the Asylum

the Asylum | Events | Sunday Show Results

HSBC Arena , Buffalo, New York. (6th January 2002)

And so it was Sunday at last, the day that would herald that which had been on the lips of people across the globe, Asylum fans or not.

Several months ago, a then Asylum champion, Borst… was killed, there was no denying the fact, his death had been captured on tape, autopsy images released across the internet, images of his grave… Borst was dead, gone… and even thought doubters existed as always, people had started to accept the fact.

But it seems to be an age old tradition, that when you choose to accept something, it turns out that the doubt that had been lingering in you’re mind and itching behind you’re eyeballs, had been true afterall.

One week ago, Borst returned to Asylum’s weekly Sunday “TNN” show, in shocking fashion, attacking the owner Joe Campbell, since then… several clips of footage involving the supposedly dead Borst had been aired across the internet, each and every pointing towards the same conclusion.

The answers would arrive on Sunday.

However, the answers didn’t, the Sunday show had taken place days prior to the tapings which would follow, Monday had rolled by with the Asylum website disappearing under mysterious circumstances later on Sunday night, perhaps the answers were set to remain buried with Borst after all?

Not a chance.

However, they might remain with him forever, if what Joe Campbell had to say, held any truth.

“Voices” by Disturbed kicked off the Asylum show, the fans didn’t particularly like this song anymore, mainly because of Joe Campbell’s insistence in plugging, shilling and generally giving it as much exposure as possible for his own good, it also, usually… mean he was about to make an appearance.

Low and behold, he did.

Joe appeared from behind the curtain, somewhat surprisingly wearing a Token Weed t-shirt, available for purchase right this second at the Shitezone. What this meant was still to be revealed, as he strutted down to the Asylum like a peacock, proudly displaying his feathers for all to see, after picking up a microphone, he gave it a few irritating taps before coughing elaborately, and addressing the fans.

“Hi wankers, how’s it going?” Joe began, before shielding his face as several items of junk flew from the crowd in his direction, he plugged his ears for a second to silence the heated response that the crowd had to offer.

“Today, I am wearing my Token Weed shitezone t-shirt, and for it… I feel a better person, its true… I never liked Token Weed, for he is a twat… but the profits his shirts bring are grate, especially because he makes no money out of it, so I suppose I can’t complain… but yes, this is a shirt, you too can wear one like this, and look as cool as I do, they’re available at you’re nearest stand, or direct through the Asylum website, cotton beefy or something, but yep… I honestly feel like this shirt has brought something else to my life… I would urge you all to go out abd buy one this second, and while you do, be sure to check out the wide variety if TNN shirts we have available, for TNN surely are the gods of television broadcasting, without them… there would be no Sunday show, and no Asylum, thankyou TNN… and thankyou Disturbed, without the music you bring us every week, we would surely go blind.”

Joe stopped, he had to catch his breath amongst other things, avoiding pure hatred was another, being the walking talking advertisement didn’t come across well.

“Well, you all put money in my pocket by paying for the show tonight, so I should announce some matches, feck it… I think I’ll go right off the top of my head, mainly because I don’t want to be here… and could probably be somewhere else making money, so lets see… who do I despise?” Joe stopped, the crowd hitting him with more boos.

“Welp, I can book you fuckwits, so we’ll start with the next best thing. “Mr. Wrestler” Hypnosis… and since wrestling would appear to be his forte, we shall book him as a wrestler, basing the booking on his talents alone, he can be the first match on the card, because he’s rubbish… and he can fight Sterling Silver, an actor who occasionally wrestles, should be interesting.” Joe finished again, embracing the hate.

“Yep, and then I think we’ll have some sort of team match… I think Nerva might have asked to about it earlier, but alas… the words of a whore are hard to take in, therefore we’ll have to see what happens with that… what else? Well… as much as I dig this great, affordably priced Token Weed shirt, I don’t happen to like Token Weed very much, therefore… he’ll be in a handicap match, no… he is not the handicap, mentally perhaps but, his handicap tonight will come in the form of MUD and Carnage, who currently have no Shitezone merchandise, and for the said reasons, will not be plugged on this show.” Joe said with a wry smile, more booing from the crowd.

“Shortly after that, two wrestling shitfaces, take on two of me’ finest boys, Disable… I mean, “Dissidant” get to face Archangel and Inmate again, and apparently… thanks to Mike Bear’s contract, if of course, you refer to using torture to get signed as that, I can’t be at Asylumside, nor can I have any influence on this one, such a shame… looks like I’ll have to watch from my personal seating area up there in row Z, amongst you filthy gits!” Joe said, more boos exploding.

“Right, that’s the crappy show sorted, well… I suppose you want answers about Borst?”

Huge explosion of cheers from the crowd, speak for themselves.

“Borst… is… fucking… DEAD… DEAD DEAD DEAD, HE IS FUCKING DEAD, STONE COLD NOT AUSTIN, BUT DEAD… EXPIRED, WASTED… WORM FOOD, THE CUNT IS DEAD… D E A D” Joe snarled, looking almost furious.

“You fucking idiots, well… I suppose I should be thanking you nobheads, considering that you watching and believing something that happened SIX MONTHS AGO! Sent the Asylum ratings right up past the fWo’s!” Joe said with another grin, so… he lied, that bloody “The News” site could make up stuff as much as they liked, Asylum was the best show in Joe’s eyes.

“Yep, six months ago you idiots, did you ever take into account that I’m actually NOT that stupid? So my world champion dies on me, obviously I’m going to set up some form of compensation for that, and it was all elementary, just tape a few vignette’s with Borst before he died, and re-use them any time I needed to bolster ratings, genius… GENIUS!” Joe said, holding back the laughter as the crowd booed insanely.

“So there you have it, I booked some matches, I once again buried you’re anti hero… and now, I’m going to give you a whole TEN minutes of “Voices” by Disturbed… and don’t forget… BUY A FUCKING TSHIRT.

Ahem, thanks again TNN, we all love you.” Joe said with a hint of glee in his voice, hopping out of the Asylum and making his way backstage for the night.

The waiting game.

Drax: I dont get it. You've had plans for the TV title for months now, and after you lose one fight to Hypnosis you give up?

Synn: I didnt expect you to understand, nor to question my actions... but believe this. I do not need to chase him, for he will come to me, sooner than you'd expect.

So it was written, so it shall come to pass.

Selling his soul: Part I

A yellow taxi pulled up to the arena, as a man in a hooded sweater got out, pulled a bag after him and ran into the arena. He dropped the bag as some dull black metal object fell out. The man picked it up before looking around. He had the air of the hunted.

The heightened senses, the constant looking over the shoulder, the paranoia.

Except it wasn’t paranoia.

There really was someone out to end this man’s pitiful existence on this planet.

The hooded man ran into the arena.

Mask of innocence.

Token Weed could be seen, slowly walking through the halls of the backstage. In his left hand was a small Polaroid camera, in his right hand sat another smaller hand. The hand of Token's newest acquisition, Sarah Creid. She walked beside Token, smiling brightly looking around the hallways. Her face almost glowed with warmth, with happiness, while the figure beside her seemed pale and gray. Token began looking to the sides of the hallway, looking for something.

Token walked past a doorway, with a do not disturb sign. Token grinned looking at it and uttered some words under his breath.

"Angel Daulton, sucks to be him," Token said, letting the words float into the air. Sarah looked up at Token, and smiled a brief smile.

"Sean, is he your friend," Sarah said looking at Token; she wouldn't call him dad or daddy. Why? Because he really wasn't her dad.

"No not really Sarah, but I feel a bit sorry for him, he's been having a tough time as of late," Token said looking to the side and smiling away from Sarah not letting her see it. He continued looking up on the wall, walking half way down the hallway before opening a door.

"Here we are, this is my friend's locker room, he said he wanted to see a picture of us together before he got here," Token said smiling. Oh the evil deeds of this man, now he'd taunt a juggernaut with a picture of his daughter and him standing side by side.

"He started it," Token said softly as Sarah looked at him confused.

"What?" she asked, looking up at Token. Token just smiled in return before saying something. "Nothing honey, just saying I'm glad to have you as my daughter," Token said as he placed the camera on a table. He pressed a few buttons starting a timer of sorts, Token then invited little Sarah to sit on his lap for the picture. She ran over and hopped up onto it, she smiled as Token did the same. The camera gave a brief flash and began to push the picture out through the opening in the camera.

Token walked over and grabbed it, pulling it out and waving it around for a moment, trying to get it to develop faster. Token looked at it, he handed it to Sarah who smiled as she looked at it. Token put out his hand as Sarah handed the picture back to him. He put it in the top right hand corner of a mirror in the room and walked away.

Token Weed and little Sarah Creid hand in hand.

Selling his soul: Part II

Hypnosis sat back, the hooded sweater on the floor, the bag next to it.

He’d been running. Running since the day Carnage started attacking him, but still nothing had become any clearer. He had beaten Synn… but in doing so, had he cut off any chance of himself surviving.

Hypnosis felt the situation crashing down around him. Everywhere he looked he saw Carnage lurking in the corners, he saw the twisted smile when he closed his eyes, he felt the knife blade on his neck.

He had no alternative.

He would have to make a deal with the devil.

Getting Personal.

Joe Campbell’s office was quite different than it had been in previous weeks. The tope walls, a big screen television, three leather recliners, far more extravagant than it had used to be. On the table, a twelve-pack of Budweiser beer sat on the oak finished coffee table that stood in front of the recliners. The middle chair was empty, while two men in business suits filled the two on the side.

“Fuck off, I’m busy,” Joe whispered into the phone. The two men turned their heads and glanced at Joe, who replied with a nervous smile as he placed the phone down on the hook.

“Sorry, it was a business call.”

The two businessmen nodded and grabbed one of the Budweisers from the table. The bitter liquid poured down their throat as they leaned back in their chairs and watched Sunday Show, which was currently in progress.

“Joe, I hope you’re grateful that a large company, such as Budweiser, is willing to take a risk on such a…violent and politically incorrect client. Luckily, our demographic actually prefers these types of shows, so you’ll find a pretty little penny in your pocket if everything goes smoothly tonight.”

Joe grinned and walked over to his chair before taking a seat. A match between ArchAngel and Bear versus Dissidant had just finished, causing Joe to stare at the television in delight.

“This is it,” Joe said. “Your commercial should air after this match.”

Little did Joe know that “should” was the fitting word. The fact was that the commercial wasn’t going to air. As the camera cut, a handwritten sign on white poster board read, “Technical Fucking Difficulties” in black, thick jagged handwriting. Joe’s chin sunk down into his chest as he sulked. Things weren’t looking good.

The sign was pulled away by whomever was holding it, revealing a shadowed figure. The man had a small burlap sack placed over his head, the coarse fabric scratching his skin. The rope that tied this sack around his head was tightened around his neck, almost to the point of choking him. A pair of metallic handcuffs kept his hands behind the chair. Bound to the legs of the chair, his legs were tied, thus restricting all movement.

The camera slowly moved upward on an angle. The first glimpse of human life was the toned stomach of a white, pale-skinned man. Of course, this would normally not give any hint as to who the man was, but the tattoo scrawled on an arc over his naval not only hinted, but also gave it all away

“Fucked”

Joe shot up from his chair as the camera made it’s way up, now only displaying the face of the man. It was the menacing smile of Rave Caprino. The mocking grin of the man Joe had fired a few weeks ago.

“Anything is possible, Joey. You fire me, I bound and gag a technician of yours and take control over this show. It’s a pretty fair trade if you ask me, right? Now, here’s what I’m trying to get at. I know there’s two men sitting in your room. I know that they are potential sponsors. I also know they are from Budweiser. I also know you’re now on the brink of crying.

“Oh, make sure to wave to the camera in the corner, by the way.”

Sure enough, as Joe turned his head, the blinking red light of the camera assured Joe that Rave could see his every move.

“Now, you might not want to try to call security or anything, because we don’t want me to come into the arena and beat the shit out of you like I did last week, now do we? I’m not that far from your office, Campbell. The second you stand up from that chair, I’ll have your fucking head on a stick. There’s plenty of people that’d like for me to parade that little image around the Asylum arena.

“So, I want you to sit down and listen. I want you to sit down, sip your shit beer, and listen. Did you actually think that you were going to get rid of me? Did you actually think that just by firing me, you’d get me out of your way? Sorry, Joe, but shit doesn’t always work out the way you want it to.

“You live your life, born into a rich family. You kill an old man just to get your grubby little hands on his promotion. Oh, shit, don’t wet yourself in front of those executives. They won’t respect you anymore. Yeah, I know, you’re wondering how I know all of this, Joe. How could Rave Caprino possibly know?

“You should probably shred that letter, Joe. That’s almost incriminating.

“There is no statute of limitations on murder.”

And with that, the camera cut to a commercial for “Girls Gone Wild”.

The two executives sitting next to Joe stood up and walked away. Joe looked over to the locked metal file cabinet with uncertainty.

Selling his soul: Part III

Hypnosis knocked on the locker room door.

He burst in, not waiting for a reply, as he had one thing on his mind.

“You’ve gotta help me. Carnage is gonna kill me, and I cant stop him… I don’t even know why he’s doing it.”

“Why me?”

“You understand him more than anyone else. You’ve been inside his head.”

“And what do I gain out of this… deal?”

“Anything you want.”

“Then yes. I’ll help you out.”

Hypnosis left without a thank you… he felt like he’d just sold his soul.

“So it was written… so it shall come to pass” muttered Synn from inside the locker room. Apparently, things had only just begun.

Hypnosis(c) Vs Sterling Silver

“Silver” by Moist, and the boos the accompanied it.

Sterling Silver made his way down to the Asylum, blinding the fans in attendance in true Hollywood stule, gleaming Silver attire, pearly white teeth and bleach blonde hair, what on earth was he doing in the Asylum?

Believe it or not, Silver could actually fight, he’d proven it for months now, and eventually… he’d step up and win a key match, this was surely a chance, a recently indifferent T.V. Champion Hypnosis, a little worse for wear as of late.

Hypnosis had problems, stalked by his hate driven assailant Carnage, Hypnosis had stooped to the level of seeking the help of one of his other arch enemies, Synn… this was excluding the fact that his recent actions had infuriated Joe Campbell, signing for a wrestling promotion was the ultimate slap across Joe’s face, and Hypnosis would surely be punished.

As “Won’t lie down” hit the arena, the question couldn’t have been more evident, would he? Hypnosis wasn’t himself, as he was going up against a man in Sterling Silver, who had slowly been clambering the Asylum ladder at a steady rate, and Hypnosis’ mental state was quickly taken advantage of.

Hypnosis committed the first mortal sin, turning his back on Silver to hand the referee the title, Silver acknowledged this politely by sending a swift and vicious boot to Hypnosis’ groin, quickly snatching a handful of his hair and driving his face into the Asylum rim with intent, the effect was elementary, Hypnosis’ nose popping in a shower of blood as he fell back comatose already into the center of the Asylum canvas, Silver was without a doubt going for a swift ending, locking in the “Silver Scream” ankle lock, he twisted and pulled as Hypnosis squirmed in agony, things weren’t looking good for the TV champion.

A quick instinctive boot set Hypnosis free, catching Silver in the face with the sole of his boot, he rocked him back, busting his lip in the process as Silver fell on his posterior, the man from the movies however had a short temper, and the sight of his own blood coming from what he considered to be an elegant face, boiled his blood.

He quickly swept in again, grabbing Hypnosis by the chain around his neck, and pulling him into a solid jab to the face, batting him around the head with right handed punched, Silver continued the process until one final strike snapped Hypnosis’ chain and sent his head cracking into the canvas with a thud, the situation for Tyler was worsening, his blood now staining the canvas, his eyes swelling shut from the repeated punches.

Silver however was in fine form, spending a moment to anger the crowd with a film shoot esque pose, his violent side once again surfaced, the crowd grimacing as he sent Hypnosis right across the Asylum with hideous looking toe end boots to his ribs, each one knocking the TV champion in the air and back to the canvas with a thud, now pressed against the Asylum mesh, Silver took his change to shine once again, using his boot to press the face of Hypnosis sickeningly into the mesh, grinding and cutting his face, however, desperate times called for desperate measures, and as Hypnosis’ hour of need arrived, and unlikely, and almost insignificantly appearing saviour arrived.

What wasn’t expected, was that it would be Synn.

Synn did nothing more than walk out onto the aisle to spectate, this however was enough to draw Silver’s attention for a key split second, eyeing Synn with a glare, he fell victim to a desperate moment from Hypnosis that would prove vital, a low blow followed by a shirt of weight sent Silver tumbling out of the Asylum to the arena floor, defeated.

Hypnosis struggled to his feet, bloodied and bruised, just in time to catch Synn disappear through the curtain, Silver however stood on the outside in shock, for this time… it had appeared that the best man, had not won.

Winner: Hypnosis via Ringout

Nerva & Impetigo Vs AKoji Tamura & The Masked Man

“Devil With the King’s Card” by Machine Head played over the speakers. The fans booed at the song, and booed even louder as Koji Tamura brushed past the curtains. Feet and knuckles taped, he walked down to the cage in strong strides. He climbed up the stairs, swung the door open and entered the cage, circling around like a hungry lion. His music faded out. Back at the entryway the Masked Man appeared to another chorus of boos. Despite not knowing his face, the fans knew well what he had done to Impetigo and Wonder Hanna in recent weeks.

When the arena quieted down, “Conserve” by the Big D and the Kids Table kicked over the speakers. The fans immediately rose and cheered as Impetigo walked down the aisle with a look of disdain on his face, his eyes moving left and right on Koji and the Masked Man. He stopped before the steel steps and waited for his team partner for the night. “Unified” by Biohazard replaced his music and the fans cheered even more. Nerva walked through the curtains while slipping her thin, fingerless gloves on.

Impetigo slapped her on the back of her arm and ran up the steps and into the cage. Before she could enter, Koji slammed it shut and stared at her. She backed down the steps as if he hypnotically made her. He smiled and turned around to see Impetigo and the Masked Man trading fists. Koji came around from behind and round kicked Impetigo in the brain. He then grabbed Impetigo by the biceps as the Masked Man sunk in deep body shots. Nerva hesitated for a moment, but jumped into the Asylum cage and went straight for the Masked Man with a flying sidekick that got him in the neck. The impact sent him into the cage, where Nerva followed him with a shoulder block to the gut and an elbow shot to the jaw.

Koji sneered and headed for Nerva, but Impetigo swung him around and head butted him in the face. Impetigo hooked Koji from behind as he held his eye in pain, and German suplexed him to the other side of the cage. Nerva swung a right hook at the Masked Man, but he ducked it and uppercut her in the stomach. She doubled over. He throttled her with both hands, picked her up, and whipped her across the cage to where Koji was. Impetigo saw the Masked Man and immediately charged at him, taking him down with a clothesline. He continued to stomp away viciously in revenge for all of the attacks on him and Wonder Hanna.

Nerva rolled onto all fours and looked up to see Koji smiling. He grabbed her by the hair, and despite being relentless and vicious just seconds ago, she became weak and afraid. He pulled her close and kissed her. She broke away, but he grabbed her by the chin and brought her back to her. “You whore!” he yelled, and then slapped her across the face. Before she could react, he ridge-hand chopped her in the back of her neck and then turned around with a back fist to the back of her head. Impetigo eased up on the boots to the Masked Man and turned in Koji’s direction. He saw him punching her in the face repeatedly and didn’t see her do anything about it.

He charged towards Koji.

Out of the corner of his eye, Koji saw Impetigo and tried to counter with the roaring elbow. Impetigo ducked under it, grabbed Koji in a full nelson and dropped him face-first onto the canvas. Koji lifted his face off the mat with blood dripping from his nose. Impetigo kicked him in the ribs, causing him to roll over beside the cage. “You son! Of! A! Bitch!” said Impetigo with each kick to Koji’s mid-section. He grabbed Koji by his karate gi and brought him up, but Koji swatted his hands away and punched him in the mouth. Koji round kicked Impetigo in the gut, front kicked him in the face, and sent him against the cage with a jumping front kick to the jaw.

Nerva stood up, out of breath. She turned around and was met by a knee to the gut from the Masked Man. She doubled over, and then fell on her stomach from the impact of a double ax-handle. He dropped a knee between her shoulder blades and then wrenched her jaw back. The ref asked her if she wanted to give in, but she refused. A few seconds later, Koji floored Impetigo with a judo toss and then patted the Masked Man on the back. Koji brought Nerva up by the hair and dragged her face across the cage rim. He pulled her face up to the crowd, and front row fans twitched their heads away as blood dripped out of a cut beside of Nerva’s eye.

The Masked Man grabbed both of Impetigo’s ankles, split them and dropped his knee on Impetigo’s crotch. Impetigo wailed as the crowd groaned in sympathy for him. The Masked Man pulled him up by the shirt, and the crowd exploded with cheers as Impetigo nearly cracked his jaw with a stiff uppercut. Impetigo turned him around with a haymaker and locked him up in a cross-face chicken wing. The crowd anticipated, and then cheered as he sent him back with the Filth Drop. The Masked Man flew through the air and smacked the back of his head against the rim.

Meanwhile Koji choked Nerva against the rim and used her own blood to paint “SLUT” over her forehead. The ref reached ten, and called for the bell.

Impetigo and Nerva had won.

Koji turned around with his teeth clenched and face red with fury. He slammed Nerva’s head against the rim and jumped out of the cage. Impetigo continued to pound at the Masked Man, and then went for the mask. The fans cheered him on even more as he began pulling the mask up against the man’s struggling. He punched the man in the face to knock him out, and began to pull the mask up without resistance.

Koji re-entered the cage just in the nick of time to whack Impetigo over the head with the chair. Nerva slowly got to her feet with her fingers grabbing the chain-link fence. “Hey, sluthead,” said Koji. He smiled and threw down the chair. “We’re not done yet.”

Nerva looked up at the AsylumTron to see what he wrote on her forehead, and then she immediately wiped her forearm across it. He waved her forward. He was six feet away from the cage door. She was five feet away. She began to take small sidesteps. Four feet away. More small steps. Three feet away. She dashed to open the door, but the lock was jammed. She tried to jump over the cage, but Koji got there in time to wrap her around the waist and bring her down to the mat.

She kicked and screamed. “Go away, you son of a bitch! Go away!”

Winners: Nerva & Impetigo via Knockout

How it feels.

And just when it looked like Koji Tamura was going to have his way with Nerva once again, the crowd started cheering.

Of course, not for Tamura.

The cheers were for Brittany who had just made her way through the crowd and had hopped in the ring wielding what looked like a shortened bo. She struck Koji over the head with his, causing him to fall over and release Nerva, who ran for the locker room. Brittany just stood over Koji for a second before driving the end of the bo into Koji's ribs, then taking it lengthwise and hitting Koji in the stomach and forehead. She then took a microphone out of the inside of her jacket.

"So Koji, you like to use kendo sticks huh? You know anything about Kendo? Well I don't, but Mike knows a little, and he leant me this bo-slash-cane made out of burnt rattan and I gotta tell you it's a lot harder than those shinais. What do you think?"

Koji most likely couldn't hear what Brittany was saying, he was too bust holding his chest and head in pain.

"Yeah, that's what I figured. So Koji, how does it feel, looking like a helpless little bitch in front of this capacity crowd and everyone watching at home?"

Nothing but pained screams.

"I can't hear you Koji. Perhaps you'd like another refresher course. What do all of you fans out there think? Think he needs another lesson?"

The fans cheered.

"Music to my ears."

Given that Koji was lying on his side, Brittany had easy access to Koji's back. She brought the bo down hard enough to surely leave a large welt going from his left shoulder down to his right hip. Koji's back arched as he felt the fire slice across his back. Brittany walked over in front of Koji and kicked him over on his back. She walked over and stood over his head, reared the bo back and... holy crap. Let's just say Koji probably feels like he ate a hot dog and a meatball sandwich for lunch. Whole. The scream filled the arena. Brittany was able to silence him by giving him something else to worry about, that being his lack of oxygen. Brittany knelt down and started choking Koji with the bo using her knee and one hand, freeing up the other to hold the mic.

"Now Koji, we both know why I just knocked your balls into your throat. This was a lesson in manners. Take it to heart. I'd like to not have to wash this cane again."

Brittany finally released the choke on Koji, finally dragging him to his feet by his hair. It seemed like she would send him on his way, but instead spun him around, hooked him into a half nelson/chickenwing, and subsequently lifted him over for the spinning Tiger Suplex '85 known as the Spiral Fracture. The crowd erupted as Cold by Static X played over the loud speakers and Brittany lifted the bo over her head as she walked out. Medical personnel rushed the ring to check on Tamura.

Token Weed Vs MUD & Carnage

“Adrenaline Rush” by Twista.

And with it came Cornelius Corteia.

Carnage made his way to the Asylum, rabidly insane as always, he’d relish an opportunity to take a shot at the U.K. title, and perhaps a “stab” at MUD, at the very same time. Wide eyed, and clutching a knife that never left his side, Carnage clambered into the Asylum and sported his almost trademark yellow toothed grin, as he did… “Eyeless” by Slipknot played throughout the arena, and with it, came MUD.

Or, not.

Time passed bye, Carnage’s eyes widening in fury as MUD failed to surface from behind the curtain, recently addicted to a certain substance which definitely pertained to drugs, MUD had been on extremely shaky ground, and his failure to appear would probably result in the termination of his Asylum contract.

Joe Campbell’s handicap match had quickly become even Stevens, Joe would have to save the plan for double teaming Token out of his title for another week, for this how now, rather evidently… become a one on one situation.

“Snowblind.”

The sounds of System of a Down kicked the crowd into a booing frenzy, Asylum United Kingdom champion, Token Weed… parting the curtain wearing a “SOAD” T-Shirt, Token paced down the aisle, glaring at Carnage who merely smiled to himself, suddenly… from behind Token, the Asylumtron kicked into action, even more boos surfacing as the face of Joe Campbell quickly appeared to present a short message.

“Please not fans, the Asylum does not endorse the t-shirt which Token Weed is wearing, please see you’re nearest stand for “official” Token Weed t-shirts, and the music of a good band, that is not shite like System of a Down, Disturbed!” Joe said, suddenly disappearing from the screen as an angry Token turned to determine where the irritating voice had been coming from, to no avail, he placed his attention back on Carnage, to find a surprise in the waiting.

CRACK!

Carnage had used the distraction well, clambering out of the Asylum and laying viciously into Token with right and left hands, much to the joy of the crowd; he followed up by drilling Token headfirst into the guard rail, before promptly tossing him over it into raging fans, who kicked and punched at the massively despised fighter, Carnage quickly mounted the rail, before leaping off and surprising the crowd with the Maximum Carnage elbow drop, only to miss his target and find only concrete.

Token rolled away, allowing Carnage to plummet into the solid floor, as Token rolled to his feet, he sequestered the coca cola cup which had been previously gripped by a young fan, taking a sip, spitting it back into his face, and then smacking the cup across the head of Carnage, with little effect!

Carnage staggered to his feet, Token shortly distracted, having to dodge more blows from furious fans, he turned in time to see Carnage coming toward him, just enough time to unstrap the U.K. title from his waist, and swiftly bat Carnage in the head with it, busting his head into a shower of blood!

Carnage fell to the floor, the same location which the U.K. title found itself in shortly after, Token’s clear disrespect for the belt was evident, as he tossed it to the ground, picked Carnage up by the hair, and tossed him back over the rail, leaving the title sitting on the arena floor.

Token clambered over the aisle, picking Carnage up by the hair again, and throwing him directly into the steps at the front of the Asylum, with a solid crack, before commandeering a nearbye TV cable, and wrapping it around Carnage’s throat, squeezing the life out of him and almost popping his eyeballs from his head!

Then the offensive, if not sickening genius of Token Weed, which the fans had come to know and… hate, came into play.

Token formed a noose with the wire, wrapping it around Carnage’s throat, and quickly dumping him over the guard rail, choking him out on the other side, Token played roll of hangman, pulling back on the cable and choking Carnage into unconsciousness.

“How the fuck do you like that? SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Token snarled, addressing Carnage and then the fans, Token waited curiously for a reply.

He got it.

“AhAHAHAHahAHAh!” Carnage roared from behind the rail in a restrained, gagging manor, “Oh… its funny? I’ll show you funny freak.” Token sneered, snapping up the nearest chair, and grabbing the TV cable, roping in Carnage.

CRACK!

And swiftly despatching him with a chairshot to the top of the skull, Carnage fell limp to the arena floor, blood now pouring from the top of his head, however, he was quickly roped in again by Token, who disgustingly pulled him right over the guard rail by his neck via the cable, before sending the crowd into a booing frenzy.

He separated the steps, places Carnage’s head in between them, and drew back the chair… how ironic that in a match where Carnage would usually be committing the violent acts, the roles had been reversed by a dangerously twisted individual.

CRACK!

No emotion in the eyes of Token Weed, he brought down the chair, he knocked Carnage out, dragging his limp body up the steps, the bell rang as Token tossed Carnage into the Asylum, in rang once again seconds later, Token hurling Carnage through the air and from whence he came, the match had officially lasted but a second or two, but Token had proved once again… that he could, and would… take it to the next level.

Winner: Token Weed via Ringout

A done deal.

Three sharp pounds on the door, Joe Campbell looked up from his desk. Before Joe could even answer it Vic Creed pulled the door open then slammed it shut as he walked through it. Joe sighed and looked up at the extremely pissed off Creed.

"What now?" Joe asked, as he looked up at Creed.

"I want a fucking match with Token Weed," Creed said, Joe interupted quickly.

"This isn't fucking wrestling you stupid ass ape, you don't ask for a match you ask for a fight," Joe said stubbornly. Joe looked up, expecting to hear Creed ask him again, instead he felt a hand grip tightly around his neck and slam him into the wall behind him.

"Listen Campbell, if I don't have a fucking fight with him next week, I'll rip your insides out and use your ribs for tooth picks, got it?" Creed said as Joe began to shake a bit nervously.

"Yeah Creed, you have your fight next week, what ever man, just leave me alone please," Joe said as Creed let go letting Joe hit the floor hard. As Creed left the room, Joe reached for his bottle and swigged a big gulp back.

"Fucking wrestlers."

… but I can see.

Each of the fans took their respective seats, waiting for what anticipated event was to take place next. Of course, something was to interrupt the plans. Nothing was to ever go right on Sunday Show. But sometimes, the errors would be what would bring the fans to the chairs. Now, if you asked the next “error”, he’d tell you that he is what puts these people in their seats, regardless of what they say about him.

“Fuck it all!”

The fans shot up from their seats in shock. The fired Rave Caprino pushed the black curtains aside. Rave took in the sea of fans shouting their insults his way. He took in the garbage that was already being hurled in his direction. All of it was a welcome homecoming for him as he walked down toward the caged ring. He entered, and pulled a microphone from his pocket.

“I love you, too.”

Rave smiled, causing all the fans to briefly boo the man in the ring. As they stopped, Rave continued.

“I’m not here to deal with you people. I’m here to talk to Joey Campbell. See, I could have done this from the van outside, but I feel it adds a lot more of that human touch if you break into their arena with security looking to keep you out and speak to them from their own ring.

”Now, Joe, I know why you fired me. I think we all know. You’re afraid. Somehow, someone isn’t impressed by your money, your power, or your influence. Somehow, someone can’t be paid off. Somehow, someone doesn’t feel the need to shove their dick up your ass just to make you happy.

“Joe, you’re afraid. You piss yourself every time you hear the word “Fucked”, because it reminds you of me. You-“

Interrupting Rave’s eloquent speech, “Boiler” by Limp Bizkit hit the PA. The fans cheered for Joe Campbell, not because he was beloved by the fans, but because he was here to make the hated Rave Caprino quiet.

“Rave, no one’s afraid of you. Hell, I’d hire you today if you were worth it, but the fact is that, unless you’re working for free, you’re not. You’re just commoner garbage that thinks he’s a hard ass. News flash, you fucking twat, you’re shit.”

Rave smiled.

“Joe, I’ll make you a deal. You sign me a contract that states if revenue from shows and merchandise both go down while I’m employed here, you can fire me. This would prove you’re not afraid of me. Now, in the event that you don’t hire me, we’ll have your nuts on public display. It’s all up to you.”

Joe gulped. There was really only one option…

“You have a deal.”

Lost and found.

The camera's backstage are following some feet. Female feet. They're heading towards a closest in the basement of the arena, from which muffled talking and moaning can be heard. The picture changes to the door knob, and a petit feminine right hand grasps the knob gently, turning it slowly.

The door, opens, and what do we see?

Yep, Joe was telling porky pies. Borst is there, tied up and gagged.

"Babe! What happened?" asks the owner of the female hands and feet. "Are you alright." she says as she pulls his gag off.

"Fine." grunts Borst. "Fucking fine."

Archangel(c) & Inmate(c) Vs Dissident

Rewind.

If you throw four individuals into the same situation, twice in a short period of time, will the outcome remain the same?

The question on everyone’s lips as Mike Bear and Fear prepared to take on Archangel and Inmate once again, the previous week had seen a highly controversial finish, Bear had locked Inmate into UnBearable, and Inmate had clearly submitted to the vicious hold, uncharacteristically it had to be said, but none the less… an ending as such would suggest that Mike Bear and Fear would walk into the following week as new team champions.

Not the case, thanks to Joe Campbell.

Campbell had made his presence felt, ordering the referee to make an irrational and ludicrous decision, Archangel and Inmate were awarded the win, and thus; the titles… leaving Bear and Fear with nothing to walk away from the bout with, aside from some bottled rage, rage which would surely soon be released.

The crowd exploded as “Sleep Now In the Fire” By Rage Against the Machine hit the speakers, Dissident, aka Mike Bear and Fear of the recently reformed Underground, marched their way to the Asylum with the intense support of the attending fans behind them, Bear and Fear acknowledged, clambering into the mesh structure and raising their hands, not in victory… but the suggestion was perhaps that they soon would.

As they prepared for the battle ahead, they were struck down, a man who’d tapped out the week previous is a style which had never appeared to be a part of his demeanour, nor did the sneak attack, with a steel chair.

Tyler Burton appeared form nowhere, clambering into the Asylum from behind the two Dissident members, and striking, sending Bear down with a stiff shot across the spine with the chair, and following up by cracking Fear across the top of the skull with it as he turned.

Seconds later, Archangel was on the scene, no music, just the appearance of the massive other half of the team champions, what he did however… was extremely unexpected.

Archangel reached out, and simply snatched the chair from the hands on Inmate as he prepared to bring it down on Fear, Archangel’s gesture from there was loud and clear, tossing the chair into the crowd and getting in the face of Inmate.

The two stood nose to nose, tension growing… team champions looking anything but a team, when the tension finally snapped, not through their own means however, Mike Bear lunging and spearing the massive Angel to the canvas, and Fear taking Inmate down, strangling and choking the life from within.

How pleased Joe Campbell must have felt.

His prodigal, albeit forced sons, were about to implode, and right at the point where his new nemesis’s could strike the hardest, Bear now had Archangel face down, twisting and contorting his arm with a fujiwara armbar, Archangel however… didn’t have it in his demeanour to submit, gritting his teeth and breaking free with several swift elbows to the head of Mike Bear.

Inmate however, the previous week had proved the worth of his recent attitude, struggling on the canvas, he was freed from the choke of Fear just as a verbal submission may have occurred, Archangel sending his massive boot into the side of Fear’s head and rocking him to the canvas, Inmate took a second to breath, but was interrupted unexpectedly.

His air suddenly cut off by the massive hands of Archangel, who picked him up by the throat and shook him rigorously, Archangel clearly had standards that the Inmate wasn’t meeting, and as he took his frustrations out on him, something snapped.

A solid kick below the belt.

Followed by a massive, massive suplex.

And so it appeared, the teaming was over.

Archangel’s massive frame bounced off the canvas, but quickly began to struggle back to a solid base, this however was quickly stopped by Inmate, who was definitely cutting all ties, grasping Archangel in SNAP! And locking it in, Angel struggled, but the hold wasn’t all that easily escaped, Inmate released the hold, and reached far over the Asylum rim, barely able to reach a now chair leant against the canvas side, he brought it in, and delivered a quick snapping strike to the spine of Archangel, rendering him motionless, he repeated the steps, ducking an advancing Fear and taking him out, before tossing the chair at Bear, ducking the swing which followed, and punching the chair into his face, Bear had just been made a “Fuckhead”… even if it wasn’t by the owner of the respected manoeuvre.

Inmate stood, bodies downed in his finest moment of glory, all enemies fallen, however… just as he basked in it, something interrupted him.

The flickering of the Asylumtron.

On it came, some form of discussion already underway.

A long wooden desk stood on a small stage in front of a small amount of press. On the desk were three microphones, each for a different news channel. Two men sat at this desk: Joe Campbell and Rave Caprino. As the cameras were set up and the reporters drew out their notepads, Joe stood up and made his way to the group of microphones.

“Let today mark the official signing of an already familiar Asylum star, Rave Caprino. He will be signing a contract for two years unless both parties agree that he is allowed to leave or until revenue from tickets and merchandise go down simultaneously.”

Joe spoke with a fake enthusiasm. Rave picked this up, but he didn’t care. Joe sat down at his own wooden chair and signed the contract before placing the pen on the paper and sliding it over to Rave.

He signed it, and gave it back to Joe. The cold feeling of a human touch on the back of his head caught Joe’s attention, but it was too late. Rave forced his head into the desk, causing a little splatter of blood to spew across the contract from Joe’s now broken nose. Standing up, Rave walked from the room, the cameras following him out as he did so.

Welcome to Asylum, Rave Caprino.

And with that, the screen was blank, this wasn’t however the case for Inmate’s expression, pure rage in his eyes, his moment of glory snatched by someone else, he slammed the chair down in pure fury, turning and hitting a solid roadblock.

Archangel.

Vengeance.

Locked in, Inmate struggled but found escaping the hold impossible, a low blow attempt was useless, Archangel driven forth by pure rage, he squeezed Inmate into submission, before spiking him head first into the Asylum rim, busting him open.

Suddenly, Archangel turned, and rendered the referee unconscious with the same procedure, his reasoning for such an action unexplained?

Not for long.

Archangel suddenly clambered out of the Asylum, leaving his team mate, his title… and the rest, all behind, the bell didn’t ring because the referee was laying on the canvas motionless, and as Archangel disappeared through the curtain, his motives and actions were explained.

A groggy Inmate got to his feet just in time to watch bewildered as his partner left the arena interior, as he turned however… he had much more to worry about.

Both Dissident members, doused in blood, dogs of war unleashed.

Inmate too tried to make a break for it, clambering mid way out of the Asylum, only to be hoisted back in by his belt by the massive Fear, who held Inmate elevated by his belt, before dropping him face first to the canvas with a thud.

Inmate got to his feet dazed once again.

CRACK!

A furious Mike Bear, lashing into Inmate with fist after fist to the face, finishing things off nicely by spinning Inmate around the absolutely hurling him, head first into the Asylum mesh, Inmate stumbled backward, the blood which had been drying on his head now freshly flowing, as Bear pulled him by the arm, and whipped him, straight into the massive boot of Fear, which wasn’t short of removing his head from his shoulders.

Inmate crumbled to the canvas.

But was soon in a far more compromising position.

UnBearable.

Inmate was lifted from the canvas by a snarling Mike Bear, who locked in the hold and twisted and clenched to the extent that Inmate’s neck could have easily snapped at any moment, this was it, no saviours, no interferences, game over… Dissident had done it.

But the match official was still down.

Bear saw this, dropping Inmate who was now unconscious, to the canvas, before approaching the official and reviving him with several swift slaps across the face, he awoke, just in time to see the raising of Inmate’s carcass, lifted with relative ease by the massive Fear, who military pressed him into the air, carried him over to the edge of the Asylum, and tossed him over and out, the crowd exploding with euphoric cheers, awaiting the crowning of new champions.

The bell however, wasn’t ringing… and the reason for this was simple enough.

Inmate hadn’t touched the ground.

He was held aloft by two anonymous individuals who had clambered from the crowd and halted the moment of truth, the men looked no different to the thousands of fans surrounding them, they were unknowns, nobodies, but they’d just stopped the crowning of new team champions.

Little did the crowd know, that Adam Nowell and Hans Krueger were far from nobodies.

Hired hitmen, would have been a far closer job description.

To the crowd, Krueger and Nowell were simply everyman, but to anyone who knew their fighting facts, these two were far from nobodies, Nowell… a refined kickboxer appearing briefly in fighting promotion “Pride”, and Krueger, a purebread, shootfighting, back alley brawler from Germany.

The two men had already provoked the expected crowd greeting, hideous boos, draping Inmate over the guard rail, they prevented him from touching the ground, and this kept his title reign intact, quickly thereafter, they got around to doing what they did best, their jobs.

Krueger and Nowell leapt into the Asylum, and were instantly thrust into a bloody battle with Mike Bear and Fear, who’d once again had their team titles snatched away from them, Krueger and Bear exchanged vicious punches, Bear finally tackling Krueger to the ground and pummelling him about the head, as the massive Fear caught a jab from Nowell, and used his own momentum to hurl him headfirst into the Asylum mesh.

Seconds later, the war was over, a disgraceful display splitting things up, security arrived on the scene, and kicked off hideous boos in the crowd by draggin Bear and Fear away from the brawl as opposed to the two men whom had incited it.

As Kruger and Nowell stood in the Asylum with their mission for the night accomplished, Dissident ended their Sunday show just as they had the previous week, screwed over, and dragged away.

In the backstage area, Joe Campbell watched a monitor.

And smiled.

Winners: No Contest

It's Official.

Fuckin' in the Bushes by Oasis blares out over the PA, causing the fans to erupt. It's not quite a "Yeaaaaaaah!!!" and not quite a "Booooooo!" somewhere in between. More of a "Waaaaaaaah!" But none the less, it's a huge reaction that would shake the foundations of the arena, if it were really possible.

Borst bursts through the curtain with the original Asylum Championship in one hand, and his other hand parked firmly on his wife's arse, as Zoe Borst walks down to the Asylum beside her husband. Once in the ring, Borst tosses the Asylum Championship to the floor, and snatches a mic from the ring announcer.

"What am I gonna do? Am I going to side with the original boss? Or will it be a silver haired has-been? Or will I screw over my wife." Borst says as he looks at Zoe. "It's my big return. My official return. I've had to struggle like fuck to get back into action. Screw Triple H's return, you're all tuning in for..." he sticks his face in front of a camera. "BORST!"

"And Joe Campbell! I'm gonna use this fist..." Borst holds up his right hand. "To re-arrange your fucking face so bad that you have to literally talk out of your fucking arse. I'm not into any of that fucking homosexual bondage shit. So keep those ropes away!" Borst turns to Zoe, who's looking quite marvellous in her arse tight jeans and skimpy white top. He winks at her and she smiles back at Borst who gives her a thumbs up. "If it weren't for my lovely wife Zoe finding me in that broom cupboard Joseph, I wouldn't have been able to come out here and do all this."

Borst is good at pointing out the obvious. Although it's not so obvious to him. He doesn't realise Joe actually wanted him out of the way and tried to claim Borst was still dead. He actually thinks it was some kinky bondage related homosexual act.

"So Joe. Keep your fucking dick away from my arse!" bellows Borst, causing the fans to roar with approval. "Yeah!"

"Well..." Borst says quietly. "It's time to explain some things and to tell you what I'm gonna do with the Asylum Championship... although... this guy Eric said to me the other day that I'm fucked. Yep. Eric said I'll never top what I've done in the past, so I'll be stale. So Eric, fuck you. You're a loser. When I left the Asylum, I was the fucking man. And I still am. Heck, I'm fucking bigger than Hogan. I'm the biggest superstar in this entire industry. So fuck you. Fuck you. In your fucking face."

Borst points at the Asylum Championship that lies in a heap on the floor. "That thing is still legally mine. I never lost it. So there. It's mine to do with as I please. As far as I'm concerned, fuck Kenny Rock being forever champion, he was never champion. Sure the record books will say he was the champ, but my books say he wasn't. He's a fucking loser. Everyone knows that. You've gotta be a loser to stick a fucking gun in your mouth. The idiot probably didn't even realise it was loaded and was trying to pull off a Borst style stunt... that guy always tried to copy me y'know... but yeah, it made good TV eh folks?" Cue the cheesy wink from Borst in the direction of a camera.

"I've decided what I'm gonna do with this title though, and that is..." Borst pauses for a moment and suddenly shouts, "KEEP IT!"

Shock horror!

"No. Not really. Next Sunday, because he's a loser, Joe will fight for the title... against A.D. Sounds nice doesn't it, that's what you fans probably want. And to help increase ratings, I referee it. Job done. Now moving on to the important things."

The fans suddenly erupt into cheers, as Borst begins to wander around the ring a bit. He stops and raises the mic to his mouth. "You all thought I was a goner." he says. "You're all a bunch of fucking losers. Tyler is a fucking loser. You see... when you're the man, waaaaay better than anyone else, things get a bit boring. So I figured, lets play a game. I called the game "Piss off Tyler even more and make everyone look stupid". It's quite a simple game to play, let me explain how."

Borst leans on the side of the Asylum, almost sitting on the rim around the top. "First of all, you frame someone. To do this, you buy a toy gun, challenge someone you don't like to a big match on a scaffold, and hire several actors. Then you make it seem like this guy killed someone... and then get your actors to tell him he's going to jail for murder. To make things more believable, you pretend to get convicted too, and tie it all in with a deal you have with a Japanese TV company to do a documentary on US Prisons called Felon Folklore. Come on, you didn't think I'd REALLY talk to a judge like that did you?"

The crowd are pretty much silent at the moment. Borst gives Zoe a quick wink and thumbs up, and then continues. "But then, you don't tell the guy you framed that he's actually part of a documentary, adding a touch of emotion and realism to the show, and you go about seeing how far you can stretch his emotions. Then, you realise you're coming to the end of the documentary, and you want to finish it in style. So you fake your own death on it to see how the guy you're framing, in this case Tyler Burton, would react while still facing several years in jail."

Boooooooooo!

"He goes crazy, and for some reason doesn't find it at all stupid that he, like millions of others, saw the shooting on TV. Then, while he's really upset and going crazy, you make sure no-one tells him it was in fact one big set up to continue to emotionally destroy him, and let him think he's really in jail. He then spends months trying to prove his innocence when in fact he wasn't really supposed to be in jail in the first place."

Boooooooooo! Hissssssssssss!

"Meanwhile, you notice that everyone who saw the shooting think that you're really dead. Many would think that this is a bad thing. Uh uh. You cut a silly promo, and fake your death. Why? So you can fuck off to the Caribbean with your wife for a few month's vacation. You might as well go the whole hog, and convince the entire world you're dead. Not just the fans, but the rest of the Asylum, your family, everyone. Pay someone to set up a tombstone in the middle of a field, and hope that people don't realise there wasn't actually a funeral."

BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

"Then, when you've done relaxing on vacation, you come back and announce that you're all a bunch of fucking idiots. You all believed a fucking ANGLE. You're a bunch of losers!"

Even more booing. Nice.

"We don't have fucking angles in the Asylum, angles are in that fucking pro-wrestling shit. I mean, come on, do you guys really believe they hurt each other in wrestling? Fucking losers. Do you really think Triple H hurt his knee? It was all a big stunt so that they could get loads of fucking ratings in the new year, when he conveniently comes back. Come on people, wake the fuck up. I'm meant to be the one who can't grasp reality, right? WRONG. You are.

"You're all as bad as those stupid wrestlers. I've proven they're all wimps. I am the guy who holds a victory over that fWo superstar, Ric Chronos. I kicked his fucking arse! I beat up The Don, and conned him into crossing the border into Mexico so that he was arrested.

"I smashed up several wrestling promotions, trying to show all you people how pointless the whole sports entertainment industry is. Smashed up CWL. That's a start. Go fuck around with that club place, and it closes within a couple of weeks - eliminating the fighting opposition. Lets go back to wrestling. Fuck up 21W, they close for a month or so, and you end the career of their champion. Nice eh? Then you go fuck up fWo, setting stuff on fire, and costing the owner booking rights or something to three losers - that would as good as finish the fed, they're incompetent. Look what fWo had to resort to - putting one of the least talented Asylum fighters on their show, only for him to fuck with them and top himself.

"Wrestling's shit. It's crap. I've proven it time after time. Wrestlers in the fucking WWF copy me as well. Moves, style, even coinciding the return of their big superstar with my big return. Cheats. It's shit and corrupt... and evil. But do you listen? Do you take any notice? Nooooooo, you all go around defending wrestling. You looooooove wrestling. But I just used the biggest part of the wrestling industry to make you all feel like idiots. I conned everyone. Don't you see people? Wrestling is EVIL."

Borst takes a deep breath, using his nose instead of his mouth to exhale.

"It almost ruined my life, it's ruined hundreds of athletes lives, it's ruined Tyler Burton's life, and it can ruin YOURS."

Borst jumps forward and bellows, "STOP WATCHING! They're poisoning your mind! You guys will believe anything. If an inexperienced and extremely thick guy like me can fool you all into believing an angle, then just think what the pro's are doing to your mind. They make a living by pretending to do things. Look at what I managed to do... con you all, con the world, and ruin the life of Tyler Burton some more at the same time. Don't you realise how EVIL that is?

"It's scary you know. It's scary." Borst says as he paces around the ring, shaking his head. "People say I have trouble grasping reality? Well take a look in the mirror. I just used the most pathetic excuse for entertainment in the world to make you all look like idiots and to pretty much ruin the life of one of the most talented fighters in the world. I've also made millions of American pounds in doing so, and have cemented myself as the greatest superstar and hottest commodity in this industry in the world today. Fuck Hogan, try Borst. The ratings for the Asylum have gone through the fucking roof. Job done."

Borst turns to walk away and stops. He turns back around and raises the mic to his mouth slowly. "Do you have any idea how stupid all you fuckheads look?" Borst quickly turns his head towards the camera. "And Tyler." Borst winks. "How's it going mate?

"So why don't you all tune in again next week? You know, for...

"BORST!"