Now... we're fucked.

He'd gone with a venue close to home because he could get there nice an early... not to organize an event but to sulk and entertain himself, bad mood was a massive understatement. Clutching a bottle of whiskey in his hand Joe sat and stared into space as a female figure approached from behind.

"I called them all." She spoke up "Quite a few of them aren't pleased that you cancelled the event, they want to know if they'll be paid."

"Ha!" Joe scoffed "That's a good one, you can tell Dez he's being paid in fucking dog shit."

"Alright." The female replied "Anything else?"

"You can suck my knob." Joe slurred back.

She sighed and slowly walked away as Joe waved his Jack Daniels bottle at her furiously.

"That's alright you toothy bitch, I'll pay someone else for one." He cried as his voice echoed through the arena.

He sat around for a couple of seconds... before picking up a small device and pressing a button.

BOOM.

A huge firework explosion went off at the top of the aisleway.

"Burn you useless cunts, burn." Joe laughed to himself as a row of cardboard cutout fighters set ablaze. After a few moments arena staff rushed out with extinguishers to put out the blaze.

"You cunts... I wan enjoying that!" Joe cried "Hmph... should've brought the real thing in, I bet Chris Credible would let me set him on fire."

Joe sighed again.

And then the video wall flicked into action... Joe smiled to himself and leant back in his chair to watch the best of Briana Banks and Jenna Jameson.

"Never really thought about what a waste these big video walls are." Joe said to himself "Finally being done justice... nothing like a thirty foot porno."

But after several minutes the appeal had gone... Joe found himself seeking other interesting things to do.

Joe pulled a microphone up from the canvas and spoke into it.

"Right... go on, do it." He said.

And that's when the trademark Ultimate Fighting Championship music kicked in and the curtain at the top of the aisle parted, from behind it walked none other that UFC's own Pete Williams.

The fighter made his way down to the Asylum and clambered in.

"Where is everybody?" Pete asked.

"I dunno." Joe replied "Kind of odd that we didn't sell out given that the famous Pete Williams is here."

The Asylum owner stopped for a minute to chuckle behind his hand.

"So uh... who am I fighting?"

Joe removed his hand and laughed hard.

"You're a fighter?" Joe said in hysterics "That's funny because every time I put the telly on... you seem to be getting the fuck spanked out of you... with your gay little beard and shitty haircut."

Pete scowled furiously and balled up his fist.

"I wouldn't son, I've seen you fight remember... I reckon I could take you."

Pete angrily turned to walk away.

"Now then... where are you going, I paid you the entire Asylum wage budget for this week to be here, you can't just fuck off." Joe said shaking his head.

"So what exactly do you want me to do? No opponent... no fans... this isn't a fighting promotion!"

"You would appear to be right." Joe said in reply before tossing several small balls in Pete's direction "It's a circus... but where are the clowns? Get juggling Coco."

Williams couldn't believe it but a second later the sound of a gun being cocked could be heard.

"Do it." Joe snarled.

And that's when the circus music began to play and Pete Williams started to juggle... Joe laughed to himself once again but it'd only last so long, sooner or later his personal amusement would be over and he'd remember that three years of hard work had gone down the shitter at Turmoil.

As one Williams juggled like a discontented fool in the Asylum another Williams sat high in the stands and shook his head.

"Fucking idiot." Token Weed said to himself, getting to his feet and making an exit.

If Joe Campbell wouldn't fight to keep the Asylum alive, he would.