Joe Campbell, was wrong.

That’s right. Clayton Richler and Drake Kerrigan AKA Pain & Suffering walked out onto the stage with their Asylum tag team titles draped around their shoulders to the tune of “Fuck The Police” - Dope. These were the two men who dethroned those two “fuckheads”, as Asylum would say, that called themselves “Syndication”, whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. Now, of course, the team of Pain & Suffering did not only dethrone Syndication, they fucking destroyed them. Syndication is no more, and you could easily tell by the looks on the faces of Drake and Clayton as they walked down to the cage that they were more than happy about that accomplishment.

Drake walked into the cage and took his normal stance in the corner. Clayton followed behind him, but turned around just before getting into the cage. He walked up to a bleach-blonde haired male kid wearing a 21w shirt. Clayton grabbed the kid’s shirt and hauled him over the railing, dragging him into the cage.

“So, buddy!” Clayton shouted, looking down at the kid with a smirk on his face. “How’s it going?” Clayton asked as the apprehensive kid backed up into the corner of the cage.

“Let me out!” The kid yelled, trying to make his way to the door. Clayton blocked him with ease. “Wha…what.. do you want?”

“Take it easy, kid!” Clayton chuckled out. “Just calm down there. I’ve got a few questions for you.”

The teenager ran at Clayton and began beating on his chest. “LET ME OUT!!!” He screamed psychotically. Drake quickly sorted the ordeal out by restraining the kid’s arms and hauling him into the corner. Clayton brushed his shirt off and walked into the center of the cage.

“Thank you, Drake,” Clayton stated, glaring at the now-fatigued boy. “Now look what you went and did, you beat yourself out… I guess that’s just a typical mannerism of brain-dead 21w fans.” The audience reacted with neutrally at Clayton’s insult, mostly with laughing.

“Don’t get me wrong, people!” Clayton said, beginning to pace around the cage’s perimeter. “I fucking hate you Asylum addicts out there as well. But, I already went over that a few weeks ago in my rant on ignorance, didn’t I?” The fans acknowledged Clayton with an unenthusiastic response.

“And, like I said, I hope that I got through to at least a few of you.” Clayton said, walking over to where Drake was holding the frightened kid now. “And, fortunately for all of you, I’ve got more wisdom to spread.”

The fans groaned, but Clayton simply smirked and pointed down at the restrained kid. “This boy… is a prime example of the idiocy of wrestling. Now, I, myself… was once a wrestler. So was Drake, and trust me, getting away from that horror-show of a business was fine by us.”
Drake nodded, and Clayton continued. “21st Century Wrestling is what they call themselves… they all seem to be so proud, responding to Joe’s threats like a bunch of robotic drones.

“Well the truth is, YOU ALL FELL INTO THE TRAP!” Clayton echoed throughout the arena, causing the audience to erupt in another mixed reaction. The “Asylum’ers” seemed to be enjoying Clayton’s rant, whereas the “21w’ers” were denouncing his words.

The boy tried to struggle to break free from Drake’s grasp, but he was no contender against Drake’s sheer power. “That’s right,” Clayton restarted. “It was a trap. Set up by Joe Campbell himself. You wrestling idiots were lured into this war-game that was envisioned in the universally sick mind of Joe Campbell, and now you’re all really in for it. You shouldn’t have even thought about retaliating against us… and now that that foolish Mike Powell has accepted Joe’s proposition, Joe will not rest until every single fucking wrestler in 21w is eliminated.

“And it’s not like I mind that,” Clayton said with a sneer, glaring into the audience now. “No. I’m actually enjoying these mind games that Campbell is playing on all of you wrestling patrons, and it actually makes me happy, for once, to be apart of this Hell that we aptly call ‘the Asyl-’.”

Clayton’s words were cut short by the sudden blasting of “I Hope You Die” by the Bloodhound Gang throughout the arena. Suddenly, two very unfamiliar faces stepped out onto the stage holding mics and with two gold titles strapped around their waists. A confused, neutral reaction filled the stadium.

The music died down, and the man on the left, quite a tall and formidable figure stepped forward. “I have no idea what you two BITCHES are doing in that stupid cage, but I sure as hell do know that you, Clayton, need to SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!” The fans erupted into spontaneous applause at the man’s demand.

Drake made a motion to run after the two intruders, but Clayton signaled him not to by sticking his hand in front of him. Clayton then turned around looked toward the stage, squinting.

“Am I just seeing things, or did two suicidal homosexuals just step out onto the stage during my wisdom-delivering?” Clayton asked. “For your sake, I hope I’m seeing things.”

The larger man on the left chuckled and stepped forward. “Wisdom-delivering? Maybe you mean shit-spewing, buddy?” He questioned, a confident smile forming over his face now.

Clayton smirked sardonically. “OK, so I’ve already gotten the message that you two have a shitty taste in music just by hearing your pathetic theme song. And now I’m beginning to think that you’re two wise-guys, right? Well okay then, please, enlighten me. What do you call yourselves? Besides Siegfried and Roy, I mean.”

The fans chuckled as the man on the left nodded his head, seemingly unimpressed. “I’m Marc Baiden, he’s Seth Kard, we’re the 21w tag team champions,” Marc said, taking a few steps forward. “And I promise you, you’ll be remembering our names for a long time once we get through with you.”

Clayton smiled and chuckled. “Ha… ohh, I see, so you’re two vigilantes or something, coming out here to ‘represent’ your two-bit wrestling federation. Well, let me tell you, Marc, you couldn’t have made a worse choice in whom to fuck with. We are the last two fighters in tA that you’d want to fuck with.”

Seth Kard then took a few steps forward. “Do we look intimidated to you two little bitches?” Seth asked, smiling nonchalantly. “You’re obviously mad that we interrupted your little ritual there, so why don’t you go ahead and show us what you’ve got?”

Drake headbutted the squirming kid and threw him out of the cage door. He then walked up next to Clayton and said maniacally, “We’re waiting.”

“Oh no… no way.” Baiden said, shaking his head. “Do you really think that we’re just going to hop into your insane little cage? That’s fucking ridiculous, and you two as former wrestlers should realize that.”

Clayton simply shook his head and exited the cage door. Drake followed him around to the front, where they came to a stop directly in front of the Bullies.

“There’s no way that you two dicks are getting away with this stunt,” Clayton said, glaring at both Baiden and Kard. “Sunday Show on August 11th. Be there.” Clayton demanded as he and Drake began to walk towards Baiden and Kard.

Pain & Suffering tried to make their way past, but the Bullies blocked their path. “Why not settle this here?” Marc said, shoving Clayton back. Drake then sent Seth sprawling down to the ramp with a strong headbutt, and Marc dropkicked Drake. Clayton then ran forward and nailed Marc down with a running elbow-smash.

Drake scrambled back to his feet and ran to the top of the ramp, where Clayton was waiting. Marc and Seth quickly got back up to their feet as both members of Pain & Suffering disappeared backstage.

“August 11th it is…” Marc Baiden mumbled with determination as both Bullies threw down their mics and made their way backstage.

"Fucking little cunts... yep, more 21w chaps... and do you know what they're doing here? No... they aren't laying down a challenge, that's a fucking mask... they want contracts, pure and effin simple." Joe said with a smirk, clutching his head.

"Gah... fucking migrane." He snorted, finally reaching the Asylum and clambering into it.

"You know... I've seen some cheap things in my time within the business... I've seen lies, treachery... deciet, the lot... but last week at Everything or Nothing, I saw something that eclipses everything I just mentioned.

Cowardess.

That's right... look at my head, bruised... battered... my back is fucked up in all manner of ways and I feel like shit... and why?

I'll tell you why.

Because last week I was attacked by a faceless agressor, beaten to the ground and left bleeding on the street.

And I bet that leaves you wondering just who?

I'll tell you who.

21wrestling." Joe said, the crowd booing at the very mention.

"Sure, I may have seen some initials on a number plate... but they don't mean shit to me... I was attacked by 21wrestling on the whole... and now they have to pay, on Thursday, they have to pay... and the price ain't cheap boys, oh no." Joe sneered, suddenly clambering out of the Asylum and pacing back up the aisle.

"You'll pay for this... mark my words, I know exactly how you lot play now... cowardly, you'd never dare to attack us like we attacked you... fair play, I guess I'll have to make some arrangements." Joe said with a sneer, dropping the microphone and rushing to the back as the show went elsewhere.

egg NOG blinked.

"Ha! You've lost the staredown! Now you have to give us our rematch!" Beef said, smiling.

cHEESE looked at egg NOG and smacked him on the arm.

"Dammit, egg NOG, you BLINKER." cHEESE said. egg NOG pouted, and looked at cHEESE.

"Come on, cHEESE, I couldn't help it. The midget was tugging on my leg." The camera panned down, and saw Steve having a death grip on egg NOG's leg. egg NOG tried to shake him off, but it was a no go.

"Alright. Look. We'll fight you in whatever match you want, if you make him let go of my leg." egg NOG said, trying to do anything to make Steve let go. Both Janito and Beef smiled an ear-to-ear smile, and Janito looked down at Steve.

"Okay, Steve, you can let go of the bloody wanker, now."

Steve reluctantly let go, and all three members of Mega Job left, leaving cHEESE and egg NOG to look at each other.

"What a bunch of idiots." cHEESE commented.

egg NOG could only nod in agreement.

“I told you I’d fucking do it and I have. You wanna start a fucking war, I’m your main man, I’m your insider, I’m your fucking field marshal!”

Joe looked at the man in front of him and for the first time in years aimed a smile at him.

“Well done Ty… But I think, if we’re gonna really cause a stir over there, then we can add just a little something to that belt.”

Hypnosis looked curious as he looked at his 21w hardcore title belt, until it clicked, and for the first time since him joining the Asylum, Ty Hughes and Joe Campbell were on the same page.

A beat was heard coming from down the hallway. Mark hadn't heard it before, and it had a hip new school vibe that Cameraman Mark hated with a fiery passion. He was like a seventy year old man dressed in the skin of a twenty five year old cameraman to tell you the truth. It's amazing he can even work in an environment such as the Asylum.

Then again, he's not really employed anyway.

Walking up towards Mark was a man dressed in pants that were practically down to his kneecaps. He had a backwards cap on his head and his skin was incredibly tanned to the point where he was almost black. He had gold chains wrapped around his neck. A stereo was on his shoulders, playing

"Rock Star" by Nerd.

"Bling bling!" Mark looked up at the man staring before him, and dropped the camera to the ground. It shattered on impact.

"Dear God Poser! What the hell did you do to yourself!"

"It's cool, ain't it sucka?" Poser quirked before setting the boom box on the table. He was relieved to get that weight off his body. "I'm so into the slang here man, I'm just chillin' and illin' like a fucken villain man."

Mark blinked, much like Joey Malone would, before hanging his head.

"Awh fool, don't be trippin' yo!"

"Well, then I won't..." Cameraman Mark trailed off in confusion. "Trip."

Luckily, into the arena walked Eddie Cheno, carrying a gym bag in his left hand and a concentrated look on his face. That is, until he gained one look at Eddie Scott Poser. He pointed a small bit in confusion, looked at Mark, who shrugged his shoulders. "Yo mang, dis be funken hys-funken-sterical!"

"Don't be steppin' up on my turf dawg, or else I be cappin' ya ass!" Cheno was taken aback, but then burst into hysterical laughter. He just walked off to head to a secluded part of his arena to plot his revenge on Nicole.

Mark sat on his chair laughing as much as Cheno, almost to the point of falling off of it. Poser just stared as Cheno made his way down the hall and away from him. "Man, ain't that be a dis yo." Poser looked over at Mark with a serious look of anger, which caused Mark to laugh out loud even more. He fell off the chair and landed on his side, clutching his ribs in laughter.

"Please Eddie, Please just stop!" Mark gasped for breath. "You're killing me!"

Mega Job Vs the Legion of Dairy

Mega Job.

The four members of Mega Job(yes, four, because Oddjob counted for half and Ken War counted for the other half) walked to the Asylum cage to the cheers of the crowd. Beef and Steve entered the Asylum cage, and allowed for their opponents to come out.

"Sellout" by Biohazard hit.

Out came the Legion of Dairy. In came the "LoD!" chants. cHEESE and egg NOG walked out to the cage, and entered it.

The bell rang.

Beef charged the Legion of Dairy.

Sellout.

Janito charged the Legion of Dairy.

Sellout.

Ken War entered the cage, dropped his North Dakotan Janitorweight title, and charged the Legion of Dairy, tripped, lost his head, recovered it, then charged the Legion of Dairy again.

Sellout.

As Ken War's head fell off again, the referee made the mandatory ten count, and the bell rang. The announcer stood up, and made the announcement.

"Er, uh... ladies and, uhm, gentlemen... the winners of this match... via... uh... getting knocked out... MEGA JOB!"

egg NOG's jaw must have dropped through the cage's canvas.

"WHAAAATTTT!??!?!" cHEESE yelled. He then spotted Steve threatening the announcer with Oddjob, and since any many would piss their pants upon being threatened with Oddjob, of course the announcer made the decision. Before the Legion could react, all four members of Mega Job(yes, even Ken War, who died TWICE in this match so far) had exited the ring.

Mega Job 1, LoD 1.

The Series of Stupidity will probably continue.

Much to our disliking.

Today, as on most Sundays, Joe has his employees rushing in and out of his office, trying to set fights up between them and someone else.

However, today is just a bit different. Joe called these two men into his office as a request of their services.

"I'm sick of that bloody Mexican calling himself an Englishman," Joe said. He wasn't in his seat at the moment; he walked back and forth, tapping one fist irritably against the back wall. "It's a real insult -- these American birds refuse to talk to me because of it."

"Women do happen to be the worst plague on this Earth, Mr. Campbell," Richard Williams the 2nd said.

"That's your bloody opinion." Joe stopped and looked at them. "What I want your boy here to do is to try to take out El Janito."

"Try? Try? Mr. Campbell, look at my son! Forget about the Pay Per View -- he had to deal with your two top guns, and he damn near took them out. He would've broken Inmate, if it weren't for that damned Token Weed character."

"Well... just take him out of all this, all right?" Campbell said.

"Can do, Mr. Campbell... for a certain price. And another shot at that Burton character, or that Token Weed, or even this LLB guy, sooner rather than later." Richard Williams stood up, extended a hand to Campbell. Campbell looked at it for a second, then shook it. Sure, he was promoting racism by doing this. Sure, he was supporting these people that would probably get him involved in lawsuits.

But when he looked at Ricky Wasp, he saw money either way. The big brute was the pale version of a swift couple million bucks. More than enough to cover any negativities he would get by having these two around.

Joe sat back down behind his desk. He looked around.

Next.

Gwen O'Reilly Vs Dawn Van Dammage

“Good Rats” began playing over the sound system, and Gwen O’Reilly stepped through the curtains. She moved with purpose, walking quickly to the Asylum. This was an important fight for her: did she still have what it took to succeed in the harsh reality of the Asylum?

No sooner had the door to the Asylum closed, and Gwen quickly crossed the distance between her and her opponent. She would not be denied this time. It was all or nothing. Time to prove - Dawn’s leg was a blur as she turned, her shin slamming into the side of Gwen’s head just below the ear. Gwen collapsed to the mat.
1…
2…
3…
4…
5…

Gwen blinked several times, watching spots of light dancing in the darkness.

6…

It couldn’t end like this. It wouldn’t end like this.

7…

Gwen grabbed the edge of the cage, pulling herself to her feet. As she tried to shake the cobwebs out, Dawn lunged in with a knee. Gwen, however, wasn’t there when it landed. She sidestepped the blow and clotheslined Dawn to the ground. Screw style, Gwen thought to herself. Time to start the hurting.

She elbowed Dawn’s face, opening up a nasty gash above her left eye. Like a shark, Gwen attacked the bloody wound with quick, stiff right hands. Dawn managed to roll away, leaving a crimson trail on the mat. She made it to her knees when Gwen stomped her square in the chest, knocking her back down to the mat.

Blood was flowing freely now, puddling into Dawn’s eye and running down her face. Gwen came at her from her blind spot, kicking her hard in the ribs. Dawn clutched her ribs and spun, sweeping Gwen off her feet. Both women got to their feet at the same time, and Gwen moved in for the Unlucky Charm. Dawn ducked the elbow and slipped behind the Irish lass, grabbing her from behind and taking her over with a high angle German Suplex.

Gwen folded up upon impact, ending up in a half-slumped position against the cage. Dawn moved in and, grabbing the cage for leverage, drove her knee into Gwen’s head. Again. And again. And again. After several blows, she pressed her foot against Gwen’s head and tried to squeeze her face through the cage. Blood trickled down the twisted mesh as Gwen’s eyes bulged and the steel bit into her flesh.

Dawn kicked Gwen in the back, the smack heard in the uppermost seats of the arena. A few people close to the Asylum shouted out a “whooo”, and repeated it as Dawn followed the kick up with another one to the chest. Air rushed out of Gwen’s body, bolts of pain shooting the entire length of her body. Dawn thew another Dragon’s Tail shin kick to Gwen’s head, but this time Gwen managed to trap the leg and drive her elbow into Dawn’s knee.

Without releasing the leg, Gwen kicked Dawn’s other leg and dropped her to the mat. She stomped on Dawn’s knee and sat down on it, pulling her lower leg at a nasty and unnatural angle. Dawn twisted and punched Gwen in the back, trying to get her to relinquish the painful leg lock. With every blow to the back, Gwen continued to pull and twist the leg.

So focused was she on the leg in her hands, she forgot about Dawn’s other one. Dawn reminded her as she looped her leg over Gwen’s head and drove her heel into Gwen’s face. Gwen saw stars as she tumbled across the mat. Like a gory lawn sprinkler, blood sprayed off her face with every rotation. But before Gwen could recover, Dawn dove onto her and locked on a cobra clutch, scissoring Gwen’s thighs with her own.

Gwen struggled. For once, the crimson mask worked to her advantage as Dawn lost her grip on Gwen’s arm. Gwen sat up and began punching Dawn’s injured knee. Dawn released the body scissor , and she and Gwen stood up. Both women were bloody messes. Both women stared at each other, refusing to back down. The crowd felt the tension of the staredown, which was broken as Dawn charged forward.

Stumbled forward, as he knee gave out.

Fell forward, as Gwen quickly hammered her with uppercuts.

Collapsed, stunned from the blows.

Motionless, as Gwen stood over her and stomped down on her head with the Emerald Synthesis.

Two Emerald Syntheses.

One more Emerald Synthesis, just for good measure.

The match was over, with Gwen awarded the victory. She stumbled out of the Asylum and shuffled along the aisle. With the bitter taste of blood in her mouth, she snatched a plastic cup out of a fan’s hand. Gwen eyed the contents and shrugged. It certainly wasn’t soda pop, and that’s all that mattered right now. She turned back to the Asylum as Nord knelt down beside the motionless Dawn Van Dammage. Gwen raised the glass. “Cheers, lass.”

Gwen - 1

Dawn - 1

A large crowd was formed around the arena with tensions flaring. Cornelius' head remained on a swivel looking all over the place, was it a setup? Were they all going to come out of the crowd and jump him? He eyed the massive crowd of people around the building. Maybe they would come from the parking lot? His head took a sharp turn back to the lot, nothing.. to the other lot, nothing.. nothing.. nothing. Maybe they'll come running from across the street, from Veterans Stadium?

Carnage shot his head over the the place where the Phillies played earlier in the day, and he saw nothing again. He had no clue what was going on.

Swiftly, he turned around facing the camera, "What time is it?" The cameraman raised his arm obstructing the camera's view, as he read off the time, Carnage scratched at his goatee trying to think of what was happening. "They should fucking be here." He continued to move forward towards the home of the Flyers and Sixers, and he heard the unrest continue. The closer he moved, the more words he could decipher..

"fWo... 21w.. fuck... suck... wrestling... jobbers.. pissed...waste... traffic... Buckner... Super... bullshit..."

All the words meshed into awful sound, words bouncing back in forth in absolute chaos, no pattern to follow even deep into them. But whatever they were all talking about Cornelius Corteia knew that they weren't happy campers. With absolutely no clue what was going on, this was supposed to be 21w InFANity, but instead the insanity stayed, he watched as a few disgruntled fans past him full of dismay, certain to cause an accident the moment they get out on I-95. But then someone saw him.. and recognized him...

"Oh shit, it's Carnage!" Cornelius's eyes shot from left to right, from up to down, then he noticed others saw him as well. And all of a sudden, he didn't feel comfortable. He heard his fighting name echoed over and over again, as more people began to come his way in droves, slowly he backpeddled. He was here to disrupt a promotional event, after 21w cancelled Insinity, in favor of the 21w/tA PPV Immortals.. he was supposed to beat the shit out of 21w wrestlers, but no one was here..

No one but these crazy fans headed his direction.. and him.

His heart began to pace rapidly, as he turned and began to hightail it, the fans were promised a free event and autographs. They didn't care if it wasn't with a 21w wrestler, they just wanted an autograph. Many didn't even want to ponder how much Carnage's autograph would be worth on ebay, they didn't care, they just wanted it now, then later they could evaluate the value. His legs burned with the rapid pace he went, hardly enough strength remained as it continued to be sapped by his panic. Finally he got to the van they arrived in, he yanked at the door, but it wasn't opening. Finally with a grunt, and a strain and a yank he got it open. He hopped into the driver's side, slammed the door shut, and went for the ignition..

No key.. he scrambled into his pocket, and finally remember the cameraman drove. And as he looked out the window, he noticed the camera man was way back there submerged in the mass crowd of humanity. And they were coming, there was only one thing he could do.. lock the doors..

It was going to be a very long night.

As if hearing a cue, someone knocked on his door, and he responded with, "I'm fucking busy." Being the owner of a mainstream fighting promotion wasn't an easy job, after all. He sighed and pressed harder against his palm while they pounded away. "OK, do you not understand English? I'll put it easy for ya, leave me the fuck alone!"

Whoever was knocking did so once more but stopped midway, and then the door busted open with a disturbing creek of it swinging on the hinges. The wheels of his chair slid back as Eddie Cheno stampeded through the door.

With clenched fists, he bursted through the room and over to Joe, who waved for him to stop. Campbell's alarmed face lifted to a smile, and he placed his hand on Cheno's shouldar. Eddie froze and stared at someone he hated with all the hate he had.

"Eddie, Eddie, how's it been going?" Joe said as he flashed his teeth. This confused Cheno a great deal, but he was too furious right now.

"Wat da funk it be ta ya?"

"I'm just asking. It never can be too late to be nice to a person."

This trip was never supposed to be long. He wanted to get this done, he wanted to get the anger out of his system as fast as he could. Without wasting any more time, Cheno reached into his pocket and tossed a booklet to Campbell.

"Ya wanna funken bring 21w down in da funken ratings... tonight mang, I'm gonna bring dat shiznit home."

He picked it up and began to flip through it. His smile only lifted more as he skimmed over the pages. Cheno walked out of the office, while Joe read through "Historic Moments" that was tossed onto his desk. His hands rested on top of another booklet, entitled "Eddie Cheno," which rested on the corner of his desk.

Ricky Wasp Vs El Janito

Well, not for quite a few seconds. When El Janito finally exits, he's pushed halfway down the ramp by Beef The Slightly Annoyed. Steve The Rambling Communist merely just follows, as he likely should. Even though he's hidden completely in Beef's slightly annoying shadow.

Janito, seeing the cage, attempts to run away. Beef picks him up and tosses him in.

"YOU BLOODY WANKER!" Janito yells at Beef. "Are you trying to get me killed, you shirtlifter?"
Before he can hurl any other obscenties at Beef, there's the sudden sound of bass, which rumbles all over the building.

And out comes Ricky Wasp, all 6'9" of him. Looking mighty pissed, too. His father's right beside him, guiding him down to the Asylum, yelling messages of hate and deceit into his ear. Ricky goes up the steps, jumps, and clears the four-foot high cage wall like nothing.

All within about twenty seconds. His entrance seemed like that of a boxer ready for a title bout, whilst Janito's was like... well... Janito's.

Janito looked up at this monster.

And he freaked.

"I bettah get double bubble for this," he screamed as he ran around the wall of the cage, knowing distance would probably be best in a situation like this.

It took Wasp three lunging steps before he had Janito by the throat. He picked up the Mexican with a British mouth and tossed him halfway across the cage, slamming his shoulder against the mat. Janito rolled up against the mesh.

"Aw, you sausage jockey! That bleedin' hurt!" Janito told him. Wasp wasn't listening. He was coming towards him, quickly.

Now, Janito might be dumb, really dumb -- let's look at the fact he hangs around with a big guy with a bad hair problem, a midget communist who speaks one word, a dead zombified sack of suck, and a talking box -- but he knows what's the difference between saving your ass and letting it get turned into a Sir Anthony Blunt.

Not that it would matter. The moment he began to get away, Wasp merely had to put his foot down on Janito's cape, and the Mexican Stereotype's body flailed into the air, with his legs landing on top of the cage and the rest of his body tumbling awkwardly onto the mat.

"OH, BOLLOCKS!" Janito yelled.

Wasp stepped forward, off the cape, and brought a knee into Janito's temple. And did it again, and again.

Some of the obscenities hurled during this moment:
"My sweets!"

"You limp-wristed tool! That was my thrupenny bits!"

"Beef! I'm in queer street! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALP~!"

As this beating went on, Beef turned to Steve The Rambling Communist. "What should I do, Steve? Should I help? Should I stay?"

"AIEEEEE!"

That was Janito, as Wasp picked him up and spun him around, before tossing him down on the mat.

"STAY." Steve concretely said.

"Good idea. I could go for ice cream, though..."

"I've got ice cream, you iron hoofer!"

"BULLSHITTER." Steve said.

"Love a duck!" Janito screamed, as Wasp went after him again. This time, though, Janito went the best route he could: He swiftly sent his arm between the thighs of Ricky Wasp, and as the Alabama boy keeled over, Janito ran to the side of the cage, near Beef and Steve.

"You help me, I'll give you ice cream!" Janito pleaded.

"Steve said you were a bullshitter, though."

"YES." Steve added.

"You bloody wankers. BLOODY HELL!"

Wasp had grabbed Janito again. This time, by the throat, and he lifted him high up in the air.

"I SWEAR I'LL GET YOU YOUR BLOODY ICE CREAM!"

"I want chocolate."

"I DON'T CARE IF YOU WANT BLOODY BANANA-LIBERACE-FUDGE! JUST HELP ME!" Janito screamed.

"Okay." Beef got into the Asylum, and was met with a flying Janito. Within seconds, the two of them were outside the Asylum, rolled together like a bunch of elastics. Steve looked at this, and turned to the towering Wasp.

He growled. Like this:
"GRRR."

"KEEP ON WITH THEM, SON!" Richard Williams yelled from his side of the cage. "It ain't over yet!"

Wasp got out of the Asylum, walked down to the two members of Mega Job, and picked them both up. "Pa says... I should hurt you two more." He said, grunting as he picked them onto their knees. He rapped their heads together. Twice. Three times. And he let them fall to the ground.

Somewhere, you could bet Joe Campbell was counting out a large bonus for Ricky Wasp and his father.

On one side of the desk sat Joe, looking a little concerned at the moment.

On the other side sat Providence, looking as angry as he ever has.

“I promise you, Joe, I will not let that bastard run around here for much longer. After what he did at the PPV…after the way he embarrassed me…he’ll be lucky if he’s still able to walk by the end of the month,” Providence said, clutching his Extreme Title hard to his chest.

“That’s good, Darren, because you are one of the few I can trust right now. Out of all the fighters in the Asylum…all the fighters who have joined forces with me in the past…you are the one I feel I can trust to get the job done,” Joe said as he looked into Providence’s eyes. “You’ve served me very well since coming to the Asylum, and I know that you will continue to do so in the future.”

“I certainly will, Joe,” Providence said with a nod. “I certainly will.”

With that, Joe stood up from his seat and walked towards the door. “Unfortunately, I have some other matters to attend to right now,” he said as he paused at the door. “Get the job done, Darren. Get the job done.”

As Joe opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, Providence clutched the Extreme Title tighter and thought more about Steve Christ and what he had done last week at Everything Or Nothing…

The Light.

The attack.

The embarrassment.

All of those thoughts ran through his mind at breakneck speed, as Providence kept replaying the past week over and over in his mind. Finally, Providence snapped, tossing his chair against the wall and smashing a large mirror in the process. After breathing heavily for a few moments, Providence slowly walked to the door and left the room.

"Eddie," Cameraman Mark let out a sigh, without a camera too, so his name really makes no sense at the moment. "I don't know how many times you've been dropped on your head to think you're a king of Poland, but whatever the case, this is a little bit too far." Mark sighed. "Although there isn't any threats of doing innately random things like there was in LoW."

"Be thinkin' of the good yo. It's all good!" Poser stopped in his tracks. "Does that mean I should think of everything?" Poser shrugged. "Whatever."

"Also, do you have ANYTHING else in that jukebox? I'm sick of that beat."

"Jukebox? Man, this be a BOOM box yo! You gotta get with the times there Marky Mark." Poser started to do the worm, bouncing on one foot around in a circle before he was met with two security guards. Immediately, he lowered his head as the two men grabbed him underneath his arm pits and drug him out of the arena. Poser kicked and screamed like a child throwing a tantrum on the way out. "HEY MARKY MARK! GET MY BOOM BOX!" Poser called out. "WE CAN LISTEN TO IT ON THE WAY HOME YO!"

Poser was thrown out of the back door, as Cameraman Mark took a look at the boom box playing that incessantly continuing beat. Mark picked up the boom box and shattered it against the wall, dusting his hands as he quietly followed his "Fighter" out of the arena.

“Aye, come in,” Gwen said, “it’s unlocked.”

A man dressed in a UPS uniform stepped through the door. He was a large, muscular man...perhaps from carrying all those packages. He had a package under his arm.

“Miss Gwen O’Reilly?”

Gwen nodded. The man left the package at her feet, and after thanking her, he left. Gwen finished lacing her boots, then picked the package up into her lap. She ripped it open and was delighted with its’ contents. Four bottles of Popov Vodka.

She smiled as she pulled the envelope up from its hiding place amongst the packing popcorn. The envelope had her name on it, she opened it and read silently:

I watched you kill a man,
I saw it all,
I watch all that you do,
I will watch you fall,

There was no name. Gwen frowned after reading the pitiful poetry.

She stood and hustled over to the door. She wanted to ask the delivery man who had sent this...but he was out of sight.

Gwen sighed, and went back in her locker room, locking the door behind her.

It didn't matter right now, all that mattered to him was finally digging the grave. For the last time, and hopefully it wouldn't come back from the dead. He caught the microphone in one motion, then spoke grimly,but with a burning anger in his throat, "You know. This is kind of getting funken repetitive."

"I be placin' my funken trust in a bitch and every funken time I get da funken knife in da back. I don't funken know if can, nah mang, I funken won't be trustin' any funken else. But mang, after dat shiznit, I gotsa do somethin' or else I be gonna burst."

Eddie paced around, gripping his pockets and then letting go. He shook his head and went on.

"I funken thought dat bitch needed someone. Well mang, all dat little funken skank needed be dat funken title, pissin' on wateva coulda been mang. Like dat funken piece o shit be worth more dan a friendship mang. But I shoulda funken known by now." Cheno sighed, before continuing. "Ya funken stole dat piece of sheet metal from my funken hands, but worse o funken all wo-mang, ya ain't never be sayin' thanks. Funk ya for never funken givin' me a funken thank you for funken savin' ya life. I ain't be wantin' funken diamonds or funken money, just a funken thanks and maybe a funken friend, but hell if dat shiznit's ever gonna be happenin' mang. So Carson, we got some scores ta funken settle it, and I'd like ta funken do it face ta funken face." Cheno let out a deep breath.

"Bitch."

Hit "The Blood. The Sweat. The Tears." by Machine Head. The ecstatic UK Champion emerged from the back, boasting about her win by holding the title high in the air. Holding it out in all glory, she waited for the boos and then brought her arms down. Then she looked toward Eddie in the ring, and her emotion was quick to change.

In fact, she looked a little troubled now. Eddie stood still in the cage, waiting for some type of answer. Carson walked the rest of the way to the cage and then got in. Both stalked each as she was tossed a microphone.

But the microphone never got to her. It was knocked halfway across the cage. Nicole was shocked, but even more surprised when Eddie pulled out a gun in one swift movement. A couple seconds ago, she was celebrating but all she had now was a barrel lined up with her brain. The same one that had been pointed at Joe Campbell just a few months back.

Eddie pressed the cold metal to her head. She slumped to the mat and tried to persuade him not to shoot. His finger ran along the trigger two times. "Why da funk not?" he said while he thrusted, pushing Nicole to her elbows.

She choked while she mumbled, "One good reason, is that I want to thank you. I'm so sorry for not telling you. I fucked up OK? I was so confused, please understand."

"Wat I funken know be dat I got dis funken powerful metal in my funken hands, and now ya wanna tell me all i funken wanna hear. Ya better come up wit a better excuse dan being funked, cuz I be dat way twenty funken seven."

"Eddie, I didn't mean to hurt you! I never thought that it would. I wasn't thinking."

"Never funken thought? Listen wo-mang, did ya twist da funken knife?" He paused as Carson took a deep breath in. Cheno cocked the gun as it pressed against her skull.

"No, I swear I didn't! Just put down the gun. I wanted there to be something. I tell you what, if you pull away and don't do anything...then I will give you the UK title, because I would rather have a friend than a piece of metal."

Eddie began to draw back, but then he put more pressure on her forehead. "Dis shiznit ain't be bout da funken title anymore wo-mang. And I ain't be funken dat gullible mang." Then he turned to the crowd and held the gun high in the air. "If ya wanted ta funken die Nicole, and I wanted ta funken die, funk wo-mang, let's go out in funken style. Inside da funken cage. We be havin' one of them gun fig-"

He would never finish. Carson grabbed him by the wrist, and pulled him into a hammerlock while confused and shocked, he struggled. He tried to reach for the gun but he was drove to the mat. The gun bounced off the mat and landed not far away, but too far away for him to grab it.

She let go of the hold and pounced on the opportunity of the gun. She sprung the hatch, disbursing the bullets before she slipped it into her belt and looked down at the frozen Cheno. He looked trapped under ice...pounding away at it with no hope. It was all surreal to him.

She bashed him in the face with a boot. His head leaned back with his eyes pointed to the sky.
"I'm sorry."

"Come in." Joe said from behind the door sound chirper than usual. I stepped in and he looked quite surprised...."Erm-EH? Villam? Where have you been? You have returned any of my messages and I think Rave call me with something about marriage? Why in the bloody hell don't you have that worked out yet?"

I didn't care for small talk.

"I want another deathmatch. With Rave. At the PPV."

"WHAT? No. No. No. No. Fuck no."

Confusing.

"What the hell do you mean "No."?

"No more deathmatches. Period. They are too much of a hassle. While someone always dies, it's never one of the opponents. Recent polls from marketing have shown that that little fact has started to annoy the Asylum crowd."

Very well. I don't need a deathmatch to kill Rave. This will just make this more of an open and shut case now.

"Fine. An extreme match then."

"Now, that I can do."

"Fine. Bye." I turned my back and took my leave...

"Um, Villam....."

"What?" I spat over my shoulder...

"Is...something wrong?"

"No. Nothing at all. Just a match with Rave. No big deal."

The peaceful scene was interrupted by the sound of a slowly opening door. Campbell swung his feet off the desk and placed his arms at the front of his desk, awaiting the arrival of whoever it may be. With a smile, Forestrial Ciprini stuck his head in through the crack in the door and peered in, fortunately... he'd missed Villam Ender by what could only have been seconds, Joe breathed a sigh of relief... he'd evaded trouble for once. Previously, the man’s presence was something to be worried about, but it no longer held the same bearing it once did. Campbell motioned toward Forestrial to enter, and the man complied. He took a seat in a small wooden chair opposite Joe Campbell and coughed.

“Hello, Joe. How is your day going thus far?” Forestrial asked in an attempt at idle chit-chat.
Joe sighed. “Out with it, RAVE. I’m not in the mood for your company right now.”

Forestrial’s face contorted into a look of confusion. A small grin creaked across the rustic face of Campbell as he tossed the beer can against the wall. Like always, Forestrial would suppress his true feelings and allow himself to be walked over. “I was just wondering if you would happen to know where Villam Ender is at this very moment, that’s all.”

With a sigh, Joe reached into his desk and tossed a crumpled-up piece of paper in Forestrial’s directed. It bounced off his chest and into his lap, where he picked it up and unfolded it slowly.

“That’s a match schedule. If you'd care to glance at it once in a while, you'd see that finding Villam won't be a problem for you, considering that he's requested a match with you at the PPV. So, if you want to catch him, I suppose you'll have all the time in the world at seVered.”

Forestrial nodded, and as quick as he came, he left. Campbell returned his feet at their station above the desk and reached into a nearby refrigerator, pulling out one more beer. The night was young.

LLB vs Inmate

"I Disappear" by Metallica quickly replaced Static-X as the mood changed quickly from loving support to half asses who didn’t know whether to hate the guy or love him. For this time, the Asylum Champion received mostly boos as he climbed over the cage mesh he refused to give his belt to the ref and laid it in the side.

LLB’s eye twitched as he looked at it. His dreams were in that giant piece of Gold and it was beckoning him. Calling him…but did he know what happens to all the champions who carry that cursed title? It was a common trait to go…

Fucking Insane.

As the bell rung Inmate and LLB stalked each other as they circled the cage. It wasn’t the first time that these two were meeting, they knew each other well enough to know what each other were thinking. As LLB inched in closer he threw a hard right jab however Inmate ducked, throwing a left and a right in the gut-

However LLB sucked it up and grabbed Inmate’s head. Jumping up and knocking Inmate in the side of the bridge of the nose, dropping LLB back onto his back. Inmate opened his eyes and shook the dizziness from his head as he quickly rolled out of the way from LLB’s lined up soccer kick aimed for his head.

LLB chased him as Inmate tried to quickly get on his feet. He grabbed Inmate, locking him up in a DDT-like position and rammed him backwards into the cage head first. Repeating it again and again before Inmate became raged, lifting him up and slamming him down with a spinebuster.
After a few quick swift kicks to his side, Inmate picked him up and returned the favor by spinning LLB around and throwing him head first into the Asylum rim, as LLB’s head knocked off the rim Inmate locked him up for a solid belly to belly suplex.

As LLB’s body bounced off the mat, Inmate quickly went to work locking in Snap. As LLB screamed in pain, Inmate increased the leverage making it ever-so-more painful.
“Give-the-fuck-up,” Inmate screamed as he pulled back more after every word.

REVERSAL!

LLB grabs Inmate’s ankles and pulls him back, locking in both legs for a boston crab of his own. LLB kept pulling back until Inmate’s back was in a disgusting figure.

Tyler Burton couldn’t lose. He wouldn’t allow it.

With a shout of adrenaline, a growl from the champion as he punches the ground with both hands pushing his legs downwards. LLB’s strength couldn’t hold it, as it flipped him over. Both men quickly got up and LLB ran, thundering down a straight line with his eyes set-

ERRONOUS CONCLUSION!

With LLB’s shoulder spearing Inmate straight in his gut. Inmate’s adrenaline rush stopped and the spear dropped him slowly down to his knees as he gasped for air before dropping. The ref counted…

1…

2…

3…

A few seconds later Inmate was getting up. He looked around to only see blurriness and stood up to a lightheaded feeling. He shook it and heard what he didn’t expect.

Boos?

Why would they boo?

Inmate shook his head and his vision became straight again. He looked at LLB and everyone around staring at one direction, the entrance. Inmate turned his head and couldn’t believe what he saw.
…
…
…
…
…

21st Century Wrestling?

Roars of hatred were barely out matching the roars of determination and adrenaline flowing through the invading wrestlers. Right next to J.P.P at the announcer’s table hopped out two of the most respected 21w superstars…

“The British Lions?~!” J.P.P screamed.
Gasp as more ran in.

NINJA K!
MASAFUMI SATAKE!
NEIL GARRATT!
Tyke, and Coby Wright . Inmate looked back across at LLB and if only for one moment the two men shared the same thought pattern, they walked towards the cage rim ready to attack the former 21w tag champs, as they taunted them. But something impeded their progress..

SMACK!

Inmate toppled to the ground as the crowd continued to boo, instinctively LLB turned to see who was the assailant and he two was cracked hard by a steel chair shot straight onto the cranium. The Law crumpled to the mat as this invader thrust the chair down hard just missing LLB's head. The camera slowly focused as the man raised his hand in the air, and the crowd booed unmercifully, there stood a man who held much resentment towards the Asylum. With his hand raised in the air the arena shook as the nosebleed section finally saw the face of the one leading the attack…

Biggs Dangsta!

Trash began to fly down towards the ring area, as Biggs and the other wrestlers began to stomp on Inmate and LLB. Biggs dropped the chair and breathed heavily, look outwards the entrance way. The rush was tremendous it was as if there was a mental connection that night between each 21w superstar in that Asylum cage.

“REINFORCEMENTS!” J.P.P screamed from his commentator spot as he saw Eddie Cheno, ‘Hypnotic’ Ty Hughes and Providence quickly running down the rampway. While Garratt and Ninja K made sure LLB and Inmate were still down, in unison the British Lions, Masafumi Satake and Biggs stood outnumbering the three.

As they hopped over the four swarmed like bee’s defending their hive. The Asylum was their hive now…it was THEIRS for that moment that they took it over. No one was going to take it back until they were damn willing to throw it back like the piece of garbage they thought it was.

As quickly as all three men hopped into the cage, was as quick as the fist were that connected across their jaws. Eddie Cheno was the first to drop as Tyke ducks a wild clothesline to have Biggs there to clean him up with the “Love the Hate” knocking Eddie down with his head knocking into the rim.

Ty Hughes and Providence helped their own more as Eddie was what seemed to be bait. They ran over kicking off Garratt and Ninja K only to be crowded in a frenzy of fist and kicks from every direction. Coby grabbed Hughes as Garratt held Providence-

CRACK!

Across each of their faces.

SMACK!

Both Asylum stars were on a knee.

THUMP!

was the sound as they dropped to the mat beside Inmate and LLB. The 21w stars coaxed for more as they waited in the center of cage, the screams were loudening throughout the arena that night as the Asylum fans wanted retribution for their superstars that were demolished. Then a sigh of relief as the fans screamed for any type of savior, as a single man stepped out from the back they hopped it would come.

“Rave Caprino?” the leader of the 21w invasion mouthed out.
Forestrial Cirpini was what stepped out and walked downward towards the Asylum. Everyone stood ready to fight, however he looked less willing. Cirpini jumped in with both hands up.

“Stop the fighting,” he said. Biggs walked up to him and looked down at the shorter Cirpini with eyes of fire. He pushes him and Cirpini shakes his head unwillingly.

SLAP!

Biggs backhands Cirpini. “I refuse to fight,” he said. Biggs had enough, he grabs Cirpini’s shoulder’s and throws him to the center of the ring where Tyke was ready-

CRACK!

TYKE SHOT~! As Cirpini stumbled back Biggs slapped his hand around his neck lifting him up for a Westside Sunset!

Finally 21w's Millenium champion had enough. He ordered Masafumi Satake and Ninja K to head up to the rampway to prevent the fighters from making their way down to the cage. As the two Japanese fighters ran up the ramp for battle they stood ready at the side of the entrance, ready to ambush.

The first victim: Avo Chavez.
As he stepped out from the back, he looked around scratching his head. “Hey what’s going on here-"

SMACK!

Avo quickly stumbled forward as Ninja K kicks him in the back. He turns over onto to have Masafumi gripping the back of his head and jumping up, cracking him in the nose with his forearm and throwing him forward into Ninja K’s vicious soccer kick. Soon after came an aging pimp named Booty who was rolling up his sleeves ready to rumble. Ninja K snap-kicked his knee, collapsing him forward to a Masafumi spinning heel kick which Booty blocked as he fell forward.

CRACK!

Booty screamed in pain as he held his limping arm on the ground. “It’s broken! It’s broken!” he screamed. Masafumi felt bad at first, but this is war. Lotus had heard the screams and ran out to help her manager. Ninja K attempted an ambushing sweep kick as she ran out but she hopped over continuing her pace towards the back-turned Masafumi and Booty however as she got closer Masafumi quickly turned around throwing an elbow and a quick combo that Lotus blocked.
As she held his arms, she looked at his face and gasped only to get the same reaction from Masafumi as he stared back. She released her grip and the two backed up two steps with jaw dropped staring.

“Watch out!” Masafumi screamed as he jumped pushing Lotus out of the way from Ninja K who snuck behind her, barely missing a jumping 360 spin heel kick. As Lotus slid across the platform, she looked at Masafumi who almost got nailed by Ninja K. Masafumi wouldn’t stop staring as Lotus backed up one step, then turned around fully running to the back.

Ninja K shook Masafumi as snapped out of his dazed state.

Meanwhile Inside the cage, it was a field day. Whoever regained consciousness was now in a hopeless one against two situation as when they stood up, two superstars were there to take their turn in teaching Asylumers a lesson.

When it seemed over, everyone was quiet. Bodies riddled all over the floor, each invasion member pulled them, laying them around the Asylum cage like Borst and the Asylum invaders did. Biggs stepped over and picked up a title that laid near Inmate.

The Asylum Championship.

As he lifted it off the ground Inmate’s hand went up almost to grab it. Biggs looked at himself in the reflection, with Ninja K, Masafumi Satake, Garratt and the British Lions looking on. They stepped out of the way as Biggs leaned over the Asylum cage hoisting the title high over his head roaring like a monster as the fans booed loudly.

Then he hopped down, taking a mic that Tyke had ready for him. Biggs held the Asylum Championship by his side as he spoke, “July 26th, 2001. Asylum invades 21wrestling…21wrestling closes.” He pauses as he says it. He looks around at each of his companions who were like blood to him now. “August 4th, 2002. 21wrestling invades Asylum…21wrestling gets retribution.”

The fans booed loudly. “This is a message to you Joe. Next month 21wrestling will prove who is truly…Immortal.”

With the final word Biggs spits on the title and throws it on Inmate. The six men, together in unison represented 21wrestling that night…and as they raised their hands in the air in unison it represented 21wrestling’s readiness, eagerness and thirst…
for war…