hurl their jeers at Krauser & Riggs in the cage. The jeers didn't quite disappear as Karen -- wearing her black jeans and black t-shirt top with the small sleeves -- stormed down to her desired location. There were a few scattered cheers of approval, however. She WAS fighting the enemy.

And as she jumped into the cage, Speedy Riggs motioned for the fight to get underway.

Krauser, in his weakened state and all, quickly advanced towards Karen... who lashed out with a wicked raised knee smash into the German's face, sending him staggering backwards. The whiplash of his neck being jerked back somehow had an adverse effect on his whole body, and Wilhelm grabbed the side of his ribs, the pain from the earlier beatdown still smarting. Not that Karen cared much, she simply rushed forward and took him down with a spear-esque move, drawing more cheers from the crowd.

And a frustrated low growl from Stanislav.

Karen began unloading with a flurry of punches, as the earlier words and actions of Mercy & Brandish began to flood her mind, driving her nuts. She was on her very last nerve, and completely absorbed in swearing revenge, instead of making sure her punches had enough devastation packed behind 'em. This allowed Wilhelm to headbutt her in desperation, and also got the British Lassie rolling off him.

Getting up gingerly, Wilhelm wiped the sweat off his forehead and slowly advanced on Karen, who arose to her feet... somewhat dazed. The Brandish/Mercy thing was sapping her concentration, but as Krauser spun her around to try & connect with a wild swing, Pembridge ducked and let loose with several raised knee smashes into the German's abdominals, gritting her teeth as she did. After five shots, Karen had Wilhelm doubling over in absolute agony, as the crowd worked itself up into a frenzy.

If you'd known Karen long, you'd reckon she would go for the side DDT-esque move now. Instead, she jumped into the air and brought her right elbow down into the back of Krauser with immense force, releasing some of the tension from her tightened state! Wilhelm Von Krauser collapsed in a heap on the mat, and Speedy snorted, having to initiate the count;

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

It was gonna take more than that to ground The Mad Commandant, and he was quick to return to a kneeled position. Karen shook her head and ceased leaning against the cage, slowly sneaking up on her opponent. Once Krauser attempted to lift himself up, The British Lassie charged at him, looking to smash her right foot into his face via a sidekick. No chance, as Wilhelm caught the foot and spun Karen around by the leg. Doing the full 360º, Pembridge was surprised to find The German Shooter springing up, knocking her down with a ferocious clothesline!

Wilhelm was far from done, however. He pulled Karen up and used his slightly superior mass & muscle advantage to ram his forearm into her face, before kicking her in the gut and throwing the Lassie over his head exquisitely in a head-and-arms suplex! The crowd jeered, expectedly; looked like Krauser was going to revert to his arsenal of suplexes.

Landing somewhat awkwardly, Karen tried to fight the burning pain to pick herself up, but the burden of an impending fight to worry about at Everything Or Nothing made it seem as if there was a 600 lbs man pinning her to the ground. Riggs had the pleasure of counting;

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

Finally, Karen had recovered, but her bearings were incredibly askewed. This gave Krauser the chance to sneak up behind her and cinch in a waistlock, before... drilling her with a standard german suplex! But, the German Shooter made sure the waistlock was still locked in as he pulled himself, and Karen, up. The cloud of jeers grew, before suddenly morphing into jubilant cheering. Karen had no intention of being planted with another suplex, and mulekicked Krauser, relinquishing the hold. Then, without doing a complete turnaround, the girl from Manchester struck with a Windpipe Smash!

Before taking one step forward and letting her self fall backwards... allowing her to execute a brilliant bicycle kick! Truly amazing skill shown from the Lassie, and Wilhelm Von Krauser is down again, prompting Stanislav to engage in a secret discussion with Ruslan, while Speedy starts the count;

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

Amazingly, The German Shooter was back up on his feet, clutching his face, still feeling the after-effect of the bicycle kick. Karen Pembridge wasn't overly happy that her risk didn't pay dividends, but she grinned as Krauser stumbled all over the cage, his marbles all over his face. And as the Red Army member turned around...

Powerful roundhouse kick with right foot.

A sneaky leg-sweep with the left leg.

The entanglement of Krauser's feet with the left foot, before the locking in of a unique elevated ankle-lock.

What do you call it?

RANCOR~~!

Wihelm screamed in pain as soon as the submission move was cinched in, and as Karen's eyes gleamed with excitement, the crowd roared maniacally. All they wanted to hear was one simple thing. And within a few seconds, they got it.

*TAP*
*TAP*
*TAP*

Karen let go of the hold and spat, before shooting Speedy Riggs a sadistic grin. The job had been done for Campbell and a preparation of her own for Mercy had worked out well. The girl from Manchester quickly left the cage and made her way to the back, fists still clenched.

The thirst hadn't been quenched. But that wasn't the story.

tA - 1, Red Army - 0.

That was the story.

Had to be Joe.

"I've got a job for your miserable self."

Intriguing.

Last time Joe had a plan for Lucas, it involved locking him in a room with Gage Braydon... And resulting in a huge fucking headache.

"What?" came the harsh, dry reply from Lucas. He didn't sound too thrilled about the upcoming.... Well, upcoming whatever.

"Just for once, I think you can make your sorry arse being here worth my bother."

Lucas rolled his eyes. He hated even being around Joe, the man who's likely the only reason he's still breathing.

"I need a few monkeys to go out there and fight those Commie bastards... And what better specimen than you?" Joe quipped, the usual sparkle in his eyes.

Lucas paused for a second and stroked his chin, almost chuckling.

"Let me get this right," he coldly questioned, "You... Want ME.... To go out THERE... And fight for THIS place?"

"That's one way of looking at it," Campbell mused, "Another would be you going out there and giving everything you have in that useless body of yours to beat Boda, or I'll toss you back out to the wolves and you can spend the rest of your sorry life in prison...

...Likely becoming the wing bitch...

...Nicknamed 'Sperm Bank'."

As Joe grinned broadly at his own joke, Lucas blankly stared back at his boss.

"And what makes you think I don't want those guys running this place?" Lucas directly asked him, "They're exactly what I've been hoping for."

Campbell shrugged it off.

"And I've been hoping for you to accidentally shoot yourself in the face, but we can't have everything we want," Joe quipped, "But, if I end or little agreement, end your period of sanctuary here...

...I can see you getting shot in the face by most of your fellow inmates...

...Amongst other things."

Snarling, Lucas realised things would be going Campbell's way.

"Fine," Nick bluntly retorted, "I'll fight him....I'll beat him for you... But I hope your other four bitches leave the cage feet first."

Oh, the loyalty.

Nick Lucaselli v Chris Sloboda - the Asylum v the Red Army - 2 very different men...

...Ultimately wanting the same victor at the end of the night.

Or maybe he was just rusty. Or maybe he was just so against the idea of fighting that he was programmed to automatically suck hardcore at it. In which case, why put on a facade that he was all peachy with the situation, Karst thought.

And within seconds, he answered his own question.

Shrugging his shoulders, Matthew continued his exercise routine; loosening up his calf muscles. After the meeting with Campbell earlier in the night, Matthew Karst found out that Bandy and himself HAD been given another chance, despite the fight the previous week being inconclusive.

Joe was going to give them one more chance. At the Everything Or Nothing extravaganza. Where the two buddies would have to duel each other again. And this time, a winner HAD to be found.

Hence, the fight being a Submissions-Only Fight to avoid any questionable endings.

Until then, Campbell had actually given Karst & Banderas the chance to get prepared for their fight and allowed them clearance to remain in the building. Hell, Bandy had already used the opportunity and gotten himself into trouble with Chester Ramis, resulting in an absolute demolition. And as for Matthew?

The way he conducted himself earned him assurance that he WOULD have to fight. Against who? That was the element of surprise, it seemed. An official would inform the adolescent several minutes before the scheduled fight was supposed to go down of what Matthew had to do and who he was up against.

So, the challenge had been set, then. For the survival of The Enlightenment, drastic measures had to be taken. And as far as Matthew Karst was concerned, Banderas finding out about the entire situation...

Wasn't acceptable at all.

Jesse Ramey Vs Reginald V. Lovecraft
(Best Of Five)

Riggs began to joke around with Lovecraft in the ring and the two were nearly coming to their knees with laughter as Jesse Ramey made his way out onto the entrance ramp for the second time tonight.

RAGE!

It hit Jesse so quickly as he noticed the two men standing in the ring laughing with each other and he had begun to blot down to the cage. The crowd was already in an uproar as Jesse had quickly found his way into the cage and started throwing blows to the side of Lovecraft’s skull.

Each punch rocked Lovecraft more than the next one, until Jesse kicking Lovecraft in the gut and rolled him into a quick snapping neckbreaker.

Riggs was in shock at this point in time and the only thing he knew to do was make Ramey leave Lovecraft. Sending Ramey into a complete fit of rage, the actions by Speedy Riggs only brought a smile to The Red Army sitting at ringside.

Knowing he couldn’t possibly do anything at this point in time because he would instantly be taken out by the rest of The Red Army for laying a hand on Riggs, Jesse could only stand by and watch Riggs help Lovecraft back to his feet.

“Let the old man go and fight his own fight you stinking Cuban!” Jesse yelled out towards Speedy Riggs, who obviously took offense to the comments and left the side of Lovecraft to come and confront Ramey on his comments.

This only caused Jesse’s attention to be distracted as Lovecraft had regained himself and came at Jesse with a sharp clothesline that nearly took his head off.

The Red Army was once again pleased at this point in time.

Jesse lay on the floor of the Asylum cage as Lovecraft smiled and started to stomp away at his body. The smile on Lovecraft’s face only grew more and more when he picked up Jesse and was getting ready to toss him into the cage, but to his amazement Jesse drilled him in the stomach with a sharp kick and planted his head into the canvas.

The crowd was beginning to get happy at this point in time as Jesse clinched his legs around the head of Lovecraft and held tightly onto his arm in some sort of choke hold.

The Red Army members once again didn’t like the looks of things and were protesting everything that happened.

*Thud*

A boot came down on the side of Jesse’s head as Riggs had taken it upon himself to stop the way things were going, but little did he know what he was about to get himself into, as Jesse had already let go of the hold on Lovecraft and was no focused on the small black man standing in front of him.

Riggs had tried his best to plead with Ramey not to do him harm and the rest of The Red Army was protesting once again on the outside of the cage, but this wasn’t going to stop Jesse. He had thrown his fist back and was nearly ready to bring it in, but was stopped by a very “out of it” Lovecraft.

A smile had come over Jesse’s face even more at this point in time as Lovecraft was already nearing an end because he had already been psychically drained. At his old age, there wasn’t much more left of him until a strong left came flying right into Jesse’s face.

Silence

*THUD*

Jesse’s body came rocking to the floor with an enormous crash and Lovecraft smiled as a roll of quarters had dropped from his hand.

Riggs was even more overjoyed than the rest of The Red Army as he enthusiastically counted the ten on Jesse.

Riggs continued jumping up and down in the ring at this point raising the hand of Lovecraft and the crowd was throwing one more fit. Ivan had nodded his head to Lovecraft who had already started exiting the ring as Jesse finally came to and was rubbing his jaw, hearing the Soviet National Anthem had just realized what had happened.

Riggs continued smiling as Jesse had made it to his feet and gave him an evil stare, along with the rest of The Red Army as he had started his walk to the backstage area, holding the side of his face as it continued to hurt from the impact of the quarter roll to his face.

A celebration was in store for the Red Army and it had already begun.

Something that was anticipated by many for a long time.

As her body continued to tremble, signifying that the itch to undergo more extensive preparations for the titanic clash at the impending extravaganza, Karen's eyes fell upon a strange figure in the shadows. A woman, no less. Arms crossed, her squinting eyes staring at the Lassie with hatred. Pembridge wasn't quite in the mood for a little staredown and continued on her way, her mind occupied with many different things.

"That was a horrible fight, Karen."

Of course, by then, there was only one thing to think about.

"And who the bloody hell are you, cunt?"

The mysterious woman sniggered, before stepping out of the shadows. What the girl from Manchester saw was somewhat unexpected. Judging by the voice, the image she'd just been exposed to wasn't completely flattering... or matching. But the more interesting point was, the woman that was now standing nose-to-nose with her appeared as if she could definitely fight her way out of a lion's den.

Black tanktop, black pants, black boots. And with a facial expression that spelt trouble.

"Jade is the name. And I'm surprised, I would have thought a twat like you would have destroyed that guy out there within seconds. You got lucky out there. Shameful to watch. I feel sick being a woman because of that display by you.

You're... like a wrestler, really. No skill, nothing."

Karen smirked as she too crossed her arms now and arched an eyebrow, staring back at Jade. One of the newer fighters to the scene in theAsylum. The Lassie had heard a bit about her from the grapevine, and from Lucinda. Nothing that impressed Pembridge match, but her words were fighting words.

And fighting words meant... a fight.

And a fight meant... one last chance to prepare.

"Then surely, you wouldn't mind this wrestler kicking your cheeky cunt out there, aye?"

Jade's face was expressionless... but after a couple of seconds to think it over, she nodded. If a fight was what Karen wanted, the newcomer was more than willing to oblige. She too had the burning desire to unload some frustrations on an innocent victim.

And truth be told, Jade was happy. Karen Pembridge had fallen into her trap.

"This will be interesting."

"You bloody well make sure it is."

Fireworks, anyone?

It had found it’s way into the pit of my stomach and was slowly beginning to work its way into my soul.

How to overcome the problems that had come upon me wasn’t going to be the easiest thing in the world to relieve, but I did know one way to let it go.

*CRASH*

A broken mirror had started to crumble into shattered pieces and yet I was still able to see my face through it, as it still wasn’t broken the way I had wanted it to.

The look from the other side of the now broken mirror only looked mocking to me and was causing matters to become worse as I was beginning to get to the point where I could even stand myself now.

“AHHH!!!” Jesse let out a roaring sound as his fist had begun to fly through the air and go smashing into the rest of the broken mirror, causing the rest of it to fall to the ground.

He had opened his mouth a large wad of spit came out splattering on the crushed glass beneath his feet, “That image is gone and from here on out, I live for this.”

He had raised his hand and the blood was pouring from his knuckles a sick look came across his face.

Krauser walked over a semi cocky saunter in his step as he handed one of the leaflets to Gianni. A wry smile crossed Gianni's face as he hung up his cell phone turning to the smaller man before him. "Capitalist, there is still hope for you if you join the Red Army." Krauser said in a proud stern voice. "Oh really? Oliver I make sure to know my enemies before I face them and you and the Red Army are by no confusion my enemies." Krauser stood up straight looking up slightly to stare Gianni in the eyes as he whispered. "My name is Wilhelm and if I am your enemy then let us do battle right here!" Gianni smiled and laughed slightly to himself before turning his head away from Krauser's gaze.

Krauser smiled victoriously at the gesture until Gianni removed his glasses dropping them to the floor and turning back. "My my, A man named Oliver on his birth certificate but calls himself Wilhelm to those around him. I understand if Oliver isn't a good enough man to stand before those around him but to hide behind a facade of lies and delusion simply because you know yourself to be weak. Kind of pitiful if you ask me Oliver." Krauser's teeth knashed as he turned away and then turned back laying a right to the jaw of Gianni. Gianni turned his head slightly spitting out a little blood and smiling. "You know Oliver, physical aggresion is normally a sign of short commings. or possibly, fast cumming? You know they make a pill now that makes the duration of arousal last longer." Gianni smirked as Wilhelm's face turned red with anger.

"Enough talk Gianni! I challenge you to a match!" Wilhelm glared angrily taking a step back. Gianni shook his head still calm still composed. "Wilhelm, Oliver.. Whoever you are today. If I waste my first fight on something as obviously easy to take advantage of as you are then these people will have no reason to fear what I bring to the table. And so long as they don't know what I bring they must by default fear it. But how is this. I have a friend.. He doesn't give a damn who knows what he can do." The camera slowly turned to behind Krauser where a man nearly 7 feet tall stood over him. Wilhelm spun on his heels and sent a shot to the mans's jaw but the man didn't even show signs that it connected. The German slowly backed up as the large man glared down and whispered to Krauser "Das war ein Fehler." Gianni didn't move as the behemoth grabbed Wilhelm palming his skull in one hand. Wilhelm struggled to get free as he was lifted from the ground and slammed skull first into the Fuckhead Logo.

Wilhelm dropped holding the back of his skull as Gianni looked up at the giant man and smiled. "Great Aryen, You bloodied the Fuckhead. I know Joe is gunna be excited about that!" The monster known as Aryen smiled disturbingly as the two left Krauser in a small pile.

Karen Pembridge Vs Jade

The British Lassie was already in the ring, trading glares with official Speedy Riggs, who had the urge to go over and hump her. Then again, it was a weird night in the world, so disregard that. "Soviet National Anthem" started up again, and the lights dimmed, as Jade slowly came out from the back, frowning in disgust that her actual theme wasn't being played. Slowly strolling down to the cage, Jade & Karen exchanged dirty looks.

They knew this was gonna be a dirty fight. And Jade made sure of it as she reached cageside, grabbing several chairs and tossing them inside the cage. Pembridge simply grinned and cracked her knuckles. She didn't need weapons, but if Jada Marie Hunter needed 'em... let her be.

Finally, Jade jumped into the cage and the battle began to wage. Two female fighters, hungry for success... and for each other's heads. It was set to be a great fight.

Immediately, both combatants started off by slugging each other, packing power behind their punches. Jade, being bigger and fresher, had the distinct advantage... quickly wearing Karen down with her hooks. But as Jade attempted to knock her opponent down with a spinning backfist, Pembridge jolted herself back to life and ducked the attack, executing a knife-edged chop to the back of Jade's neck. A variant of the Windpipe Smash, that sent Jade staggering down to her knees. Just a few inches away from the steel mesh of the cage.

Something clicked in Karen's head and she lunged forward, unleashing a flying dropkick.

*CRASH*

Jade's face flew into the mesh with incredible velocity and the debutant grunted in agony, as Karen quickly pulled her up and started focusing on her spine with clubbing forearms. Jade winced with every shot, and eventually lashed out with a reverse elbow. Pembridge ducked and surprisingly pulled out a belly-to-back suplex from her playbook.

The saving grace was, it was on a chair. So it was deemed HARDKOR~! by the fans. Speedy Riggs admonished Karen for the usage of the chair to her effect, but the girl from Manchester simply ignored it, and smirked as she returned to her feet, Jade still flat on her back.

1...

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Jade was quick to return, to her feet, and growled at Karen, who quickly charged at her again. A backheel kick to her abdominals had Jade turn the tables on her more experienced opponent -- experienced in terms of tA, of course. Pembridge was startled by how much effect the kick hard, and found it hard to breathe properly all of a sudden. Jade didn't care much, however. She simply lunged into the air and drove the side of her knee into the Lassie's face, sending her sprawling into the cage wall.

Karen wasn't going to allow herself to be defeated this way and with the help of the steel-mesh, rose to her feet. Jade was none too happy about it and grunted as she charged at Karen again.

Who simply retaliated with a wonderful running standing sidekick, knocking the spittle out of Jade. She collapsed to the mat, her mouth now bleeding, and the bloodthirsty fans cheered. Now only was the fight well and truly on.

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Jade jumped to her feet, acting as if nothing had happened, and made a beeline for Karen's head with her right arm. Naturally, Pembridge saw it coming a mile away and ducked the wild swing, firing back in response with a powerful left-handed backhand smash, causing the wound in Jade's mouth to worsen. She sucked it up; or in this case, down; and stayed on her feet. Which, in actual fact, only allowed Karen to punish her with stinging right hooks. Each punch sent Jade's head jerking backwards, the crowd solidly behind Pembridge now. Finally, The British Lassie broke the routine with a sidekick to the debutant's gut and as the latter doubled over in pain, an elbow shot to the back of the head.

It was as good as over.

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Except that it wasn't. Karen was obviously frustrated that Jade didn't stay down, and her pittling little challenge didn't come to a shameful end... although one might point out how the Brazillian was schooling the Brit just moments ago. Dominance in a fight means nothing nowadays, and Jade proved it, taking a few scurried steps back as Karen attempted a dropkick. The girl from Manchester crashed into the mat face-first and presented Jade to an opportunity.

An opportunity to take away from Karen her greatest weapon.

She jumped onto the rim of the cage and with thousands of people screaming for her to die, the debutant took flight... soaring through the air, a sadistic grin on her face. Eventually, she landed and people stopped cheered for the brutality involved in the move, as Jada Hunter drove her right knee into the back of Karen's right knee.

"AAAAAUGHHHHH!"

Looked like the 'newbie' had a fetish for bringing a whole world of pain.

Jade nodded, liking the way she'd fought so far... and leapt forward, knocking heer adversary with a shoulder block. The Lassie tumbled down to canvas gasping for air, but slowly got to a kneeling position. Which actually didn't do her any good. The crowd cringed collectively, as Jade viciously kicked Karen in the face, as if she was kicking a football. Pembridge flew across the cage and her head into the steel mesh of the cage with some impact. Again, Riggs wasn't overly pleased with how brutal the fight was turning out, but he started up the count anyway;

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Karen, despite blood now trickling down her nose, wasn't about to lose this fight to Jade. She forced herself up, with the help of the cage, and glared at the advancing Jada Hunter, suddenly lunging forward and lashing out with a wild swing.

Jade ducked easily and wrapped her hand around Karen's throat, the crowd growing uneasy. The other hand of Jade quickly shot up as well, finding Pembridge's throat very enticing They had an idea of what was to come, and they didn't like it. They didn't even believe it was possible. Immediately breaking out into huge garbled jeering, the audience watched...

As Jade drilled Karen Pembridge with a sitdown chokebomb!

"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"

Jade sniggered as she got up and leaned against the cage, looking down at the winded Karen Pembridge;

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Jade growled, and waited until her opponent was completely upright, not able to believe her eyes. She had thought that enough was done to keep the machine known as The British Lassie down, but Karen was obviously much tougher. On her feet, Karen turned around and found Jade charging at her, evil intent inherent in her eyes.

Pembridge ducked and waited for Jade to turned around, before sidekicking her in the jaw. Didn't really knock the debutant off her feet, but at least it startled her. Grinning, Karen thought about how it was enough, and kicked her rival in the abdominals, forcing her to double over... before underhooking the arms...

AND SCORING WITH ONE HELL OF A DOUBLE-UNDERHOOK POWERBOMB! WOAH!

Jade was down and out, unable to quite lift her torso off the mat, and this served Karen well as she caught her breath and watched as Riggs made the count;

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Jade somehow managed to get her exhausted body up, and kept herself in the fight. The sudden change in momentum had taken quite a lot out of her, and the exertions of the fight itself was draining her. The desire was still there, however. But Jade was blind to one thing.

Karen wanted to win. And she was gonna do anything.

...

Including a wonderful move known as a full-spin butterfly kick, instantly breaking Jade's nose?

"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"

The reason it was made much more special... was because the kick knocked Jade off her feet and over the rim of the cage. Riggs waved his hands wildly in the air, signifying that the fight was well and truly over! The British Lassie panted, and shook her head, unable to believe how tough that'd been.

"Almost ready."

And as for Jade, she lay a mangled mess on the outside, the crowd admiring her for her valiant efforts. But in tA, you don't get anywhere with valiant efforts.

You get to the top by winning.

“Damn, she better get back here soon. Think I wanna bend her in half and try that on her.”

Before he could turn another page, the door burst into the room. Before Nick could get to his feet, two men rushed at him and knocked him off his stool. He landed on his back and started to roll to his side when two more men dove onto him with flailing fists. The four of them all attacked at once, punching and kicking any exposed piece of Nick they could find. In the doorway, Lucinda Scott stood with her hands on her hips.

“It didn’t have to be this way Nick.”

On the floor, Nick was waiting. Taking a beating, but waiting. Finally he saw his spot - a foot stomping down on his face. Nick grabbed the ankle with his left hand, the toes with his right, and snapped it ninety degrees to the left. As the now-hobbled man fell to the side, Nick rolled to his feet. He reached for the second man, taking a punch to the mouth in the process. Grabbing the punching man around the throat, Nick drove his forehead into the man’s face.

The third man grabbed the stool and slammed it across Nick’s back. He turned around and blew a bloody gob out of his nose. “You hit like a bitch,” Nick grumbled. He grabbed the stool’s leg and his attacker frantically tried to pull the stool away. Nick jerked him forward and, with his attacker off-balance, he drove him backward and slammed him against the wall. Nick swung his sledgehammer fist and caught the helpless man in the side of the head with a series of hooks.

Nick watched the fourth man flee from the room with Lucy as number three collapsed on the floor. Nick chased after them, throwing the stool at the last man’s legs. He tripped up and fell to the floor. Nick was on him before he could roll over, grabbing the back of the man’s head and bouncing his face off the floor repeatedly. As a puddle of blood began to form around the unconscious man’s head, Nick looked up at Lucy.

She was standing in the stairwell, looking quite pleased with herself. “Not bad Nick,” she shouted. “Too bad Mercy didn’t have the same luck you did.” Brandish stood up as the door to the stairwell closed. It took a moment for the bloodlust to pass over him and his senses return.

“Shit!” He shouted as he ran down the hall. “Mercy!”

It's all about luck, baby.

Eddie Cheno© Vs Matthew Karst
(T.V. Title)

It took Eddie Cheno six months to get his first crack at championship gold, a failed attempt at dethroning Nerva for her World Heavyweight Championship.

It takes Matthew Karst just weeks to get a crack at Eddie Cheno’s television title.

Whatever the case, Cheno has no qualms. He’s a fighting champion. Anyone wants a shot, just knock on his door and he’ll defend his belt.

And today’s show is being broadcasted on t.v., so he feels obligated.

The Russian National Anthem once again played, and out from the back walked Matthew Karst. Karst entered the cage to a small amount of cheers, but since he was a wrestler competing in the Asylum, or at least, the fans believed he was, he wouldn’t be receiving quite the amount of cheers his opponent would.

That’s when the Russian National Anthem played once more, but this time, the crowd popped huge. Receiving their schedule ahead of time, they knew that coming out next was Eddie Cheno, especially since this was announced to be a Television Championship matchup. Cheno walked out from the back, fresh, and knowing that he had the odds stacked up against him, with having to face Powell later in that same evening.

Cheno walked out toward the cage, and slowly climbed in, much like Hulk Hogan used to do in WWF Steel Cage Matches. He raised the title high, and jumped off the top, before handing the belt to the referee.

Karst hopped from foot to foot, trying to avoid Cheno’s blows as he walked in. Cheno looked for a right hook as the bell rang, but Karst dogged, grabbing Cheno’s hand as he did and crucifixed him. Rolling for a pin that was invalid, Karst instead turned the move into a submission, pulling back at Cheno’s arms in what would have been a Crucifixed Ring of Saturn. But the position allowed Cheno to roll backwards, picking Karst up on his shoulders, and playing to the crowd. Karst tried to keep the hold locked in, but it was no use, as Cheno threw him to his side and drove him into the canvas in a beautiful dvd attempt.

But Karst landed on his feet, completely flipping out of the hold. Cheno stood up, a bit dazed and confused, before Karst charged forward and clotheslined him to the mat. Cheno coughed a bit, his windpipe being the source of the shot, before Karst picked Cheno up and dropkicked him, head first, into the side of the Asylum cage wall.

Cheno looked up, a bit of blood falling down from his forehead, as Karst had locked in a sleeper behind him. Seeing that this had worked for others in the past, during his training, he knew he could put Cheno out with enough pressure.

But Cheno began standing up to his feet, and rammed backwards into the cage wall, driving Karst back first into the unforgiving steel, to a huge pop. Cheno turned around, and looked for Clearin’ da Funken Table.

Missed.

Cheno threw his body into the cage once again, as Karst then grabbed his blue fro and threw him head first into the cage wall again, furthering the cut from earlier. Karst was looking to attack Cheno’s head, daze him enough to put him out for the count, or to make him make a mistake.

Cheno twisted his body, and with that momentum, delivered a vicious right cross that sent Karst spralling across the ring. Cheno definitely had the reach, the weight, and the experience all to his advantage. Karst however, had speed and staminia, and he’d have to use them to win.

Karst returned to his feet, but was so dazed from the punch he couldn’t block Cheno’s attempts. Cheno locking a front headlock, and wrenched the hold in. He lifted Karst up, holding him there much like the British Bulldog would, looking for what would probably be a delayed Vertical. But Karst rigged the eyes, and Cheno dropped him onto his feet. Karst, behind him, hooked Cheno’s head and drove him into the canvas with a neckbreaker.

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Cheno slowly got to his feet, his face covered in blood, but he wiped that all away and looked to end this fight soon. He still had another one to go.

Karst looked to kick Cheno in the groin, but Cheno caught the kick, and Karst looked for an Enzeguri. Cheno however, in mid-Karst-Flip, delivered a vicious rising Uppercut that sent Karst Flying into the steel cage.

Clearin’ Da Funken Table. Out of the Enzeguri.

Karst laid on the Asylum canvas, still getting used to taking punches weekly in a day in and day out phaze, and this was the king of all punches…

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Karst, to Cheno's surprise, recovered to his feet. But he was quite dazed from the blow, and Cheno looked to finish him off.

And delivered yet another Clearin' Da Funken Table to the confused Karst, which sent him completely flying out of the cage and to the floor below.

Cheno had defeated Karst, who gave him quite the run for his money.

But maybe that’s why people don’t receive title shots when they first enter the Asylum.

Each day in the cage is a learning experience.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

They’re startled awake from this loud moaning of an air horn.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

"I’m here!" Reggie Harrison-Willis hollered at the top of his voice as he burst through the door. He wore a loose leather jacket and leather pants with a plain maroon T-shirt underneath the shiny jacket.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

"Stop that please, Sir" a security guard asked politely.

Reggie just looked at him shocked that he was even there. He glared at him as if he’d just broken into his home. RHW hopped up into his face, held the air horn against his ear.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

The Security Guard fell over as Reggie continued to walk on. Reggie shook his head, swinging his gritty dreadlocks from side-to-side. He saw a man bending over a box writing something on a clipboard. He couldn’t resist. He had to stand behind him, stick the air horn just behind his rear end and….

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

The man hopped up - almost falling into the boxes.

"Ha! This was so worth $15!" He chuckled to himself. As he strolled around the corridor with a cocky hop in his step. Then a door opened.

"What the fuck was that beeping noise?" Joe grumbled whilst stumbling out of his office... which in fact following the Red Army take over was merely a closet that he'd stuffed a desk into, like a bear com

"YOU! YOU CUNT! YOU FUCKED UP AGAIN! I’M BEGINNING TO ASK MYSELF WHAT GOOD IT IS HAVING YOU ON MY ROSTER!"

"It was an accident. I was going to win, but he fooled me. I’m pretty pissed off."

"YOU’RE pretty pissed off?"

"I’m a great athlete!" Reggie butted in, trying to boast his skills.

"Oh you are, are you? Well prove it. At the PPV you’ve got Jesse Ramey and if you lose your out on your arse - right where you came from!" Joe Campbell walked back into his closet office. "Useless twat."

Lucas Vs Boda
(Best Of Five)

A reluctant one, at that.

As Nick Lucaselli walked slowly towards the Asylum, the crowd all had the same thought entering their minds... What's to stop him just throwing the match to piss them off? Or to make a mockery of the Asylum?

Well, the prospect of a bullet in the head, maybe.

For the first time, a few cheers filtered through the murmuring, which seemed to annoy Lucas more than his usual greeting. Speedy Riggs was there to meet him as he hopped down into the Asylum, the Cuban official running a suspicious eye over the former law enforcer. Lucas' eyes drifted towards where the Red army stood... Tall, proud, solid in their beliefs.

He almost hoped they'd win tonight. Hoped they'd take over the Asylum and bring the order it needed. Hoped Stanislav would break Joe like a twig.

It took all he had not to salute their marvel.

Another bout of jeering erupted as the Red Army's fighter entered the fighting area, his domineering figure towering high above the other 2 men in the cage.

Former 2-time PCW Champion, current OSW Champion, the Big Bad Boda Daddy.

Chris Sloboda.

Lucas circled the Czech giant, his fists clenched as he realised he wasn't fighting for the Asylum now, but maybe for his own health... Boda wasn't here for a quick win, he wanted to crush... To show his worth and do his Title proud.

But, wait...

Fulfilling his referee's duty, Speedy took it upon himself to check Lucas for any weapons or illegal objects.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Where's the fun in that?

But as Lucas was being patted down, Boda got bored of waiting.

*THWACK!!!*

A big boot caught Lucas under the chin and sent him flat down onto the bloodied mat. Dazed, Nick padded his lip for traces of crimson before hurriedly rolling to his right in order to avoid a crushing stomp to the head. Lucaselli needed to get to his feet, and was helped up by the huge hand of Boda, gripping his throat and yanking him up.

Like a trophy, the OSW Champion held Nick up by the throat, displaying him to the fellow Red Army members.... Before landing a clubbing blow to his face. Again. Again. Again.

Boda dropped the Asylum's fighter, who just managed to land on his feet.

Maybe not a bright idea, as Boda then clotheslined his head off... Metaphorically, of course.

Each blow Boda landed nearly seemed to knock the bones out of Lucas' body, kicks to the ribs now causing tA's representative to wheeze and heave in air.

It was looking like a sure-fire win for the Red Army, and the worried Asylum fans noticed too.

With a handful of hair, Boda effortlessly pulled a near-limp Lucas up, and then panned his gaze into the crowd... What would REALLY piss off these blood-thirsty, visceral fighting lovers?

Then, he did it.

The ultimate finger up at the fighting crowd.

He might as well of spat on their parent's grave.

A body slam.

That fucker.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

The thunderous jeering told the crowd's frustrations... Not only were the Red Army ordered, disciplined, honourable.... They were.... They were.

Wrestlers.

*Spit*
.

.

.

.

Anyway...

Lucas tried to crawl back to his feet, but a knee from Boda sent him flying against the Asylum mesh, where the shadow of the giant Czech was cast over him. Closer and closer the OSW Champion got, then he reached down, grabbed, and....

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHH!!!"

...Received a row of knuckles right to the balls.

You may hover around 7 foot, you may weight near 350 pounds, you might have the OSW belt... But a shot to the nuts still slows you down.

Boda doubled over, his face a picture of pain... And Lucas was OH SO sympathetic... Showing said sympathy by kicking up square into the Czech's face. Nearly toppling over, Boda just managed to stay on his feet, but an uppercut to the jaw changed that, sending OSW's Champion down onto one knee.

At ringside, the Red Army didn't seem worried, and if they were, they certainly weren't giving it away.

*CRACK~!*

The point of Lucaselli's knee connected with Boda's jaw, laying the Czech out flat... Vulnerable for a split second. Lucas pounced, straddling Boda and landing fist after fist into his face. The punches weaved in-between Boda's guard, picking their spot around the nose and eyes...

...And after 10 seconds, Boda stopped trying to block.

Good news for Lucas? No.

The 2 gargantuan hands of Chris Sloboda clamped around Lucas' throat, instantaneously cutting off his air. Remaining punches weakened, and Lucas' face started to go red... Slowly, Boda was rising. To his knees, to his feet... Lifting Lucas off HIS feet.

Feeble kicks to Boda's stomach couldn't loosen the vice like grip... Only Boda could, and he did so as Lucas was thrown down onto the tatty canvas with a choke toss.

Beginning of the end?

Almost bouncing back up, Lucas instinctive sprung to his feet, having learned the Asylum mat is no place to be.... But he sprung up right into a double axe-handle from Boda. With Nick buckling in front of him, Sloboda grabbed him and whipped him into the Asylum cage.

Not quite the same as wrestling ropes, Lucas's spine impacted and sent him staggering back towards the OSW Champion who rolled out the welcome mat with a kick to the ribs.

All the Red Army knew what was coming.

OSW followers knew what was coming.

And, sadly, the tA fans realised what was coming.

Like a rag-doll, Lucas was hoisted into the air by the giant Czech for a powerbomb, then hitched up that little bit higher, then......

*THUD!*

Boda Bomb.

Lucas was left sprawled out on his back, not moving a muscle as a jubilant Speedy Riggs began his count.

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

9...

...10~!

Chalk another one up for the Red Army.

Soda cups, beer cans, and a bottle of piss made their way into the Asylum cage as the angered and frustrated crowd displayed their grievances. Not having broken a sweat, Boda departed the Cage to be handed back his OSW belt, which he held up to the baying mob of a crowd just to rub it in.

It looked more and more like everything would be resting on Token Weed's shoulders...

...But for now, Lucas' shoulders remained flat against the mat, defeated.

She hadn’t seen the attack coming and certainly wasn’t prepared for the ferocity of it. Karen Pembridge had caught her from behind and hadn’t stopped her assault yet. Mercy’s retaliation was weak at best, and her defense was slowly crumbling. If Karen continued her attacks, Mercy was guaranteed a trip to the hospital. If she was lucky, it would only be the hospital.

A kick to the sternum. A knee to the ribs. By now there had to be some internal bleeding, and Mercy just hoped that Karen would get bored before puncturing a lung or some other vital organ. Karen wasn’t about to let up. Her eyes were cold and calculating, picking Mercy apart while she had the advantage. She could tell the redhead was starting to fade. Once her arms dropped and she could no longer protect herself, the fun would really begin. That thought brought a smile to Karen’s face.

“Had… enough… bitch…?” Mercy wheezed as a strand of bloody saliva hung from the corner of her mouth. Her arms trembled with the effort, and were slowly lowering. She collapsed against the wall with barely enough energy to remain on her feet. Karen saw Mercy’s head exposed for the first time. There was nothing to protect her, nothing to save her, nothing to stop Karen from punting that head of red hair down the hallway.

Nothing… except the Nasty One.

Karen didn’t see the punch coming. Nick put all four hundred pounds behind his thunderous punch, and it did the job. Catching Karen in the side of the head, Nick dropped her to the floor. Without missing a step, Nick rushed over to Mercy. She was still trying to hold her arms up, out of instinct rather than necessity. Nick placed a hand on her forearms and lowered them.

“Are you okay?” Mercy stared at him through her mask. “I’ve had better days.” She managed a weak smile, showing her bloodstained teeth. “What took you so long?”

“I was reading some porn. You know, important stuff.”

Nick helped Mercy to her feet. She winced as he touched her side. “Anything broken?” he asked. “Not sure,” Mercy said as she slowly sucked in a breath.

“You’ll have to check me out later.” Nick licked his lips. “You know how much I like playing Doctor,” he said with a devilish grin.

“You’ll need a doctor yourself!” Karen screamed as she kicked Nick in the back of the knee. Still recovering from Nick’s punch, Karen still had enough force behind her kicks to keep the big man off balance. Mercy fell to the floor and Brandish staggered into the wall. A quick legsweep from Pembridge, and Nasty Nick hit the floor with a loud thud. Lucinda grabbed Karen by the arm.

“Let’s go!” she said as she pulled Pembridge away from the conflict. “Let’s get out of here!” Nick propped himself up and watched the two women run down the hallway. He shook his head.

“You can run...” he said as he stood up, “...but you can’t hide.”

Eddie Cheno Vs William S. Powell
(Best Of Five)

“The Soviet National Anthem” came over the pa system, as it did for any of the other matches, but this time, it was actually the official theme song of one William S. Powell. Powell walked down to the ring in a cocky stride, which seemed a bit awkward. Being that Powell seemed to be shouting to the Asylum faithful “look at me!,” even though that would go against everything the Red Army stood for. Whatever the case, he was drowned in boos, but any attention seemed to be enough for Powell, as he climbed into the Asylum cage for the first time.

“Funken Newbies” Cheno said, cutting off the Soviet National anthem to cheers as he stepped out from the backstage area, his long thin glass bong in his other hand. “I gotsa say yo, ya ain’t gunna be likin’ da next five minutes.” Cheno continued to talk, drowning out the anthem and disrupting the plans of the Army. “So mang, I best be tellin’ ya, best be warnin’ ya, makin’ sure ya got yer will and yer funken papers mang,” Cheno reached into his pocket, and pulled some rolling papers out. “Cuz I be sure havin’ mine!”

Huge cheers, as Cheno climbed over the cage, and Powell immediately attacked, grabbing Cheno around the waist and driving him into the cage wall. Cheno dropped his bong on the ring canvas, but it didn’t shatter, as he began to drive his own forearms into Powell’s back. William cried out in pain, but he wasn’t going to let Cheno’s blows distract him from taking Cheno down to the mat.

Which is preciously what Powell did.

Cheno tried for a right but Powell was too fast, spinning his body and locking Cheno in an inverted headlock dragon sleeper type move. Cheno spun his body around, but this just cause Powell to lock in a simple side headlock. Cheno stood up to his feet, now being able to due to his body position. Powell tried to block it, but Cheno rammed his his back and his own face into the cage wall. Powell cried out in pain, breaking the hold, as Cheno backed off, his own forehead cut once more from the prior wound earlier in the match.

Powell saw the blood dripping down Cheno’s forehead, and if this was a cartoon, a lightbulb would have flashed above his head.

Instead, he got a vicious right cross to the jaw that sent him down to the canvas in a heap. If you give Cheno the opening for a punch, he’s going to take it.

Rookie mistake.

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

6…

Powell slowly recovered to his feet, and wiped the blood away from his lip. He obviously wasn’t used to being punched in the face.

Anywhere else but the Asylum, that would be a good thing.

Cheno hopped back and forth, getting the fans into it and raising his adrenaline. He also did this so that Powell didn’t have such an easy time to grab his legs or body for a takedown. That was pretty much Powell’s offense in a situation like the one he’s in.

Seems like those eight months in the IWO paid off for him.

Then again, ask him about those months, and he wouldn’t be able to remember them.

Powell went for a single leg, but Cheno backed off and tried to slam his fist into the back of Powell’s neck. Powell rolled out of the way, recovered to his feet, and wound up kicking Cheno’s forehead like a soccer ball.

And with no goalie to block it, of course it’s a goal.

Cheno fell hard, the wound from his forehead bleeding much more profusely now, and Powell felt victory soon. Soon enough that he raised his hand to a chorus of boos, before pointing toward the Asylum’s fallen hero. Powell lifted Cheno up off the mat, and delivered a vicious ddt into the mat. But he held on, putting his legs around Cheno’s waist and locking him in tight, forcing pressure on both Cheno’s head and neck, but his ribs and stomach area as well.

The official was right there to see Eddie tap. To see Eddie give up the Asylum to the Communists. To make his father, wherever he is, very disappointed in him if he was patriotic. Then again, maybe his father was from Canada. Who knows.

Powell continued lunging his head and neck back to add more pressure to the parts of Cheno’s anatomy. The blood from Cheno’s forehead dripped onto Powell’s midsection, but he didn’t care. He had a job to do. A job that must be done. For the good of the world. For the safety of the children of the next generation. For puppies and trees or whatever.

Who cares about the rest of the world. He’s doing this for Ivan. Impress the leader of the army…

And the world is yours.

Then you can care about it.

With every passing moment, Powell knew that he was getting closer to forcing Cheno to pass out, but Cheno was a fighter, and he wasn’t going to give up without one. Cheno tried to break the hold, pounding right hand after right hand into Powell’s gut, but Powell held the move in strong. Powell however, was getting a bit miffed at the situation, and eventually, when Cheno’s blows had more space between them but more power behind them, he let go of the hold.

Cheno was worn down, laying on the Asylum canvas as Powell looked at a job well done. The blood from his forehead slowly dripped onto the mat, as Powell looked down, and began to climb up to the top of the Asylum Cage.

Never a good idea, but Powell knew that his opponent was not getting up. He took his time, making sure not to slip.

He was going for Better Red than Dead. He was going to put Cheno away.

But Cheno had other plans. Slowly recovering to his feet, he saw Powell on top of the cage, and desperately ran toward the cage wall, throwing himself at it. The momentum shifted the cage, sending it out toward the fans and then back toward the ring, but Powell didn’t stay, and instead flew off the top of the Asylum’s cage and into the barricade separating the fans from the action.

Cheno fell to his feet, right next to his bong, and took a hit in celebration. Powell recovered to his feet, angered that he couldn’t get the job done, but the series was only tied.

And Cheno blew his smoke into Powell’s face, to put the final period on their encounter.

As a groggy Lucas staggered towards the showers, the voice of Joe Campbell was less than congratulatory.

"Fuck you," was Lucas' eloquent reply.

As he walked away from Joe, the Asylum's ruler followed, hounding him.

"Was it THAT hard not to look like a total bitch out there? Really? Was it?"

Growling, the defeated Lucas turned to face his tormentor, who quickly ushered for the fighter to turn back around.

"I don't even want to look at your face," Joe remarked, disgusted, "In fact, I don't ever want to look at you again."

"Well, that's too bad," Lucas snorted, "We made the deal, my safety, my immunity, my service... For your 'Payment'."

Never one to be tied down by past deals, Joe danced around the agreement's finer details.

"I also told a 1000 slags I loved then just to get laid... Truths aren't my game."

Again, Lucas stopped, but didn't turn back this time.

"And your suggestion is?" he asked of his ruler, without looking him in the face.

"Next week, at Everything or Nothing... We'll make it live up to it's name," Joe explained, "You against Braydon - You win, you never have to see me again. You get your immunity, you get your protection from the law... But you don't get me."

"And if I lose?" Lucas was fast to inquire.

"You're on your own, fending for yourself.... Out from under the umbrella."

Tempting, indeed.

"So, shit-for-brains... What do you say?"

Lucas didn't even need time to think. One match, one win, and his nightmare would be over.

"Deal."

Nick Brandish however, would determine their destruction.

Karen reached the small rental car and began to pound on the door. Of all the times she choose to actually lock it.

Karen decided she couldn’t want for Lucy one second longer, and kicked the window in, shattering it to pieces. She unlocked the door, the glass cutting her arm a small bit before she entered the vehicle. Lucy had just made it to the driver’s side door, and Karen had reached over and unlocked it. She sat down, pulling out the keys and fumbling with them in a way most people do in a dramatic and nervous situation such as this.

She dropped the keys on the floor of the car, as Karen told her to drive on repeat.
That is, until Nick caught up with the two girls. With all his strength, he picked up the driver’s side… and flipped the car completely over onto it’s hood.

Nick stood there, satisfied. He dusted his hands off as Karen and Lucy flipped over in the car, landing hard on the back of their necks. Nick began to slowly walk up, to return to Mercy’s side, but he yelled out one final phrase to the fallen duo.

“Wear something nice to Everything or Nothing, Karen. Wouldn’t want to bury you in something ugly!”

And with that, Karen slammed her fist into the passenger’s side door, sending more glass down on top of her own body. But that was the least of her worries.

Her right leg... had *just* been injured.

And we roll towards EoN...

Token Weed Vs Ivan Stanislav
(Best Of Five: Final)

Somewhere in the arena, Joe Campbell was sweating like a paedophile on a school bus.

The immediate future of his promotion was once again in the hands of an individual who wouldn't sit beside him at the throne, Token Weed was his own man and Campbell was never really a fan of free will. Tonight once again was out of his control and only Token Weed could determine whether the Red Army would stay or go.

It was Ivan Stanislav who stepped out onto the aisle to a vast chorus of boos from the attenting crowd, the booing was equalled only by the sound of silent awe as the 7'1" and 400lb monster had to bow his head to get through the entranceway.

Stanislav marched down the aisleway a lone warrior, confident that he wouldn't need the rest of his Army and a respector of the rules with regards to a fair fight. Even his usual manager and accomplice Alexei Rusian wsas absent, a further signification of Stanislav's confidence.

The giant Russian Bear clambered into the Asylum and awaited his opponent with “The Soviet National Anthem” by The Russian Red Army Choir still playing over the speaker system, his opponent did not disappoint.

Token Weed burst through the curtain to a huge amount of cheers exploding inside Fenway Park, the man who held the fate of his promotion firmly in a tight grasp once again made his way down the aisle and up the steps as a "Kick his ass! Kick his ass!" chant broke out amongst the crowd.

Clambering into the Asylum, Token made his way immediately over to Stanislav to stare him in the eye, no simple task when Stanislav towered two inches short of a foot above him. The two engaged in a cold stare as Speedy Riggs motioned for a handshake that almost had the crowd laughing at the notion.

Seconds later he was calling for the bell as Token began to drive his fists furiously into Stanislav's ribs, Big Red however simple tensed up and took the shots before unleashing a trademark "DYAAHAAHAA!"

A firm grip around Token's throat followed the insane laughter as Ivan lifted Weed in ragdoll like fashion into the air before dropping him and blasting him with a stiff clothesline before his feet could even touch the ground.

The crowd sat silently as Token flew across the Asylum and lay in a crumpled heap against the mesh, The Iron Curtain had fallen early in the fight and it would take only two or three shots of that magnitude to knock Token out for the count.

Shaken by the hefty blow Token staggered up to his feet and shook himself out of a dazed state, the crosshairs were back on Stanislav but Token would have to work out a different area to target if he was to have any chance of defeating The Industrial Giant.

Williams rushed at Ivan who simply raised a huge boot into his face, fortunately for the fighter this had been something he'd anticipated and he was able to duck under the boot and send a shattering kick into the inner thigh of Ivan's standing leg.

Stanislav clutched his leg and hobbled slightly as Token sent a second then third kick to the insode of Ivan's leg. A quick counter shove to the throat had Token rolling backwards across the canvas as Stanislav tried to shake out the shots to his leg.

Quick to act upon his advantage Token was back on Ivan like a rash, sending several more stiff kicks into the already worked on leg, this time hitting the outside of the thigh and bringing about a grimace upon the Russian's face.

A final wicked kick from Token did what seemed to be the impossible, took the Russian Bear down to one knee and put the blood in the water that Token needed to go for the kill, he reared back and flew at Ivan with a Pump Kick.

But Stanislav adjusted and caught Token before once again stunning the crowd into silence, getting to his feet with Williams lifted into a powerbomb position then driving him down spine first against the Asylum rim with a sick crack.

Ivan hobbled away for a moment, the lift putting further strain on his knee as Token almost slumped to the outside before somehow shifting his weight and dropping himself back into the Asylum in a broken heap.

Sean Williams was in trouble and the crowd knew it, he'd taken a lot of shots in his long Asylum career and most of them he'd gotten right back up from, but this time he was down and writhing in agony as Stanislav again shook out the stiffness in his leg and prepared to attack again.

More stunned silence came from the crowd as Stanislav dragged Token up by the hair and put him in position for the deadly Red Scare. Hoisting up Weed, Ivan prepared to suplex him clean out of the Asylum just as he'd suplexed him through the announce table one week ago... somehow however Williams was able to kick and struggle, catching Ivan in the face with a knee that saw him drop Token to the canvas.

Ivan lashed out with a kick but to the crowd's sheer elation Token caught it... dropkicking his already damaged standing leg out from beneath him! People in the arena were on their feet as for the first time Ivan Stanislav lay down on the canvas holding his leg.

Token struggled up to his feet as Ivan slowly made his was up a little way across the canvas, acting fast the Asylum fighter took the law into his own hands and reached over the rim, pulling in a steel chair.

The real law of the match quickly came back into place, Speedy Riggs of OSE quickly embarking in a struggle with Token over who should have posession of the chair. A tussle that was quickly broken up as Ivan Stanislav stormed over...

...knocking Speedy Riggs to the canvas as Token side stepped!

Token acted quickly, grabbing the now canvased steel chair and drilling Ivan across the leg with it, the Russian Bear roared out as Token drew back and blasted him again in the leg, finishing things off with a third blow that caught Ivan right across the shoulder blades.

The crowd watched on again stunned into silent awe, as Ivan did not go down but instead snarled and turned furiously to Token... rushing at him again only to have the chair thrown at him.

As Ivan turned back he caught a Pump Kick square in the chair, which in turn cannoned into his chest and knocked him over the Asylum rim to the arena floor with a thud.

The crowd roared insanely as Token fell backwards on the canvas, Ivan had shockingly landed on his feet however and started to climb back into the Asylum until two confirmations of his defeat hit him.

He wasn't even aware of the ringout rule as Speedy Riggs reluctantly called for the bell and a sound that hadn't been heard in almost two weeks echoed through the arena.

"Halo" by Soil, different music.

As Riggs persuaded Ivan not to take back to the Asylum, a jubilant Campbell rushed down to the structure and leapt in... leaping around jovially as though he'd won the fight all by himself.

"Up your arse you Russian cuntski!" Joe roared with his fists thrown in the air "Now get the fuck out of my arena, I don't want to see you around here again."

Ivan, still under the attempted restraints of Speedy Riggs backed slowly up the aisle as Joe continued to jibe.

"Weeeeeeeeeeee are the champions, my friends! And weeeeeeeeee'll keep on fighting, till the end!"

Campbell turned to face the other half of the arena, clearing his throat and starting with the next couple of lines "Weeeeeeee are the champions, weeeeeeeeee are the chaaaaaaaaaaaampio-"

CRACK.

A steel chair shot from Token Weed quickly silenced the Asylum owner and knocked him unconscious to the canvas, as Token staggered out of the Asylum and into a crowd of fans who rallied around him Team Campbell and the Flatlined members all rushed down to the Asylum to come to Campbell's aid.

Just as one war came to an end...

...it seemed another was beginning.