The answers, as always... were never far away.

A massive pop erupted throughout the arena as a lone spotlight shined down on the figure of Joe Campbell who stood in the center of the Asylum, a microphone in his hand and a smirk on his face.

Cameras flashed all around him, this would truly be a moment to be remembered by all, Campbell had lead his troops to victory, and this was to be... the victory speech.

"Sometimes, words just aren't enough... that was the statement made on our company website just hours after transcripts of our momentous victory were posted, but I'd like to test that theory... in fact.

I'd like to disagree with it.

BOO FUCKING YAH 21WRESTLING, WE WON, YOU LOST." Joe roared in a jovial voice, the crowd cheering on his every word.

"You know, I really don't know where to begin... I could start with the 'I told you so's' or the 'You were warned's' but to be perfectly honest... it wouldn't be anything that Mr. Knight and the rest of his compadre's haven't already heard a billion times since last Sunday.

I'm not going to go over every painstaking moment, we aren't going to relive the brutal, slow, painful, bloody, agonizing death of 21wrestling... instead.

We are going to resuscitate the already mangled, maggot infested, soul void corpse... so that we may torture it some more.

For you see, 21wrestling is not dead... until Joe Campbell says that it is.

Something that has forever failed to hot home with rival promoters across this nation and indeed, across this globe... is the fact that when I say something, it happens... when I click my fingers, things occur... granted, they aren't always good things... but none the less, what I say has a very good chance of coming to frutition.

So without further ado, let the slow death of the 21wrestling commence." Joe Campbell chuckled, before slowly bending down to the canvas and picking up a duffel bag, it's contents clearly somewhat heavy... slowly but surely to the crowds delight, he started to unzip the bag, but suddenly... laughed to himself and zipped it shut.

"Now what on earth am I thinking?" Joe continued with a sinister smile "How selfish of me to begin this ceremony without two individuals who made it possible... two men, whom I truly consider friends...

Ladies and gentlemen, Tyler Burton and Sean Williams.

the Inmate and Token Weed.

The crowd exploded with wild cheers as "I Disappear" by Metallica hit the arena and the Asylum champion, Tyler Burton... paced slowly out from behind the curtain... for the first time in a long time, Burton looked like a million dollars, sporting a black silk shirt and a pair of black slacks, Burton walked down the aisle with a confident smirk across his face, the Asylum championship glimmering across his shoulder... and oddly enough, a cardboard box in his hands.

As Burton walked up the steps, he placed the box down on the canvas and embraced Joe Campbell like a brother, the two patted each other on the back as "I Disappear" by Metallica died down... only to be replaced by the sound of "Halo" by Soil.

Token Weed.

He too marched from behind the curtain, with a disturbingly confident look on his face... sporting a somewhat new looking black leather jacket and a pair of casual jean shorts, Token marched down the aisle with a cockily propped Iliad trophy up against his shoulder... there was something sinister about the entire presence of all three men in the same vacinity, and as Token clambered into the Asylum and smirked at both Inmate and Campbell, things became all too evident.

"Now that my main men are here... let the proceedings continue..." Joe went on, finally unzipping the duffel back and pulling something from the bag which sent a gasp of adrenaline, shock and excitement through the crowd.

A dildo.

No, not really idiot.

The 21wrestling Millennium Title.

Joe held the precious title belt up in the air as cameras flashed all around, how Campbell had procured such a 21w landmark was all too evident, the fickle plan with Kellen Kinkade obviously bearing more fruits than originally estimated.

"Look at this piece of shit!" Joe roared with delight as Token and Inmate laughed to themselves.

"This piece of tinny shite, is supposed to represent the future of 21wrestling... supposedly 'great men' have held this title in the past, men that have ultimately gone on to be legends.

Meheheh, and in Glen Miller's case... legends... whom have gone on to die.

But jokes aside, this title belt is supposed to be the embodiment of the 21w future, but sadly as we all know... that bright, shiny, happy future was reduced to a steaming pile of dung by me and the boys last week, so unfortunate as it is... I must announce, that this title belt is now null and void." Joe chortled, waving the title belt around arrogantly.

"That is of course... unless there are any 21w jobseekers backstage... who want to come out and stop me?" Joe questioned, tilting his head to the curtain... which remained still.

"I didn't think so... but yes, unfortunately... the Milennium title has come of age, and it's time for this baby to go out to pasture... and being the good natured soul that I am, I'm going to treat the gold to the retirement which it deserves.

A trip, to somewhere exotic.

Like Brazil." Joe sneered, the crowd exploded with cheers at the statement but Joe's face was deadly serious... Inmate and Token continued laughing between themselves as Joe lifted the belt high in the air and gazed at it.

"So take one last look at a piece of 21wrestling history... who knows where it will end up next? Around the belt of some Brazilian hooker perhaps? Or maybe as the golden studs on a pair of the great Ronaldo's boots?

Fuck it... who knows, who cares? I certainly don't." Joe said with a sick grin, before inverting his grip on the belt and slamming it disdainfully down into the cardboard box, Inmate closed the box shut and using a roll of tape, sealed it up... unfortunately for 21wrestling, the postage details of the box were already in place.

"And with that piece of wank finally out of the way... it's my pleasure to officially declare 21wrestling.

DEAD.

There... I feel so much better having said that, now... onto more pressing matters at hand... I feel it's time to be a bit of gloating, what better way to start than to reveal my grand scheme?

You see folks... Immortals was only the tip of a tall and fickle iceberg, the seeds to destroy 21wrestling were planted long ago, you see... when Borst invaded them for the first time and we stole the 21w title... Mad Max Marx went on to make my life a living hell, he beat my fighters, he tricked me countless times... and when he finally faught with Archangel for the gold, he forced me into making an error that I will forever remember each and every time I look into the mirror." Joe sneered, pointing up to his scarred cheek where Archangel had carved his initials as a revenge act.

"Archie and I have since put aside our differences, but the fact remains... 21wrestling was to blame, so I set out... I set out and I made a plan, but without the right cast and crew, the plan would never have been impossible.

You see the greatest way to defeat your enemy, is to know your enemy.

So I needed to get inside, get into the core and see how things tick... but come on, I'm Joe fucking Campbell, I can't just walk in there with a fake beard and ask to see how things work, not happening... I needed a trojan horse, someone that not only had the look and the ability to do the job, but someone that couldn't be traced back to me... he needed to be completely neutral, as far as 21wrestling were concerned... they were hiring a new man.

And that's when I met Kellen Kinkade.

I'll never know why he offered to do it, many of us probably never will... but rest assured, at some point in time, at some stage during this miserable life that we all go through, wrestling fucked with Kellen Kinkade, and he couldn't wait to bend it over and fuck it back.

So I had my plan, I had my trojan in place... all I needed to do was light the fire and let it burn, that was simple enough... a stray comment here, a blatant insult there, before you know it, Knight has accepted my challenge and is prepared to lay it all on the line.

How unfortunate.

Knight had no greater plan, I suppose that's a testament to what a one dimensional wanker he is... he never once thought any deeper, or any further outside the box than the fact that I wanted to start a fight with him, please Knight? Don't insult my intelligence just because that of your own isn't up to scratch, this isn't fucking playschool... we aren't fighting over fucking pokemon here."

Joe stopped for a moment as a vision of Mega Job flashed through his brain.

"Well, most of us aren't... but that's beside the point Knight, you underestimated me... and that's what made the next stage of the plan that little bit easier.

Propaganda Knight, evidently... you have no common grasp of the concept of War... propaganda Knight... don't believe everything that you see and hear, don't take anything at face value... but we all know what a fucking idiot you are Knight, even you know... that's why right now... you're probably hiding away in some dive, crying yourself to sleep.

You bought it Knight, because you couldn't see past the simple fact... that the Asylum is a family, a family Knight... granted... we're like all other families, we have our falls outs, our domestic rows... sometimes some of us leave and sometimes some of us have to be cast away, but the fact remains Knight.

We are family Knight, flesh and blood.

So I make these fuckers fight, so I put them in harms way... so I unleash them upon each other, to beat, to bloody... to murder, but the fact remains Knight, I pay their wages... I keep food on their tables, I keep them alive and as result.

I own them, they owe me their lives.

Some of them don't agree with it... and some of them I don't hold to it... take Sean and Tyler here, these two men are now what I like to call, debtless... they owe me nothing but a bit of common courtesy, you see... these men have proved their worth, they've repaid the debt of their lives.

By helping me fuck up yours.

How foolish Knight, how foolish of you to see our inner turmoil and take it as face value... what a disaster it was that Inmate's mental problem's were consuming him, what a disaster it was that my two strongest fighters were beating each other to a bloody pulp just one month before Immortals.

What a disaster it was, that you bought the act.

Tyler Burton and Sean Williams hate each other, sure... but no more than I hate them and certainly no more than they hate me, while none of us really like each other, we learn to cope... we learn to coexist and even in this case, cooperate.

Yeah, Tyler and Sean beat the fuck out of each other... but no, Token Weed was never gone from the Asylum, Tyler Burton was never mentally ill.

You only see, what I want you to see.

But it didn't stop there Knight, what of Kellen Kinkade, what of the... heh... 'Hero'?" Joe chuckled to himself.

"That's right... wasn't it odd that while so many of your wrestlers tried and failed to breach my shows... Kinkade simply strolled through the doors, how convenient that while all of your other attacks rendered little effect, Kellen Kinkade's brough an entire Show to standstill.

Face it Knight, were done like a turkey at Christmas." Joe said, as he, the Inmate and Token continued to laugh amongst themselves.

"So I tricked you Knight, we all did... and now you're done, finished... caput, 21wrestling as it was is not 21wrestling as it is today, it's a shell of it's former self... and while you can try and rebuild it all you want.

I will still be there, to break it all down again when the time is right.

We won Knight, we took the Iliad, we took the Immortal title... and we took two of your biggest stars, who later tonight... will meet me in this very structure... to recieve their rewards... and sign their contracts." Joe sniggered.

"But I did have one major announcement to make... one more important than all of the others, and that is... that for the first time ever in Asylum history, Joe Campbell is pleased, I'm content with my fighters, I'm content with our victory... I am content... that the job is done.

And you know what they say, all work and no play... makes Jack, and Joe... dull boys.

So tonight will be a first in the history of the Show, for tonight... there is to be no bloodshed, tonight... there is to be no suffering or anguish... for tonight.

There will be no fighting." Joe roared... this however was not greeter with as much optimism as his previous statements... various chants of "Bullshit! Bullshit!" breaking out in the arena.

"Ah yes, how could I forget... America, the one pimple on the arse of my glorious triumph last week, I was on a tremendous high until I realized that I was going to have to come back here, but it's all good, tonight the land of the free will be used by the Asylum and heralded by it's more well known name, the land of the fucked up.

Because lets face it... nowhere else could you buy a hooker for every fighter on the roster.

And nowhere else could you openly purchase enough drugs, to power a shuttle all the way to Planet Janet.

So here's to victory, we earned it... and now, as will all victories... the time to celebrate has come.

The time to get fucked up and laid, is now." Joe roared, as Inmate and Token clapped sarcastically beside him.

"Tonight is open night, fighters can say and do what they want... as long as there is no fighting." Joe chuckled to himself as he and his partners in crime started up the aisle.

The crowd were now booing more insanely than ever before... a united gesture of peace and joy, this was not the Asylum... this was not... this not what they had pa...

But before they could finish the thought, Joe chimed in one last time.

"Just remember wankers...

... you paid for this."

Gabriel stepped out from the driver’s side of the car. “Dawn, tonight’s your night. You go right in there and demand your title shot. You earned it fair and square.”

Fair and square… not hardly. That much was obvious.

The doors that the fighter’s used to enter the arena occasionally had a few Asylum groupies hanging around them, their appearance as bizarre as some of the members of the Asylum.

Tonight was no exception. A young woman, fully equipped with numerous facial piercings, noticed Van Dammage approaching. Dawn smiled; she was proud of her position as a role model for women around the -

“Hey look!” they young woman shouted as she pointed at Big Red. “It’s that cheating bitch!”
Dawn looked around, apparently unsure whom the woman was talking about. Gabriel rested a hand on her shoulder. “Ignore them Dawn.”

Easier said than done, as Dawn quickly found out. Quickly walking by the young woman, Dawn was startled by a shower of foamy spray. Beer, courtesy of the shaken can the young women held in her hands. Several others cheered her on as Dawn wrung the beer out of her hair. “Hey, don’t blame me that Gwen decided to drink herself into a coma. Maybe the two of you could join the same twelve-step program when she wakes up. If she wakes up.”

The young woman was undaunted. “For someone who’s supposed to be such a great fighter, Gwen sure had your number. No wonder you had to get one of your goons take her out.”

Gabriel ushered Dawn forward. “Ignore the street filth,” he said to Dawn, just loud enough for the young woman to overhear. “They’ll be kissing your feet once you win the Women’s Title.”

“I don’t know if I’d want that one kissing anything on me,” Dawn said curtly, nodding at the young woman as they continued on. “There’s no telling what kind of disease I could catch.”

The duo just managed to close the arena door behind them as an empty beer can bounced off it.

Backstage. It served as a refuge for Asylum stars from the harsh world of reality. Here they were the kings, all were respected, many were even liked. Everyone except for one man.

Lonnie Clark.

Lonnie was like a walking lawsuit. He was too brash to realize how ridiculous his actions really were. For some reason he felt he was a god because he was an intern and the LoD were now his --as he termed it-- "bitches".

What an idiot.

Today his agenda was not his own. His "bitches" --as he so liked to call them and I'll make a note of everytime I say it-- had a special mission for him. Given the recent departure of Mega Job from the Asylum roster to the World Without Shrimp. The Legion of Dairy were hellbent on paying their respects to the former Asylum stars. For it was Mega Job that the Legion of Dairy first worked with upon their arrival to the Asylum. This was going to be their way of saying "thanks". Lonnie would help. Whether he liked it or not.

With all that said, we caught up to Lonnie backstage. Already talk to his first "Mega Job testimonial" of the day.

Gwen O'Reilly.

Her head wrapped in bandages and a frown on her face, Lonnie continued to talk. He leaned against the wall the two were standing beside and folded his arms across his chest. The camera closed in and we listened in.

"Suh-suh-sss-so I was ttt-thu-thinkin'... if yyy-yyy-you weren't duh-duh-doing any-aaa-anything later. Muh-Muh-maybe we ccc-could...." Lonnie said in a mellow tone, followed with a wink.

A confused Gwen had to ask. "Wha'?"

Lonnie winked a second time. "Yyyy-you know." He replied, rocking his hips front and back and grinning.

"Yyyy-you are eee-eee-eighteen, rrr-rrr-rrr-right? I duh-duh-duh-don't want to go to juh-juh-jail today."

Rage.

Gwen grabbed Lonnie in a headlock and rammed his head into the wall. Lonnie fell to the ground holding his head and moaning in pain. Gwen kicked Clark in the ribs for added measure and walked off down the hall.

But what about the tribute?!

Gwen stepped out from the back and stood at the top of the ramp. Her head was wrapped in a bandage, and she hobbled to the ring rather than walked. Still, it was a good sight to see her. She got into the Asylum and produced a microphone from her jacket’s pocket.

She played the crowd for a minute or two before her music died down. Then, she took a swig of the whiskey that was in her hand and spoke into the microphone.

“G’day to all of ye!”

The crowd roared. Gwen smiled.

“I apologize for my absence, but...I was in a feckin’ coma! And why lads and lasses?

Because a wee bit of weeks ago, some bastid’ jumped me from behind.”

The crowd booed.

“I’m not here t’night t’waste yer time. I just got to clear up some things. Ye fans seem t’think it was Dawn Van Dammage that did this t’me.”

Gwen pointed to her head, and the crowd booed at the mention of DVD.

“Well, let me tell ye all something. It wasn’t her! She may have kicked me ass a few times, and I may have kicked hers’...but I know she isn’t the kind of lass to jump someone from behind. Besides that, while I didn’t get a glimpse of the attacker’s face...I caught a wee glimpse of their chest. I wasn’t attacked by a woman...I saw no tits...I only saw a hairy man chest in front of me eyes!”

The crowd talked amongst one another, wondering what man in tA would want to attack Gwen...and why?

“I don’t know who it was. But like I said, I’m not out here to waste yer time...I’m only out here to let ye all know that when I find out who it was...ye all will find out who it was as well!”

The crowd cheered, and with that, Gwen dropped the microphone. Her music came on and she left the ring. She slapped some fans’ hands on the way to the back before disappearing from the crowd’s view.

She was on a mission.

.desolate made his way down the hall, he looked to be deep in thought as he rounded one of many corners leading to the arena. He was a man on a mission, while the mission might have been laid out at a later day and time, here in the now .desolate would have other things to worry about. Things...

Like Lonnie Clark.

".ddd-.duh-.ddd-.desolate!"

.desolate stopped as he looked back over his shoulder. Lonnie was racing toward, the black arm ban still fixed on his jacket as he stopped just short of .desolate. Clark paused as he caught his breath, .desolate looked over Lonnie as he regained his composure and held a microphone up to .desolate.

He didn't say anything. Probably because Lonnie didn't ask him anything for him to comment on. Lonnie shrugged as he pulled the microphone back. Holding it up to his own mouth.

".ddd-.duh-.duh-.desolate, how do yyy-yyy-you feel about the rrrr-ruh-ruh-recent parting of Muh-muh-muh-Mega Job and the Asylum? And ddd-ddd-ddd-don't hold back the fuh-fuh-feelings buh-buh-buh-big guy. We'll uuuu-uuu-understand if you buh-buh-buh-break ccc-cccc-character." Lonnie said as he reached behind his back slowly pulling something out.

.desolate ran his hand over his goatee as he just stared at Clark.

Clark continued, "it's ooo-ooo-ok, I can understand hhh-huh-huh-how hard it must be fff-fuh-for you. It's ruh-ruh-rough on all of us. Luh-lll-let it all cuh-cuh-ccc-come to the sss-sss-surface."

Clark pulled a squirt bottle out from behind his and sprayed .desolate in the face several times with the water. .desolate immediately ran his hands over his face and inspected the liquid on his hands.

"Nuh-nnn-no! Luh-luh-let it all ccc-ccc-come out! Duh-duh-don't hold back the ttt-ttt-tears!"
.desolate continued to look at the water on his hands. His expression blank.

*CRACK*

In the blink of an eye, .desolate struck. Lonnie didn't see it coming and neither did the fans.

Well, they didn't catch the punch that .desolate threw that now had Clark out cold on the floor below.

.desolate made his way down the hall, he looked to be deep in thought as he rounded one of many corners leading to the arena. He was a man on a mission. Some ten feet behind him lay the unconscious body of Lonnie Clark. A victim of his own stupidity.

Everything was so chaotic, but the arena was peaceful by contrast. The two men stood in the front row in silence, taking notes, citing the crowds, the capacity, and the sheer scale of the operation.

Nobody paid attention to them. They worked in relative silence, unbeknownst to the world. No one needed to know what they were doing, so no one did. Passing by countless faces in the hallway, only one of them made his head turn. He was silent as he did so, and he looked at her. The streak in her hair sharply contrasted the disdain on her face. She continued to walk in the opposite direction, her black skirt swaying with her movements.

The other man grabbed him and urged him forward. There was only one direction, and one clear way to escape. Madness was so close, and the end was imminent. It grew nearer and nearer as they made their way to their seats. The grizzled sailor next to them yelled obscenities as the young girl at his side looked scared. On the other side a young man looked as though he walked straight from the office. Diversity within the crowd only helped to spread the chaos.

Beer spilling into the air, the young woman was instantly drenched. Her white shirt, now see through, and her sheer black bra now revealed to the world. As a man behind her went to interfere, she broke through the judgment she had incurred. She immediately clubbed the bearded man, a fight breaking out in the stands. The violence had spread, and their goal became clearer and clearer as the madness continued.

Guards swarmed the area, ushers settling people down. The crowd took their seats, not wishing to miss the event, many stripped of their beverages which now spilled down the floor under the seats before pooling near the aisles. Shirts bore the faces of the fighters, the warriors or demons depending on who you were. To some those faces represented heroism and bravery; to others they represented all that was wrong in the world. To the two men, it didn’t matter which was true. All that mattered was that it needed to end.

Night was quickly upon them, and the perspiration from the crowd was easily detected by the scents that emanated from them. The two men were still silent, their clothing inconspicuous.

Their eyes hidden by sunglasses; their souls shadowed in clothing. Their minds aflutter with the scene, it was almost overwhelming to the senses. Like a lost child in a mall, cries would go unheard. It didn’t matter if they were scared, they just needed a solution. They felt helpless again, but functioned as a unit and were forced into a sense of security.

It was the only way to keep safe. As the music began to play in the arena they knew it had begun. It didn’t matter now what had happened before. The beer, the bra, the odor, all of it was now irrelevant. The Show had begun, and it would again spark the flame for the pain.

Disturb the peace, and interrupt the slumber.

It had to end… but they had arrived. It was the time to do the job, and to be declared the winners of the war. They had a world to save, and lives to maintain. With one last note a man appeared, the devil, the one who was at the heart of the hate. They had come just in time. On the scene where they were needed.

Arriving to save the fans, they had come to protect the world and their own minds. But one question remained. Who would save the combatants? Who would save the demons, and the devil? Who would save the fallen and the forgotten angels? Who would save theAsylum?

Save them all from these two men.

Save them from the DreaM.

Given the fact that said moron forgot to take off his blue superhero's suit, you could probably easily guess that this was Beef. Beside him was Steve, wearing a business suit and noticeably also wearing stilts. Janito wasn't anywhere to be seen, maybe he was in the World Without Shrimp.

"What do you think... uh... uhm... Rico?"

"Rico" thought about it, before he decided to answer. "WHAT?"

"Well, I guess that counts for somethin', eh?" Beef said. "But anyway, I wanted to talk about that stud machine, Beef. My god. If I were homosexual, I think I would want his Mean Meat Machine. I'm telling you, uh, Rico, the girls would be all over that guy in a heartbeat if they saw him. Why, I bet even a hottie like Eliza Dushku would go after him. What do you think?"

Rico/Steve scratched his chin. "BULLSHIT."

"What?! How could you not agree? Weren't you the one who said that you'd like to make sweet manly love to Jamal Wilson?"

Steve took a step back. And promptly fell over. Meanwhile, from around the corner, Janito poked his head out.

"There is no bloody way you're going to make me wearing this sodding thing."

Beef picked up his "guy with mustache" cane and whacked Janito in the head with it. "Ow!"

"You will walk out here, or I will personally beat you with a stick!" Beef shouted.

Janito disappeared for a second, before he reemerged wearing a blonde wig and a silk dress. He spoke at a higher pitched voice than usual, bordering on Christopher Fox-levels of high-pitched, and then he spoke. "Oooh... but I want that Janito fellow! He's SO hot! With his tight little Mexican body and boyish good looks! And..ohmybloodygod, who am I trying to kid?"

Janito tore off his wig and slammed it on the ground. He then tore off the dress, revealing the rather disturbing visual of a thin Mexican wearing nothing except a thong. When Janito realized what he just did, he quickly let out a giant scream, which sounded like this:

"AIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

And then he made a face, which looked like this:

=-O

And then he ran off camera again.

Beef kind of just looked around, before a telephone booth appeared behind him. Out came Ultimate Warrior, Ken War, and Evil Smokey the Bear.

"The Warrior thanks the Little Warriors that could have made this journey through the fabrics of reality possible, in the light of our bretheren that perishes constantly." Warrior said.

"hardkorr!!111" Ken War added.

"Wha'da `ell am I doin' here?" Smokey asked.

There was a bit of an awkward silence, before Warrior, unfortunately, spoke up again.

"This period of non-speaking makes the Warrior feel as though his Warrior Heart will burst out of the Warrior's chest at any possibly moment in time." Warrior said. This prompted Beef to hold up his hand in Warrior's face, a la the Rock.

"Do shut up."

At around this time did Adam Nowell wander into the scene, looking very lost. He happened to see the group of idiots, and decided to ask a question.

"Uh, hey... you guys wouldn't happen to know where the bathroom is, would you?"

Nowell just happened to look in the direction of Evil Smokey. He proceeded to do a double take.

"AH! A BEAR!"

Nowell started to back away, but this just kind of annoyed Evil Smokey, so he grabbed Ken War by the ankles.

"hardkorr!!11"

Then he proceeded to whack Nowell across the head with Ken War, effectively killing Ken War and knocking Nowell unconscious. Beef and Steve(who just now got up) kind of looked up at Smokey, then down at Nowell. Beef finally just shrugged. "Uh... I guess we can take him."

With that, Smokey picked up Nowell, threw him over his big bear-like shoulder, and walked into the telephone booth. Beef wagged his finger at Smokey. "Don't eat him! That wouldn't be cool."

"Growl, bitch."

"The Warrior would like to complain about the capacity of which our vehicle for journeying through the fabrics of tim-"

"Would you SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP already?!" Janito yelled, finally reappearing, and thankfully more clothed than he was previously.

With that, everyone, including Ken War, squeezed into the telephone booth, and proceeded to head back to wherever it is that they came from.

Now WITH Adam Nowell.

Poser grabbed the dollar; beyond frustrated, and shoved it into the slot.

“That…is…it…you…are…going…in!” Poser screamed as he fought desperately with the soda machine, shoving it in while it shoved out. They fought for a good while and both seemed to be matched strength wise.

When…

”RAUGH!”

He forced it in with all the strength he could muster. After it cleanly went in, he took his time to brag about it. He clapped his hands and pointed at the machine, shouting insults at it like “Loser” and “HaHa.”

Eddie stopped, realizing he forgot to get his drink. He pressed the button for a Coke and waited for the familiar sound of it coming through. He stared at the opening, waiting patiently for a second. Though a second turned to a minute and a minute turned to two…and he realized…it had screwed him over again!

”That’s it, you’re going down BITCH!” he screamed and punched wildly. He pounded away, trying to free his trapped Coke that would never come out.

Tap, tap.

He slowly turned around, feeling a tap on his shoulder. And turned, only to see Nicole Carson sneering. He smiled innocently. “Have I done something wrong, officer?” he asked, as if he had done absolutely nothing wrong. And in reality, what he did was harmless.

“No, you have done nothing wrong. I’m just smiling at you because you’re so attractive.”

Poser pulled his hands off the machine, collecting himself. “Well then…heh heh.”

She pulled something out of her pocket. “You know what I call this? I call this…VANDALISM!”

Poser was shocked as she said the words. He wasn’t the type to get in trouble with the law.

He piped up, ”It’s not vandalism! I haven’t vandalized a thing!”

He tried to keep his eyes from looking over at the machine. Though Cameraman Mark added, “Yeah, I’d say he was vandalizing.”

“Oh thanks. I’m glad you tried to save my ass here.” Poser mumbled under his breath to Cameraman Mark.

“No problem.”

Carson pulled off a bright, yellow paper and stuck it to his shoulder. He looked down at it confused, though he could tell this was some kind of fine. “Would you rather have me go tell Joe Campbell about you destroying his equipment, or this fine?”

He didn’t even need to answer the question. Who would want to get in trouble with Joe Campbell? Poser peered over his shoulder and noticed what the fine read. He about dropped dead. “$5,000?!? You have to be kidding me!”

Nicole Carson reached into her pocket, searching for another slip. Eddie quickly pulled out his microphone and shoved it in her face, saving himself from yet another fine. He nervously asked the first question that came to mind.

“So you’ve beaten Eddie Cheno for the UK Title when many people they thought you would get your ass kicked. Do you have any words for Eddie Cheno? And did I mention you look lovely today?”

“Words? No, I think I’ve said all that needs to be said.” She said, then her lips curved into a cocky smirk. Before Eddie could continue, she added. “By the way, you’re horrible at changing the subject. If you don’t pay the fine then I’ll personally come after you myself.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped as she left him with the bright yellow slip stuck to his shoulder.

He threw the microphone against the ground.

It was his second time on the job and he was $5,000 in debt.

“WAIT!” suddenly burst from him, as he heard the rumbling of the Coke making its way downward.

He waited for its arrival…at least he would get his soda.

Though, it only came flying out of the opening and whacked him below the belt.

Great.

Gabriel smiled as he admired the way Dawn’s wet T-shirt clung to her round, firm breasts.

“Oh I don’t know. I think he might be quite receptive to anything you have to say.”

A pudgy-looking man paused before approaching the duo, grinning as he sniffed the air. “Is that beer on your shirt?” he asked, never raising his eyes from Dawn’s chest.

Dawn waited several moments before replying. “Got enough shower material yet, tubby? Or were you planning on whipping the little fellow out right here and start playing some five-on-one?”

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, the man handed Dawn a folded slip of paper. “I’m supposed to give this to you,” he mumbled.

Gabriel snatched the paper away. “And now you’ve done so. Go soil the air somewhere else.”

The man retreated down the hallway as Gabriel scanned the note. Dawn turned to him. “Well? What does it say? Is it bad news?”

“I’ll say.” Gabriel began reading the note aloud. “Dawn. Normally I wouldn’t give a toss what you women do to each other. But since Gwen no-showed the last match, I wouldn’t be too quick to look for a title shot from me. The only shot you’ll get from me is a white, creamy one right across your forehead. If that’s the one you’re looking for tonight, stop by my office and make yourself useful. Otherwise, sod off. Joe.”

Dawn stared blankly at the note before regaining her composure. “Son. Of. A. Bitch.”

The house was normal for all she could tell, though that usually was the case. Nicole crept closer, stepping around dark blotches which were really lawn decoractions, and toward the porch. As she stepped closer, a faint glow was seen flickering off and on.

The signs of life only complicated the situation. If there was somebody inside then she would have to deal with them. Carson slowed her pace to the doorbell, fearing what might be lurking behind the Christmas wreathe. Somebody had forgotten to take it down but how long had it been up there? Months or years? Even though the wreathe smelled rancid, the house’s condition was still normal. Somebody must have taken care of it.

Nicole jumped forward. The sound wasn’t expected, even though it was only her cell phone ringing. The Mission Impossible tune felt extremely out of place in this setting. She pulled it out and pressed it against her ear, only to pull it away. She was starting to hate herself for giving out her number so freely.

”I don’t care if the noises have stopped! They come back again! I can’t live like this, the childen are all afraid, it sounds so horrible that I can’t sleep at night. I swear, their school grades have already dropped. Do something about it! We pay the cops enough for what they do!”

Then she kept going on. It was already enough for Nicole to stand.

“A common ignorant bitch.” She mumbled while pressing the off button.

Nicole jumped back. Thinking it was another caller, she was alarmed when an agonized scream swept past the walls. The scream had been more like a loud moan, yet not of exstasy but torment. There was a moment of uneasiness as Carson listened closely to hear a whimper.

But all that came, was an inhumane screech that couldn’t be possible for vocal chords. The sound was too painfull for it to be real. It had went right through her and left her frightened as she stepped back, thinking for the first time during duty to run off.

If only she could hear the Mission Impossible tune now.

Carson turned back and forth on her feet. They wanted to get out. Her mind held her in place for a few seconds, only for her to spin in the other direction. She regained her sanity by slapping herself in the face. Even though her sanity was back, her courage was still lost.

“Just one knock. It’s harmless.” She said jittery, trying to persuade herself.

Carson gave a half-hearted tap on the door, which couldn’t have been loud enough for even her to hear.

She waited a second for someone to answer.

Then she ran like she had never before.

He wandered the backstage area, not exactly sure why, but he did it anyway. Maybe he wanted to see what the world was like from a different perspective. Maybe he wanted to see something uplifting. Maybe he couldn't stand being couped up inside his house anymore after days of cabin fever. Even though he had been going to the same bar every night since the surgery...

Eddie went to press open a door, when standing in front of him was the Law. The crowd let out a pop as Eddie and LLB locked eyes with one another before Eddie turned his eyebrows inward in an accusing stare. He slowly turned around to continue the gaze, backing down the hallway cautiously as LLB just tilted his head to his side in confusion. Eddie turned the nearest corner, darting out of sight as LLB shrugged. "What's up with him?" LLB continued on his way.

The door to the Party blasted open.

Joe Campbell busted through the doors chugging back the last of a can of Guinness, his eyes were now glazed... pupils dialated, he was fucked... the room was smoked up, card players with familiar faces sat serious faced around a table, which sported a mound of cash and various other items of value.

"You fucking german douche bag... Sean, is this motherfucker tipping the scales or what?"

Tyler Burton slammed down his cards and turned to Token Weed, Weed however was long since out of the game... as Burton gazed across the room, he caught sight of Token laying comatose across a table with a bottle of vodka resting in his hand.

"Jesus christ, am I the only motherfucker playing this game?" Inmate snarled.

"No." Krueger grunted in his broad German accent "You are ze' only mother fucker losing zis' game... AHAHAHAHA!"

Krueger's arrogant laugh bellowed through the room as he reached across the table and raked the cash in toward his chest.

"Alright Kraut, one more fucking round... but I swear, if I find out you were cheating... teeth are gonna fly." Inmate snarled pulling off his rolex and dropping it in the center of the table.

Campbell squinted.

"Eh... where the fucking fuck is everyone? I set up a fucking party and three of you turn up?"

Joe glanced around the room, Inmate and Krueger were now engaging in another round of poker, basically... paying a drunken Joe no attention, Sean Williams continued to lay motionless in a drunken sleep, and several of the whores sat around the room doing lines of crack, smoking pot... and generall not doing what they were supposed to be doing.

"For fucks sake... I fucking, well fucking... fuck!" Joe growled, hands on head "I don't mean to be rude guys... but these are some fine ass hookers, that you aren't fucking."

Silence.

Joe approached a line of crack, quickly snorting it... he wiped his nose cleaned and followed up by quickly downing a vodka.

"Ah well, you know what they say... if you want something doing right, do it your fucking self." Joe uttered, undoing his belt and approaching the hookers.

Not the actions of a man who in just a short while, would attempt to make his two biggest signings to date.

2002 years after divinity: Wasp turned his hand away from Hughes, leaving him to rot for simply being.

This was the most constant thought in Richard Williams the 2nd's mind. Over and over again, like a locomotive wheel on the track. Mere seconds between the end and the beginning of it.

Simply, comically, dramatically... beautiful. Ty Hughes had been eliminated from The Iliad because he wasn't an ideal. He was worse than being some unidealistic state of being; he was the opposite of what should be.

A half-breed. Someone who tried to pass as both the saved and the sinned. Somewhere in him the blood of Richard's kind did flow; but everywhere else, the nigger-juice of wrong filled his body.

It made Richard sick.

He stepped out of the car. Ricky, his arms wrapping his legs like a lumberjack may hug a skinnier tree, in the backseat, stayed, looking out the window.

Richard looked at him through the tint of the backseat door windows. He could raise him to be a God.

He thought again of the parallel he saw between God and Job and Ricky and Hughes, and snickered. If he did, if he raised Ricky to be Godlike, a statue of what would be the best his kind could offer -- it'd be looked back on as something much more than a slight coincidence.

It'd be the first verification of Ricky's true state, to believers.

Because the army of white power would be coming. Soon, very soon, and there would be hell to pay by skin tone.

Ricky didn't know this; inside the car, he was humming to himself "One".

And Richard didn't hear him, thankfully.

They would have to wait.

"Sellout" hit.

Most of the Asylum fans could have cared less. However some cheered for cHEESE and egg NOG as they came down the ramp and strolled up into the Asylum. Something was different about them today. They weren't just wearing their usual ring attire... no, today they had added something. Something... odd. Light gray tuxedo tops. Black arm bans fastened to their left arm with the Mega Job logo sewn on.

Oh, you HAVE to be kidding me.

The Legion of Dairy were honoring the fallen Mega Job.

After last week's epic Immortals, Mega Job: The Epic Tag Team were forced to leave the Asylum, causing most of middle America to weep.

The Legion strode solemnly towards the Asylum. Each had something under their arms... but what is it? cHEESE quickly answered the question.

"Tonight... is the saddest day of my life. Did that echo? No? God... can't get anything done right around here. It's ridiculous, NOG. I mean, when I tell the sound tech I want a 'Lou Gerhig', what's he think I... oh, right, the mike is still on. Tonight we, the Legion of Dairy, on behalf of the juggernaut that is the Asylum and Joe Cambell LLC, wish to dedicate this cage... this wonderful construct that has held so many brilliant matches featuring Beef and Janito and their cavalcade of characters. Steve, Ken War, etcetera. From this moment forth, the Asylum cage shall finally have the name it truly deserves: 'The Mega Job: The Epic Tag Team Memorial Eternal Flame Cage of Hope and Bleeding Fighters', or just 'tA: The Epic Cage' for short. egg NOG, if you would."

egg NOG bowed slightly and pulled a bottle of cheap, Kroger brand champagne out from under his left arm. He smacked it hard on the cage to christen it.

But nothing happened.

The bottle didn't break.

egg NOG looked over to cHEESE, who just shruged. egg NOG slamed the bottle against the cage again, and again nothing happened. This kept going on for the most boring two minutes ever put to tape. Finally, egg NOG took the mike from cHEESE.

"This one is for our retired homies, yo."

egg NOG poped the cork. It seems that most of the champagne was just bubbles. egg NOG poured most of the bottle on tA: The Epic Cage.

"Now, if you'll all just bow your heads and try to visualize the brilliance that was Mega Job once more... just imagine your favorite Mega Job match. I know it's hard to pick, so just kind of mash them all into one big ball of hea..."

And then "Fuck The Police" by Dope began to play.

Pain and Suffering made their way towards tA: The Epic Cage, but stayed away from egg NOG and cHEESE for obvious reasons. Clayton pulled a microphone out.

"This is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen. The whole night has been taken up by you fucking apes paying 'tribute' to a shitty, over-rated, ridiculous excuse for a tag team."

"Hey! Mega Job was NOT shitty! The were epic!"

"Fuck that. I'm so sick of hearing about Mega Job leaving the Asylum! They didn't even win at Immortals!" Clayton exclaimed. "I'm not sure if they ever won. They were horrid."

"Just because they lost at Immortals doesn't mean they sucked! Lots of people didn't win at Immortals!"

Clayton snarled as he pointed to the duo from Dairytown, "Oh... I forgot. You two lost, too, didn't you? You engineered this absurd story that you had gotten two stars out of retirement and then fought some midgets, only to get your shit kicked by two rookies from 21w! But that's why you're doing this, isn't it? No one else pays attention to you fucking losers, so you all have to make a big deal out of nothing."

egg NOG shot back, "Hybrid Fusion got lucky, and you know it! The D are tight!"

egg NOG and cHEESE then stood back to back with their arms crossed, in the universal "bad-ass" pose.

"Lucky my ass... I bet we could destroy you right now."

"You're brave, I'll give you that." Clayton chuckled. "Brave to stand up to, clearly, the best tag team in BOTH wrestling and fighting combined, as we proved at Immortals when we made The Bullies look silly. Here's the challenge: we'll see you in tA: The Epic Cage!"

With that, Pain and Suffering rushed towards tA: The Epic Cage. Not expecting them to actually do it, egg NOG and cHEESE tried to run away. Clayton caught egg NOG and Drake grabed cHEESE. Clayton spun egg NOG around to his side and smashed his face into the mesh of the Asylum. Drake kicked cHEESE hard in the stomach, doubling him over. He put him in a powerbomb position, then lifted him up to his shoulders. He dropped hard to the ground, and soon after, Clayton's leg found cHEESE's throat. Drake walked over to egg NOG, who's pulling himself up. Drake kicked him hard between the ribs, forcing him back down. He lifted egg NOG into a powerbomb position, but instead of a normal powerbomb, he hit egg NOG with The Wasting, putting NOG down. Satisfied with what they'd done, Pain and Suffering walked away, leaving two men who just wanted to honor an epic team.

He had turned his back on Joe and started fighting for the “good” side.

Now, however, everything had changed...again.

The Television Champion walked out from the back with his eyes to the floor. He didn’t even have the belt with him as he walked down to the cage. Fans cheered and yelled his name, but Providence didn’t look up at all. He was on a path towards the cage, and it appeared that nothing was going to interfere with that.

After finally reaching the cage, Providence walked over and grabbed a microphone and then stood in the center of the cage for a moment. The music had stopped playing, and the fans were cheering louder, but Providence’s eyes remained fixed to the ground. The fans yelled for him to say something, and he finally lifted his head up and began to speak.

“Sharon...” He paused for a moment, as if saying her name took the energy out of him. A moment later, he continued. “Sharon, I need you back. I can’t let you walk away from me. I need your love, Sharon. I need you!”

The crowd began to whisper as he spoke, finding out for the first time that Nerva and Providence were no longer together. Everyone in the crowd seemed shocked. There was no cheering now, only whispers.

“Come out here, Sharon. I need you out here right now. I need to be with you,” he said as his voice began to rise. His face still looked white as chalk. “I can’t go on without you, Sharon. I haven’t been able to eat anything or drink anything since the other night. All I’ve been doing is thinking about you. You...”

Again, he paused and looked back down to the ground. His dark hair hung over, shielding his face from the fans, who were looking on intently now. After taking a deep breath, Providence finally looked back up. His eyes were still closed.

“You shattered my heart, Sharon....I need you out here right now. I need you now more than ever before.”

Providence looked up towards the entranceway, hoping that Nerva would walk out from the back. He called for her several more times on the microphone, repeating himself over and over as if the words were coming out automatically. He wasn’t even thinking about what was being said, because his only focus was on the entranceway, to see Nerva come out.

Finally, she did.

A few of the fans cheered for Nerva, but most of them were still in shock by what they had just heard from Providence. It wasn’t necessarily that they were placing blame, but they knew now was not the time for cheers or boos. This was a personal moment, and many of them felt uncomfortable even being there for it.

As Nerva finally stepped into the cage, Providence immediately dropped down to one knee and held his hand up, reaching towards her. She stepped forward and took his hand and looked into his eyes, but it was not the passionate look they had shared in previous weeks.

“You’ve been the reason for my life these past few weeks, Sharon,” Providence said as he looked into her eyes. “You gave me a reason to be the man I am today, to be the man I always knew I could be. I had no purpose in life. I was a slave. Then you came into my life and changed it forever. I love you, Sharon. I love you with all my heart.”

The crowd remained silent. Some even wiped their eyes quickly, hoping that the person next to them wouldn’t see it. Nerva took it all in as well and held Providence’s hand in hers, caressing it with her thumb. She hesitated for a moment and then looked into his eyes and spoke.

“I’m sorry, Darren,” she said with a mix of sadness and sympathy in her voice, “but I just can’t be with you anymore.”

The words pierced Providence’s entire body - his ears, his head, and especially his heart.

His head dropped suddenly, and his slammed his eyes shut, tightening them until it hurt. The beginning of a tear started forming in the corner of his right eye, and it appeared he was going to break down just as he had when she first told him.

In the blink of an eye, it all changed, and the sadness...the hurt...the pain...it all turned to anger.

Providence sprang back to his feet and pulled Nerva in. Before she was able to react, he lifted her up and slammed her down violently with “The Fall.” The crowd gasped loudly, wondering if they had really witnessed Providence wiping out his love in the middle of the cage.

Standing over her, Providence looked down at Nerva’s face. No words, no tears, no emotions....nothing. After a few seconds had passed, he slowly walked from the cage and headed to the back.

Joe Campbell marched, or rather stumbled... from behind the curtain, he still had traces of crack down the front of his shirt, lumps of what could only be described as carroty vomit down his pants, and the general look of a man who not 30 minutes ago was doing as many drinks, drugs and hookers as possible.

The fans, suffice to say... booed.

"Yep, well I can kind of relate people." Joe stammered "I'm sorry, this Show was a bit fo a mistake... see, I wanted to give you all an insight as to what goes on when we aren't kicking the fuck out of each other, but it's gone a bit pear shaped... between fleeting super heroes and Romeo and Juliet up there, it's generally been a bit crap.

Speaking of Romeo and Juliet, am I the only one who wishes that Providence and Nerva would just skip to the bit of the book where they fucking kill themselves, that we we could all be spared the boring drivel that we just witnessed... but anyway, matters at hand.

Joe reached the Asylum, pulling his pants up properly and fastening his belt before navigating the steps and staggering over the Asylum rim.

"Earlier on... I congratulated and rewarded two men who made what transpired at Immortals possible, Token Weed and the Inmate were given the highest possible accolade and gift that there is here in the Asylum.

I stepped off of their bollocks, and may very well stay off for a few months.

But regardless... the rewards and congratulations are yet to end, for there are two other special individuals who made Immortals that little bit sweeter, their names?

Mike Ritz

And the Immortal Champion.

Kellen Kinkade

So in the spirit of starting as we wish to continue, please welcome... the Sultan of Smooth... MIKE RITZ!

The crowd exploded with both cheers and jeers, while Ritz had aided the Asylum in defeating 21wrestling at Immortals... he was still, deep down at the core, a fucking wrestler.

A massive array of golden pyrotechnics exploded at the top of the aisle... as Ritz made his way down it to the sound of "Fiend" by Coal Chamber... as he clambered into the Asylum, a drunken and generally smashed Campbell leaned in for a hug... Ritz grimaced however... forcing a manly handshake.

"Mike Ritz ladies and gentlemen!" Joe said enthusiastically, the crowd not sharing his sentiments.

"Now Mike, I think before we continue... we really need to give credit where credit is due, you see Mike... since last Sunday, the world has been selling you short, the world... has been stealing your shine, you see ladies and gentlemen... this man helped the Asylum more than any of you will ever know.

Or at least, more than any of you would have known." Joe says with a smile, Ritz tilts his head... smiling deviously.

"You see folks... Mike Ritz made a great contribution at Immortals... up until now, you only knew the half of it... that half, being this..." Joe went on, pointing up to the video wall as footage began to roll.

Mike Ritz rushing down to the ring.

Mike Ritz nailing Mr. Haunt with a Directors Cut.

Mike Ritz draping Kellen Kinkade over the Inmate for the win.

And Mike Ritz, and Kellen Kinkade... stomping on the betrayed Mark Knight, effectively placing defeat in the hands which had seconds earlier gripped victory.

Joe feigned wiping a tear from his eye, as Ritz continued the smile and nod cockily.

"It makes me cry every time I see it... one man's sacrifice, Mike Ritz threw away everything he had to help me out, to help out the Asylum... but he didn't just put the nail in the coffin of 21wrestling... oh no." Joe said pausing, the crowd riling up.

"The son of a bitch hand carved the coffin himself." Joe said with a wicked grin as Ritz mockingly feigned an expression of shock, Ritz and Joe were well and truly playing up to the cameras.

"Don't believe me?" Joe chuckled "See for yourselves."

The crowd turned with baited breath... as the video wall flickered into action.

CCTV footage.

From Immortals.

Glen Miller.

Miller hobbled down the corridors backstage, his knee heavily strapped, his body drenched with sweat... he was preparing to go out and fight for 21wrestling one last time, but seconds later... he was attacked by Mr. Haunt, the man found guilty of attacking him.

The man, who was innocent.

The pieces of the puzzle slowly former together, as Miller continued to walk... a figure emerged from the shadows of the corriror... clutching in his hands a steel baseball bat.

CRUNCH!

A wicked shot shattering Miller's already fragile leg... two further sickening shots followed as a face down Miller screamed in agony, he hadn't seen his asailant... but the camera's had.

"I think you all know what happens next... as HBK said on Raw a few weeks back, they can do wonders with video footage these days... to enhance just about anything.

But, why the fuck do we need to enhance anything... when I can just do this?" Joe sneered... pulling a second microphone from his belt... and handing it slowly and sinisterly into the palm of Mike Ritz... who took a long, deep breath.

"IT

WAS

MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Ritz bellowed at the top of his voice, Joe grinned insanely, as the crowd steadily began to take the side of the former 21w champion.

"Someone had to put that old fucking coffin dodger out to pasture... and who better... than THE..."

Ritz stopped to arrogantly inhale.

"GOLDEN. GOD." Ritz sneered... had this been a 21w show he would have been packing more heat than Guy Fawkes on bonfire night, he had just stolen the title of one of the most respected legends in wrestling, and given it to himself.

"Golden God!" Joe chuckled "Love it! So unique... so classy, you are a genius Ritz... a genius, c'mon... lets watch that footage of Miller's leg snapping one more time... just one!"

...

"No." Ritz suddenly jerked upright... his back arching... and his expression far more serious.

"... no?" Joe questioned sheepishly.

"Give me my fucking money Campbell, then we can watch all the video tapes in the world." Ritz snarled.

"Ah yes, of course... the money! Why I didn't explain to the idiots out here... of course, I didn't just use my charm and good looks to bring Mike Ritz to my level of thinking... fuck no, he and I both knew that by helping me screw 21wrestling, he'd never be able to go back there again." Joe said with a sinister smile.

"That's why I offered to pay him the rest of his five year contract, in cash." Joe said, finally bringing the smile back to Ritz' face.

"10 million dollars." Joe growled "10 million dollars was the bounty on 21wrestling's head... and this man did the dirty deal, he not only made sure that Kinkade would go onto the main event by assaulting and ending the career of Glen Miller, but he also finished the job like a true business man, by stopping Mr. Haunt from exposing and ceasing our masterplan... he brought the Immortal title home."

Ritz continued to grin.

As Joe handed him a briefcase full of cash.

"Here you go pal, you earned this."

Ritz quickly opens up the briefcase slightly... his eyes glowing green with what lay inside, swiftly... he snapped it shut and smiled.

Joe began to pace the Asylum.

"You see ladies the gentlemen, this man was as crucial a piece of the puzzle as any other, I told him... that if Glen Miller was still standing after his match with Kinkade and the Iliad, that he would HAVE to take him out somehow, a stroke of genius was the fact that Kinkad already managed to get half of the job done during his match with Miller earlier on, a bat strike here... a bat strike there, the plan worked brilliantly.

I don't know how else to thank you Mike..." Joe said overjoyed, as he started to unfold a document from his jack pocket.

"Other than to say... WELCOME TO THE FAMILY!" Joe roared out, spinning around the holding a contract high in the air.

Only to see... much to his and the crowd's confusion, Mike Ritz walking up the aisle.

"Mike...?" Joe questioned "Mike? Where are you going man?"

"Home." Ritz uttered back down the microphone.

"HOME? But Mike... I'm offering you a contract to work here... side by side with me, fighting for the Asylum! Come on... come back down here and sign buddy!" Joe said, holding the contract up and smiling.

Ritz turned, and smirked.

"No offence Campbell, but me? Mike Ritz? Working at this shitole? I don't fucking think so." Ritz said with an evil grin, dropping the microphone on the aisle and marching up it, briefcase in hand.

As Ritz marched through the curtain, Campbell threw the contract to the ground in dismay.

"Well FUCK you too then Mr. Bigshot, fuck off back home to Las Vegas or wherever... we don't fucking need the likes of you wrestler scum around here." Joe sneered furiously... stepping on the contract and ripping it to bits.

Joe suddenly turned to the crowd, a telltale smile across his face that suggested all was not as it seemed.

"Besides motherfucker... you obviously aren't as business savvy as you think... a wise man once said, always count the money.

You'd be surprised how much 5 million dollars looks like 10.

Twat." Joe uttered, chuckling to himself.

"But lets forget about Mike fucking Ritz, he was just a pawn in the game as far as I'm concerned... this man was the King of it all... this man... the next man to sign as an Asylum fighter... the Immortal champion.

Kellen... KINKADE!" Joe screamed at the top of his voice.

"Unreal" by Soil.

The crowd exploded with cheers, as disturbing images flickered across the video wall... sure enough, a man emerged at the top of the aisle, strapped around his waist... the most coveted title, perhaps in the history of any sport.

the Immortal title.

"Yes!" Joe exclaimed "Here he comes ladies and gentlemen... finally, you'll all discover why Kellen did it, why he sided with me... why he turned his back on wrestling... 21wrestling, why he is the Immortal champion!" Joe continued to roar.

Kinkade stooped as he marched down the aisle... he looked, visibly different now, where he'd sported a long white support on his arm, there was now bare... heavily tattooed skin, perhaps the support had merely been to hide it.

As he picked up the microphone... the lights ion the arena came up.

His hair was now jet black with red tips... the blonde haired posterboy was no more, a grizzly beard now covered his chin... and the eye.

His left eye.

Was completely white.

Kinkade looked like a freak, but more importantly... a freak who had around his waist the most important title to the wrestling, or fighting industry for that matter.

As Kinkade stepped into the Asylum, a huge "Judas! Judas!" chant broke out, to which he simply smirked.

"The Immortal champion everybody!" Joe roared... pointing ala Scott Hall at Kinkade, who simple stood before him, the glimmering gold title around his waist.

"So come on Kellen, don't keep them all waiting... tell them all why you did it, tell them why you sided with me! Tell them why you betrayed wrestling!" Joe hopped up and down wioth excitement.

"You know what Joe, why don't you tell them?" Kinkade suddenly voiced up... Joe suddenly stopped bouncing.

"Well... I er... well you see." Joe struggled.

Kinkade simple gestured for Joe to continue.

"Well uh... Kade, I don't actually... know?" Joe asked back... shrugging his shoulders.

This, apparently... had been what Kinkade had been waiting for.

He suddenly started to pace around Joe in circles, intent in his stride... intent... worn on his face.

"Exactly!" Kinkade snarled "Exactly Campbell... you don't know... you don't know why I did it... and quite frankly, you don't just know shit about my motives.

You don't know shit about me either.

My father once told me... that the wise learn many things from their enemies... but it seems as though you haven't learned much at all from Mark Knight, he was a gullible braggard just like you, he saw no deeper than the surface... he failed to even scratch it, and while ridiculing him Campbell, you only served to ridicule yourself."

Joe gulped.

This was not good.

"One would have presumed that you would do a little background checking before you set out on this little endeavor... but evidently not Joe, evidently you preferred to walk into this blind as always, trust me Campbell... no man appreciates the power of sight greater than the man whom has been blinded, that's why it hurts me so much to see you walking around with your eyes shut.

How dare you, how dare you presume that I would simply turn up here tonight and sign myself away to you? You know nothing about me Campbell, you know nothing about what make's me tick? What was ever in this for me Campbell? What could I possibly have ever gained that could amount to the respect of the fans?

A contract with your shitty little promotion?

I think not, don't flatter yourself little man.

This... this was my fee." Kinkade snarled, tapping the Immortal title with his fist.

"This was all it was ever about Campbell, the exposure... the way to the front of the line, I am Immortal Campbell, and I am everywhere, billboards, advertisements... my message is spreading and soon everyone will hear it.

I am everywhere now, and no longer will people refuse to look me in the face... no longer will they see a monster, they will see but a man... a man who seeks revenge.

So Campbell... and everyone else here in attendance? You want to know why I turned my back on 21wrestling? You want to know my motives? What makes me tick?

Fuck you.

You can wait."

The crowd exploded with boos, as Joe Campbell stood trembling on the spot... Kinkade suddenly laughed at Joe, before turning and exiting the Asylum... making his way up the aisle.

Joe had dismissed all of his fighters, there was nobody to stop him.

"W... Kinkade? W... where are you going? Come and sign this contract mate... we can work this out!"

"Fuck you." Kinkade bellowed back at Campbell.

"Fuck me? W... what the fuck is this about Kinkade? Get the fuck back here... WHERE ARE YOU GOING MOTHERFUCKER... WHERE ARE YOU GOING WITH MY TITLE BELT?

WHERE

ARE

YOU

GOING?" Joe roared at the top of his voice, falling to his knees.

Kellen Kinkade turned for one last time, looking Joe Campbell in the eye.

"Where am I going?" Kinkade shot back... before remaining silent for a moment.

...

"You'll see."