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"This
time I'm taking it away, I've got a problem This
pain is elevating, as the hurt turns into hating My
hurt inside is fading My
mind's done with this This
pain is elevating, as the hurt turns into hating The
hurt inside is fading For
what's inside awaking I'm
here to stay (bring it down) This
pain is elevating, as the hurt turns into hating My
hurt inside is fading For
what's inside awaking "Here To Stay" by Korn.
The interest of fairness.
“You
know, its funny.” Boos. Korn’s
“Here To Stay” slowly faded to silence, as the sound of pure hatred
and loathing filling the Pontiac Silverdome. Joe
Campbell was out on the Broken set, wearing a smile on his face, he
paced from side to side, examining the attending crowd. “As
I was saying, its funny… how things work out, today I was cruising the
streets with a few of the boys, making my way to this venue to organise
tonight’s proceedings… and on the way here, the boys and I got
lost… so as you do, I rolled down the window to ask for directions. First
mistake. The
first thing that greeted me here in Detroit, was a 500lb hooker called
Darlene, my god… I didn’t know weather to ask directions or call up
the zoo to file a missing animal report… but yes, this fat fucking
bitch is standing there, and she bellows in her loud, whore of a voice
‘want to have some fun?’ I’d
have more fun if my penis were trapped in an elevator door.” Joe said
with a smirk, the crowd booing nonchalantly at his pointless story. “So
yeah… it was at that point, I realised what a massive shit hole
Detroit is.” Joe stopped again, this time the boos that echoed were a
lot louder, Joe was certainly mastering the art of cheap heat. “But
glad to see… a few other street whores made it to the show tonight,
and that includes the men, thousands of you faggots here tonight I
see!” The crowd exploded at Campbell, who merely smirked and started
his stroll down to the Asylum, avoiding various pieces of trash. “So
at this point, I tell the fat bitch that I’d prefer to gouge out my
eyes with a spoon than have ‘fun’ with her… and she turns a little
nasty, coming up with the age old expression that I’m sure each and
every one of you here tonight has heard at least once before… ‘go
to hell.’ She replied” Joe stopped, smiling as a small murmur of
expectance filtered through the crowd. “Go
to hell? I asked… but I’m already here!” Joe barely finished
before the crowd erupted once again with boos, slowly but surely… a
chant started to break out. YOU
ARE
AN ASSHOLE
YOU
ARE AN ASSHOLE
“Fucking
great, just what I need… a building full of smart marks, been watching
old man McMahon’s product again have we? Well enjoy it while its there
you fucking cretins… because take my word for it, wrestling is going
down. Lets
just review the week that was shall we? The
fWo! Why… was it not just this week that they lost their
television deal? Boo hoo… looks like we’ll all be missing the sheer
excitement and glory of queers in hot pants duking it out every week,
brings a tear to my eye.” Joe stopped for a moment to wipe a fake tear
away. “A
tear of joy that is, I can now spent two hours of Sunday spending
quality time instead of forcing myself to watch that drivel, I can now
partake in more exciting things, such as painting my fence, washing my
car… and playing dominoes!” Joe sneered, the crowd booing his every
word. “But
don’t worry fWo! There is a way out… word on the streets is that I
have a little, how would you guys put it… stroke? With TNN… so maybe
I can get you a deal with them… of course, you’re gonna have to play
second fiddle to us every week… but its not like that’s unchartered
territory for you guys is it?” Joe stopped for a moment to bask in his
own comments. “And
of course, there’s that false advertising issue… Sunday Night
Slaughter isn’t a really fair evaluation of the product you boys are
putting out, I might suggest a silent S toward the end, after all. Sunday. Night. Laughter. Sounds
a lot more appropriate, don’t you people agree?” Joe stopped,
silenced out by the boos. “Then
again, would pretty much be out of place on TNN… just go for Comedy
Central guys, you’ll be right up there with all the other crap they
put out!” Joe stopped again, jeers enveloping his comments. “But
enough about the fWo, this show is what its all about… and I have
issues to address, so I’ll get straight to work… Milo Samus, get yer
scrawny little arse out here.” Joe stopped, squinting his eyes toward
the top of the aisle. “Recoil”
by Choke. Enter
Samus. “There
you are you little shit.” Joe started, drawing massive heat from the
crowd “I’ve heard some stuff about you causing a lot of trouble in
the back this past week… I just wanted to address it personally…
round here, I don’t have time for trouble makers, especially not the
likes of a wrestler, a fucking shite one at that.” Joe sneered, Samus
suddenly taking a few steps forth. “Come
on then!” Joe roared, rolling up his sleeves “Come and get a fucking
lesson in what its all… AHA!” Joe suddenly started laughing, the
crowd groaning in despair. Archangel. Joe’s
recently acquired and used assassin stalked through the curtain, sending
a message out to Milo via the solid crack of a steel chair, caught
unaware, Samus fell to the ground via a vicious chair shot, the seat of
which flew into the crowd upon impact, Angel suddenly produced a set of
cuffs from his pocked, and used them to chain Samus’ hands behind his
back. “Nice
job big man.” Joe began “Teach that brat that we don’t take any
shit around here… take him out back, I have some guys waiting.” Joe
said, folding his arms as Archangel lifted Samus over his shoulder and
carried him out back, as the camera’s followed on the video wall,
Angel carried Samus toward a car which already had a running engine, the
trunk sat open, a black void which Archangel cast Samus’ limp body
into, before slamming down the hood and giving the car a quick thump, it
sped away as Archangel slinked back off down the corridor. “And
that goes for everyone and anyone who feels like taking a shot.” Joe
grinned, before stopping to stroke his chin. “Except
for you, LLB.” The crowd popped at the mention of LLB’s name. “Oh
no, I got other plans for you sunshine… now I know you aren’t here
yet… so before you arrive to object about this and that, I’m going
to make a few announcements and decisions. All
in the interest of fairness.” Joe said, stopping to smile
again. “Now,
currently pencilled down for tonight… we’re supposed to be
seeing you take on Inmate, mano el mano as it were… the ‘big draw’
as they say in the slowly decaying business I was talking about earlier. So
I got to thinking… do these filthy Detroit peasants really deserve to
see that? I mean half of them probably sucked dick to get in here and
the rest jumped the turnstyles… fuck that, we can save LLB Vs Inmate
for a later date, when we have a more deserving crowd attending!” Joe
sneered, getting a heated response from the crowd. “So,
in the interest of fairness, I’m going to tweak the match a
little bit, how about we make it a triple threat? Yep… that sounds
good… but oh dear, we need a third competitor… any suggestions?”
Joe stopped, to survey the crowd, a loud A.D. chant exploded, but
Joe appeared to simply ignore it. “Nothing?
Fair enough then… I shall pick the first name the comes to min… Archangel!” Intense
booing. “Why,
I can think of nobody more deserving, the man who earned his
extreme title through toil and warfare, this man deserves a shot… and
it’s only fair that we pick a deserving man.” Joe stopped, still
being booed. “Oh?
You think that I’m trying to screw LLB or something? That’s
preposterous… why, I have an idea… in the interest of fairness…
who don’t I elect a special referee? YES! That’ll make it all even
Steven; but… we must be sure that we get the right man for the job,
someone noble… true to his heart, neutral… and most importantly… FAIR. Therefore,
I elect myself… Joe Campbell!” Joe roared, the crowd exploding with
boo’s as he tore off his jacket to reveal a black and white striped
referee shirt.
Request from a redhead.
Joe
returned to his office, the
night was young, and already, Joe had completely several “to do”
tasks. He walks into his office, Providence nowhere to be seen. "Hmph,
I wanted some coffee too..." A
letter is on Joe's desk. he sits down in his big comfy office chair, and
picks the letter up. He opens it and reads it outloud...throwing in his
own comments of course. "Dear
Joe, yes
ho? My
name is Gwen O'Reilly a
firecrotch huh?, I'm
writing because I heard there was a few openings in the female division.
yeah,
well...not my favorite subject of discussion I'm
a wee bit lucky
charms guy raise you? interested
in a position at your fantastic fighting promotion. oh
no...sucking up won't work now, we've already established you're a
woman. Nay
shakespeare
now? I'm
very interested in your asylum promotion. yes...wee
bit interested...very interested...same thing happens...I ignore you, heh I
hold a good amount of records and wins in Ireland where I fought
underground. you
can't do much fighting underground...it's mighty dirty I'm
hoping you'll reply with a phone number or an address I can go to for an
audition or...well...please reply. Sure...will
do... not Hopeful,
Gwen
O'reilly"
Hometown Nostalgia.
“Isn’t
it amazing, Drake?” Clayton asked as he opened up a large garbage bag. “Huh?”
Drake said as he picked up a few objects from the back of the boiler
room. “Yeah, sure.” “C’mon…
Drake.” Clayton said with a smile. He looked around the boiler room
reminiscently. “This is where we got our start. This is where our
careers were born!” “The
boiler room?” Drake said as he threw a few objects into the garbage
bag Clayton was holding. Clayton
glared at Drake. “… The Pontiac Silverdome, man. You know how
special this place is.” “Yeah,
and this is also Motown.” Drake threw a few tools into the garbage bag
and looked at Clayton. “This is where we grew up, and all that
blah-blah sentimental bullcrap. I could really care less, Clay. Detroit
treated us like shit, and you know it. I don’t understand why you’re
getting so fuckin’ nostalgic.” Clayton
sighed. “Always the pessimistic one, huh, Drake?” “I’m
the realistic one. I couldn’t care less where we’re fighting
tonight. South Africa would be just fine, so long as I get to go out
there and fuck those two bastards up. A Syndication ass-kicking session
has been long overdue.” “Amen
to that.” Clayton said with a smirk as Drake placed a few more items
into the bag. Clayton
swung the garbage bag over his shoulder and made his way towards the
door with Drake.
Yes.
It was time for two girls to fight and the winner to kiss the
other's....snatch.... ...or
something... Who's
idea was this? Oh, yeah...Akha. "Unified"
By Biohazard hit. And following it was the ugly, evil, angry,
angst-filled dike that was known as Akha. Of course the crowd didn't
like these traits in a female fighter so, the bitch got booed. "Army
of Me" By Bjork feat. Skunk Anansie. Busty, Beautiful, Quick-witted
and incredibly violent. Contessa, all that the fans in the Asylum wanted
out of a female fighter. So of course as our lady of pain grabbed a
microphone, the crowd stopped their gleeful cheering and let her speak. "Akha,
Akha, Akha....did you think I'd just let you make up ALL the fucking
rules as we went along? I’ mean seriously? "Kiss my snatch"
did you think you were "KEWL" when you came up with that?
Listen, hoe. This isn't the WWF...which means...no cheap ass cliché
names for matches. And why "Kiss my snatch"? You're telling me
out of all the girls in the Movement...you're the ONLY ONE that Nerva
doesn't fuck? Cry.
Cry. So fucking sad. I
know bitch like you Akha. You get raped by some guy...then you flip out
and use it as an excuse to declare war on man. Like you're some fucking
hero. Girlfriend, lemme tell you...you aren't COOL. You aren't a hero.
You're just some disgruntled bitch that ain't gettin' any dick. Serious,
as much as us women would like to pretend that we don't need men. We're
wrong. We need men. Men need us. HELLO? That's why the pee-pee fits so
easily into our steaming wet hot-boxes? HELLO? Peh, my words are lost on
you. But there is another way to communicate. Violence."
Hey,
a pop for that. "Ah,
yes...Violence. Now, while you got to choose the end match stip. I think
I will be choosing the in-match stip. With a little cock sucking for Joe
he has invested the power in me to make this match...an EXTREME match.
So, without further adieu...Steel chair please." Contessa
was handed a steelchair from an official and made her way to the ring.
The now wary Akha kept her distance from Contessa and the steelchair...Contessa
entered the Asylum and made a charge at Akha with the steelchair! A
swing and a miss! Contessa turned around only to have the steelchair
kicked into her face with one of Akha amazing kicks! The crowd gasped
upon the teeth rattling impact. Akha took advantage with some hard kicks
to the ribs and some stomps to the back. Akha snatched the steelchair
and leveled Contessa with a chairshots! Across the back and the head
Contessa did all she could to get away. Akha
spit into the crowd like a monster and pulled Contessa up, lifting her
over her head in a military press and throwing her clear out of the
ring! The crowd booed Akha because well...she was ugly and she was
winning. Contessa
slowly got to her feet as Akha made it to the outside and had begun her
attack. Akha threw several punches Contessa's way and Contessa took all
of them on the face. This didn't look good. Contessa block a punch that
swung too wide and only caught a head-butt for her troubles. With that
Akha followed up with several knees to the gut and an slicing elbow
strike to the temple. Akha
laughed a demon's laugh and dragged Contessa backstage by the hair
kicking and screaming. Oooo...a
popcorn stand. Akha
pulled Contessa to her feet, but Contessa...being cool and smart and
everything just pulled Akha's boxing shorts down and followed up with
body blows and thigh kicks. Akha swung wide again...something she has
been doing the whole fight...and missed. Contessa slipped up behind Akha
who was now facing the popcorn stand and grabbed the kickboxing champion
by the back of her head ramming it through the glass into the popcorn
machine! The
fan surrounded them with cheers and Contessa reached up into the cart
and grabbed the heated butter. Pulling down Akha's panties she poured
the butter all over her ass!! Akha screamed as the artificial buttery
topping leak all the way to her as crack like a searing lake of fire
that hurts!! Akha
tried to get out of popcorn machine. But guess what? She was stuck. What
a site. An Ugly naked woman, bloody from the glass
cuts...ass-out...covered in button and practically crying. Contessa
knew what she must do. Walking
over to a T-shirt stand she ripped the steelchair that the attendant was
sitting on and made her way over to Akha. WHAM.
Chair shot to the back. WHAM.
Chair shot to the ass. WHAM.
Back. WHAM.
Ass. WHAM.
Back. WHAM.
Ass. WHAM.
Back. Wiping
the sweat from her forehead she looks down the jagged staircase that
Akha had just dragged her up a few minutes prior and with a smile. She
grabbed Akha’s legs and rotated her towards the stair....and with a
push...she pushed her down the stairs!! The crowd went wild and the ref
counted. 1.
10.
Winner: Contessa via Knockout
Kiss my snatch!
Both
of them met in the ring again. Contessa looking a bit worse for wear but
other wise alright. Noticeably wearing a pair of black shorts. And
Akha... Well...she
wasn't doing so well. "Well,
it's time to kiss my snatch....per the agreement!!" Being
an honorable person evil dyke. She dropped to her knees...and inched
closer to Contessa shorts. Contessa smiled...looked around and pulled
her pants down. Only
to reveal. A
strap on dildo. Akha
cried out and looked up at Contessa...and before she could protest
Contessa was trying to force the dildo into Akha’s mouth. Akha bit
down to the strap on and ripped it off.... The
crowd went wild as Contessa cleanly shaven neither region was in full
view. She didn't seem to care though. "Ok,
Ok....you want my snatch so bad...you can kiss it." Akha
brought her face close to Contessa's Vagina.... *trickle,
trickle* Akha
realized she was tasting Contessa's urine. "HAHA...How's
it taste?" Akha
angrily wiped away the urine and frowned...about to get incredibly
violent...but not before Contessa could fully step out of the shorts and
lock Akha in the Auto Erotic Bloom until Akha passed out.
Added Stipulation!
"Dead"
sat in his locker room, preparing for his match against the Boston
Strangler. He knew only too well what kind of a man the Strangler was. Well,
I guess he does. But
then, a knock on the door. Dead goes over and answers it, but the person
at the other side of the door can't be seen, due to the camera angle. "Ah,
Paul, what do you want?" "We
were thinking... let's have a career match!" Dead
scratched his chin in thought, before he smiled rather evilly. "Yes!
Let's!" The sound of an open palm slapping a forehead could be heard. "Wait a second, we just thought of something." "What?
What is it?!" Dead asked. "We
can't. This is our first confrontation. It wouldn't make sense for us to
have a career match if it's our first." Dead
shook his head in disgust. "What
kind of drugs are you on, Paul!? We've been fighting for months!
Where are you taking your match buildup lessons? erØn?!" There
was the sound of shoulder shrugging. "We'll see you in the ring, Dead."
"Right.
But you're DED in the ring, Paul."
Tease.
Steve
knew the deal going in. Hypnosis was proud, he had something to prove.
But he hadn't fought one-on-one in months. Use the height. Use the
speed. Knock HIS stupid Diddy-loving ass the fuck out....The door. Who
the fuck wanted to see him? Unless it was that dream where the Olsen
twins came in wearing Catholic schoolgirl outfits... "Hi,
Steve." NOT the Olsen twins. It never was. Stupid world. "Well,
well, well, if it isn't Crouching Tiger Hidden Lesbian. Why the fuck are
you here? More importantly, how do you want to be buried?" "Steve,
calm down. I just want to talk." "Sure,
you do, hypocrite. Next thing I know your buddies and Lorena Bobbit have
decapitated White Thunder. No, thanks. See, I know you're not important
enough for the PPV, but I have a match. A m a t c h. You remember those?
Those things you always lost? So in the immortal words of a man wiser
than I, 'get to steppin', bitch.'" "Whoa,
whoa, can't we just talk this out?" Lotus approached Steve and
circles around him while playing with his short hair. On his head. Yeesh.
"I mean...I don't even think you know the real me. I mean...you
think I'm a lesbian?" "Considering
you joined the Pink Triangle Alliance? Yes. I must be on those wacky
drugs where I see what's right in front of me. Stop touching me."
Way to be strong, man! "This is a set-up or a plot or a scam, and
the only thing keeping me from turning into Ike Turner is the fact
beating Hypnosis makes me a somebody in Asylum, never-was." "I'm
sorry Steve, I think we just got off on the wrong foot. I must've went
off as some uptight Movement bitch. I just joined the Movement to learn
from Nerva," Lotus blows into Steve's ear and perches a leg over
his lap. "I mean, can't we both take care of Hypnosis? Why can't we
be friends?' And
Christ's mind got to running. Uh-oh.
Breach of the ear. Breach of the ear. We've got problems! Keep it
together. You know this bitch is out to get you. They're all out to, but
she's all subtle. UNSEXY THOUGHTS! Ah, The Simpsons. One thing the
bottom-feeders got right. What's unsexy... right? ...The
View masterbating. Oh, EW!
Steve
showed some slight unease on his face, but righted it into a smile.
"Keep talking..." Celine
Dion. Eh...Stephanie McMahon being noisy during an orgasm....oh, up
comes the grilled.... Lotus
begins to caress Steve's ear and sits on top of his lap, than she begins
sucking on his neck while rhytmically rotating her hips across his
private area. DEFCON
1! DEFCON 1! MAYDAY! MAYDAY! "Oh,
Steve, what's that poking?" Crap,
the missile is out of the silo. "I
believe the technical term is say hello to my larger-than-average
friend." CHEWBACCA
RAPING BARNEY! CHEWBACCA RAPING BARNEY! The noises!
The
about-to-heave look reintroduced itself to Steve's face. "Steve..."
Lotus says while continuing her lapdance. "Did I tell you I'm a
virgin?" "What,
like a VIRGIN virgin or you-must-have-a-pussy-to-get-on-this-ride
virgin?" Good
one! Oh, my Steve. What is Chewbacca doing?! He's got...he's got...
HE'S
GOT A STRAP-ON! FOR
THE LOVE OF STEVE, MAKE HIM SHUT UP! MAKE
HIM SHUT UP!
BBBBBRRRRRRRAWWWWWGGGGHHHHH! "Virgin
virgin Steve," Lotus says. "You're making me so...horny."
It's
not working! BAIL!
BAIL! BAIL! Steve's
eyes were rolling around in the back of his head, and he could smell the
strawberries on her breath... Oh,
my. The
runner was running third. The coach was trying to wave him off. The
runner saw nothing. He was coming for home plate at full speed... "Okay,
that's enough." Lotus says as she hops off. "Fuck you,
pervert, I'll meet you in the ring." Lotus turns her back and
leaves Steve Christ sitting in his chair, with penis still erect.
Staring at a swinging door. And
then, from the cavernous Silverdome, erupted a profanity that was so
loud people in the crowd heard it:
This
was certainly different. This
was a match that took place in the 2000 fWo Cyberslam, but with the same
stipulations as the 2000 fWo pay-per-view, Redemption. First blood,
knockout, and submission were all legal. Perfect was the guest referee.
Both of their careers were on the line in this match, as well. The
ring announcer introduced the special guest referee. "Ladies
and gentlemen, the special guest referee for this match. He is a former
fifty-seven time eff Dubya oh World champion, he is the World's Greatest
Athlete, the World's Strongest Man, the World's Most Beautiful Man, the
Greatest of All Time, the Legends Among Legends, he is Terry Funk's
daddy, he can juggle quite well, the girls want his manhood, he eats
souls, he devours flesh, he can play air guitar with the best of them,
he played for the Florida Marlins, he is the undisputed master of the
headlock, the sultan of suplexes, the dictator of DDTs, the professor of
the powerbomb, he is the man, the myth, the legend, the perfectly great,
the personification of perfection, and yes, Doozer steals all of his
nicknames. To make a long story short, it has been my pleasure in
introducing... PERFECT~!"
Well,
that was ridiculously long. "Upside,
inside out! She's livin' la vida loca!" The
crowd instantly groans, as Ricky Martin blared out of the speakers,
signalling the arrival of Perfect. Perfect walked to the ring, wearing
an FtfWo baseball jersey, and looking rather arrogant, as usual. Perfect
walked to the cage and entered it, and waited for the participants of
the match. "Fuck,
fuck, fuck, fuck the fWo! Fuck the fWo!" Cue
the porno music! The
now-familiar entrance of the FtfWo is heard, as "Dead" made
his way to the ring to a mixed reaction from the crowd. Dead was
accompanied by Wilson, who was carrying Oddjob over his shoulder. A fan
threw a milkshake at Dead, but Wilson blocked it with Oddjob. After all,
the milkshake probably would've knocked out Dead. Dead
entered the cage, while Wilson lurked on the outside of the ring
wielding Oddjob. "O
Fortuna". The
orchestra and the choir hit, and the fans erupted. For about five
seconds, because the man that came out was, as you probably would've
expected given the fact that Dead wasn't even Dead, not the
Boston Strangler. O
Fortuna segued into a familiar song for those that followed Legends of
Wrestling. "Yo,
could I get a cold beverage? I need some leverage. It's sunny outside,
some lemonade would be nice." "Cold
Beverages" by G Love and Special Sauce. Eddie
Scott Poser.
Poser...
no, I'm sorry, the Strangler made his way to the ring, Cameraman Mark by
his side. He wore a very obvious red wig, and he wore the same style of
bodysuit the Strangler wore. He walked into the cage, and Perfect
ordered the bell to be rung. And
immediately, the "Strangler" dove at "Dead" for a
leg takedown, but unfortunately for him, he slipped on a nearby banana
peel that had been thrown in the ring by a fan, and he fell on his face.
"Strangler" curled up into a little ball and looked over at
Cameraman Mark for guidance. Cameraman Mark just sort of shrugged, and
Dead took the initative by raining down some punches on the Strangler's
forehead. Both
men fought to the side of the cage and up and over. With the rules in
place, there were no ringouts, and when both men got to their feet, they
stared at one another. Dead charged at the Strangler, but the Strangler
ducked and back body dropped him. Dead clutched his back in pain, before
he ran right back into the Asylum cage. Strangler followed, but Dead had
the banana peel and he threw it into the Strangler's face. Strangler/Poser
wore an expression similar to that of "WTFMF?!" He
charged at Dead/Beef, but he drop toe holded the Strangler into the
Asylum mesh. Perfect seemed to be more of a bystander in this carwreck
than anything else, as he just simply moved out of the way of
everything. Dead turned to Perfect and said something about getting
something, but he was met with a quick low blow by the recovering
Strangler. Now
Dead was the one with the "WTFMF?!" look on his face. Strangler
quickly went for a suplex, but Dead blocked twice, and went for a
gordbuster. But, lo and behold, the spot is botched as one of
Strangler's feet end up catching the rim of the cage, and Strangler
lands face first rather brutally. The Strangler got to his feet, holding
his face in pain, and his wig nearly half-off from the impact. "What
the heck was THAT for?" demanded Strangler/Poser. "Um..."
Dead started, but then he just decked Strangler and turned to Perfect. "Perfect!
Chair! Now!" "A
perfect chair? That would take some ti-" Perfect started, but then
he realized what Dead wanted. "OH! A chair! A chair! Okay!" And
with that, Perfect was handed a chair from Wilson, who in turn, gave it
to Dead. Dead then proceeded to thwack Strangler across the skull. The
chair almost crumbled instantly upon impact, and Dead looks at the
broken chair in amazement. "You
have me a STYROFOAM chair?!" "SINGULAR."
Wilson said in response. "Yeah,
esse, it was the only chair Wilson could find that nobody was sitting
it." Dead
smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand in frustration. He turned
to at least try to drive what's left of the chair into the Strangler's
throat, but the Strangler grabbed the piece at the last second, and
fought to their feet. They had a brief tug-o-war with the piece of the
styrofoam chair, before the styrofoam broke in two and sent Dead and
Strangler into both sides of the Asylum mesh. And
out came Ken War. "hay,
i shuld b in dis mtach!1 im hardkorr!!!11" Dead
stood up, as did the Strangler, as Ken War entered the Asylum mesh. Dead
looked at Strangler. Strangler looked at Perfect. Perfect looked at
Dead. Ken
War charged the Strangler. The Strangler yawned and sidestepped War, and
sent him flying up and over the Asylum. Unfortunately for War, he
couldn't get himself falling in any other way than head first. CRUNCH! And
like that, he was dead again. "Ooh.
I didn't like the sound of that." Strangler said, as he, Perfect,
and Dead glanced over the Asylum rim and saw War's brains splattered
around. "Uhm...
he did it!" Strangler said, pointing at Dead. "What?!"
And
like that, they were back fighting. Strangler shoved Dead chest-first
into the Asylum rim. Dead bounced back and was trapped in a cobra
clutch. It was around this time that Ken War was back on his feet, somehow.
"hay,
u basturd, tat fukin hort!!11" he yelled. He then picked up some of
his brains. "o, so tat's wat mi brians luk like!!111 eye nevr
thoght deyd b so smal tho!1" And
with that, Ken War wandered off, brains at hand. Meanwhile,
back in the cage, Dead dropped down and caught the Strangler with a
jawbreaker. After rubbing his head to calm down some of the pain, before
he caught the Strangler with a high knee, followed up with a kick in the
gut and a DDT! Quickly, Dead went in for the cover. Perfect dropped down
for the count! One.
Two. No. Dead
looked at Perfect. "What,
esse? He kicked out. Sheesh." Dead
shrugged before he continued his assault. He dropped a knee on
Strangler, then Strangler took a forearm shiver and an uppercut. The
Strangler tried to shrug it off and charge Dead, but Dead caught him
with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex that was nearly botched when the
Strangler hit the Asylum mesh and landed almost on top of his head. Probably
more out of habit than anything, the Strangler popped back up to his
feet, only for Dead to clothesline him over the cage rim and to the
outside! ...wait
a second, are we sure that this is the REAL Beef? He's getting in
more offense than usual! Ah,
probably just a blue moon or something. Dead
followed Strangler out to the floor and tried a crossbody block, but
Strangler actually caught him, fumbled him a bit, before he accidently
dropped him on his head. "Um,
oops." was all the Strangler could say, before he picked up Dead
again, who actually looked half-dead at this point, and he contemplated
dropping Dead into the ringpost. Then he glances over at the German
Announce table. THUD! Before
dropping Dead onto it with a fallaway slam. Sort of. Actually, Dead
bounced right off the table, in what was probably a botched spot.
Strangler shrugged and pulled Dead back and nailed a belly-to-belly
suplex onto the table. THUD!
The
table refused to break. The Strangler got to his feet and had a look on
his face similar to "WITFMF?!". He pointed at the table
and go out of the Strangler character and into the Poser character. "You!
You stupid table! You're supposed to break! <b>Break</b>!
The King of Poland DEMANDS YOU TO BREAK!" Still
nothing. "Gaaahhh!!!"
Strangler/Poser screamed, before he grabbed Oddjob out of Wilson's hands
and began to beat the table with it repeatedly. But as he did so, he
didn't notice Wilson getting a head of steam until it was too late. THUD!
Clothesline
From Shanghai. The
Strangler clutched his nuts in pain after the vast impact that only
Wilson/Steve can bring with the ball-smashing Clothesline From Shanghai.
Dead took about a half minute to recover from the horrendous beating
that Strangler gave him, before he dragged Strangler back into the ring
and pinned him. One.
Two. No, sir. Not until you had your green eggs and ham~! Yeah.
Strangler
fought back to his feet, and shoved Dead away. Dead charged Strangler,
who grabbed Dead for a hiptoss. Dead kneed him in the gut and went for
the Pedigree. Unfortunately, this move was botched really horribly when,
while going for the move, Strangler/Poser failed to actually leap with
Dead, so Dead ended up lowblowing himself on Strangler's head. Strangler's
wig came off at this point, obviously revealing that it was, in fact,
Eddie Scott Poser. Dead
held his nuts as the "Strangler" decided to fight back. He
nailed Dead with a short-armed clothesline, then followed up with a
gutwrench powerbomb, staying on for the pin! Perfect dropped down for
the pin. One.
Two. Uh, no? Yeah. No. Shrugging,
the Strangler tossed Dead out of the Asylum cage, but Dead held on and
pulled himself up, ala Ricky Steamboat. Unfortunately for him, he loses
his grip and falls back-first on the outside. Dead quickly recovered,
though, jumped back into the Asylum, kicked the Strangler in the gut,
and broke character by landing the Piebuster. Dead
stood over Strangler and prepared for the most jobberifying move in
sports entertainment. The crowd, who had been pretty much dead for the
entire match, were finally on their feet and actually cheering
Dead. Dead
turned to Perfect. "Dude, they're actually cheering." Perfect
shrugged. "Just do the Epic Dead Drop, esse." "Oh,
alright." With that, Dead ripped his kneepad off and threw it into the crowd, before running into the cage wall. After stopping and rubbing his side in pain in realization that the cage walls had absolutely not give into them, he hopped four times, the last one taking him up and over the Strangler. He did the Macarena, and spun around, but as he did so, he instantly regretted it. The
Strangler was up. Low
blow. Again. Dead
held his nuts in pain, as the Strangler finally decided that enough was
enough, and he went outside and produced a table, which he slid into the
ring. He then climbed into the ring. But this was all the time Dead
needed, as he reached into his mouth and boxed at his uvula with his
index finger. BRRUUUHHH!!! And
with that sound, Dead vomitted all over the Strangler's face! Well, he
tried to, but he ended up vomitting on the Strangler's boots, instead.
The look on Strangler's face seemed to indicate something similar to
"WTFMF!?", but then he pulled out a chickenwing from his back
pocket! BOSTON
MASSACRE~!
Gripping
the crossface chickenwing on Dead, while trying to stuff the real
chickenwing down his throat, the Boston Strangler looked to finish the
job. Dead tried to kick up the cage wall for the old Bret Hart/Steve
Austin finish, but he couldn't quite flip himself up and over, and... CRAAAASHHH!!! ...both
men go through the table that was set up. Both men were down, as Dead
was seated, leaning against half the table, while the Strangler was out
of it, flat on his back. Perfect began the ten count. One.
Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. The
Strangler wasn't moving. Dead hadn't made an effort to get up. Ten.
The
bell rang. This mockery of a match was over, and the fans were
praising whatever deity they prayed to(some of whom prayed to Steve
Christ) that this match was over. It
seemed that Dead had won the match. Perfect
raised him to his feet and held his arm up in the air, in victory. But
as he did so, he pulled out a wiffle ball bat and struck Dead in the
head with it! SPLUT!
Yes.
Splut. Signifying that Dead had been "busted open". In
actuality, it was just with ketchup packets. Perfect unbuttoned his
jersey, revealing "Scott Slugger" on the front and
"#1" on the back. Slugger
giggled and raised his arms, drawing a small pop from the crowd. He then
left the Asylum cage. Hopefully,
just hopefully, the FtfWo experiment was over and done with. Winner: Dead via Knockout
Life or Death?
"Welp
Morrigan, you're with me again, sucks to be you...." Token said,
smiling a devilish smile, he was standing in a doorway, the room
complete darkness, except for the light that came through the doorway. "mmpphh"
was all that could be heard in reply. "Listen
here bitch, the more you struggle, the more pain that will come, I'll
stick this fucking 9 up your fucking cooch, and trust me, this will give
an entire new meaning to popping a girl's cherry," Token snapped
back to the muffled sounds coming from the darkness, no reply followed
what he said though, and Token smiled for a brief moment. "So
you wanted to talk to Caleb ehh? You think he'd help a stupid little
nasty ass whore like yourself?" Token said, throwing a kick into
the darkness, the launching of the kick was followed by a solid thud. "mmmmppphhhh"
came from Morrigan as she struggled again. "Now
listen here you fucking whore, I'll take you to see Caleb, and we'll see
if he fucking cares ok, we'll find out what the fuck he thinks of you,
we'll see if he really does love you, I'll let you kneel in front of me,
my gun placed against the back of your head. I'll let you look into his
eyes, and you can see for yourself that he knows that you betrayed him. Trust
me skank, he knows everything." Token said, in a ranting fashion,
the only answer that he received was the sniffling of Morrigan in the
corner.
Is it over yet?
"Get
'Strangler' in my office..." Joe shouted into an intercom.
"NOW~!" Suddenly,
the front door opened, and standing before him was the man who had
wrestled earlier as the fWo's Boston Strangler. He smiled, before
placing his burger king crown on top of his forehead. "...
who the hell are you!?!?" "Zat's
one of zose wrestlers..." Hans quirped in."from LoW." "Now
that's a half truth." Poser stood firm, his hands on his chest and
his eyes wide. "It was mostly me flailing my arms around wildly
while Fletcher beat the ever living crap out of me. Oh yeah, and lots of
Dance Dance Revolution... wanna
see the King bust a move?" "I'm
not giving you a job." Poser
lowered his head and let out a puppy face, trying to guilt Campbell into
changing his mind. "What
the fuck is that? You think I'm gonna fucken let you in here if you give
me a fucken kiddy face." Campbell got into Poser's face, which made
Poser straighten up. "Fuck you." "Hey!
You're mean~! You shouldn't be so mean!" "Get
the fuck out of my office..."
Free Country? (Part 1)
It
was a bad premonition for things to come. A beaten man dangled from the
ceiling supported by handcuffs. They locked in place around a pipe on
the ceiling cutting deep into his wrists. Darkness had fallen into the
room except in the far corner where the light was shining directly on
the sore man. Wounds were engraved into his skin as he muttered a few
words. Spit dripped onto the floor. “How’s
the weather up there? Huh, what? Your not the dominant sex anymore? Is
that what you said?” The
hidden figure thrashed the man then spoke again, “I’ve been here
awhile. Just observing. Keeping my eyes peeled for anyone who might try
to get in their way. When they finally called me I knew I would join
them. There was no doubt in my mind that I would join the Asylum.” “It’s
time for step two of the plan. Cracking down on the organizations
isn’t enough anymore. I have to do it on a wide scale. I want to crack
some fucking heads open too. But that’s not the point. The point is
that I have the brains to make this work. Yours might end up on the side
of the road when I’m through with you but-“ Again,
the man wheezed from a shot to the kidney. “The
Movement are tired of men. They’re tired of all the cheating, lying,
and fucking around. You are a symbol of that. You are a man. Do you
think because I set up rules that I won’t mess you up? Your dead
wrong. I don’t follow the rules, I make the rules. Hell, even if I did
let you go you’d just end up an abusive father to a little girl. We
better spare that little girl her grief. You’ve kept us down for long
enough. Now it’s your time to do the fucking laundry.” “No…you
can’t do this. What about my rights, this is a free country!” ”Rights?!
You want your rights?! You have the right TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
Driven
together by nothing more than Joe Campbell’s hate… the Providence
and Eddie Cheno saga had become far more personal in recent weeks. One
month ago, Providence picked up what some dubbed a lucky victory over
Eddie Cheno, a last minute error costing Cheno the bout, one month
later… far more water had gone beneath the bridge, and now it truly
was warfare, “Smoke 2 Joints” by Sublime hit the p.a. system, but a
less than jovial Eddie Cheno marched through the curtain, Cheno was
wearing the expression of a serious man, a five o clock shadow gracing
his face, he clambered into the Asylum, not a smile to be seen… and
looked up to the top of the aisle. “Forty
Six and Two” by Tool… now it was Providence’s turn to enter. Not
however, as Cheno expected. Providence
burst from the crowd, coming into the Asylum from behind Cheno, he
blasted him across the back of the head with a vicious fist, doubling
him over, Providence locked in a full nelson and went directly for
“The Cleansing”. Cheno
however had anticipated, putting both of his arms vertically upward, he
was able to slip out of Providence’s grip and twist, catching him
across the chin with a stunning elbow! Providence
stumbled back as Cheno sped in, hitting Providence across the ribs with
a solid knee and then lifting the same knee up into his face as he fell
forth, Cheno grabbed a handful of Providence’s hair, and used it to
hurl him face first into the Asylum mesh, Providence slumped, grabbing
the mesh and trying to stand, he could do nothing to stop Cheno from
grabbing his hair once more, and grinding his face into the mesh,
peeling at his flesh, Providence quickly began to bleed. “How
the fuck do you like the mang?” Cheeno sneered, lifting Cheno and
throwing him down by the hair. Providence
pushed himself up. “About…” Providence
got to his knees. “as
much…” Providence
turned. “as
you…” Providence
clenched his fist, and suddenly struck out. “LIKE
THIS!” Providence snarled, catching Cheno with a wicked punch to the
crown jewels, Cheno’s eyes rolled back into his head as he fell to his
knee’s clutching his groin, but Providence wasn’t done, taking a
grip on Cheno’s hair and pulling him into a headbutt which popped his
nose in a shower of blood. Already,
the canvas was stained red… first
Providence’s head and now Cheno’s nose flowing with blood,
Providence leant over the downed Cheno and sent several wicked rights
and lefts about his head in an attempt to knock him out, Cheno however
used his wrists to block the vast majority of the blows, and finally
escaped via a well placed elbow. Providence
fell back and scrambled away as Cheno staggered to his feet, looked to
regain his bearings, meanwhile… Providence too stood up, still dazed,
he made a desperate lunge toward Cheno… his momentum his own worst
enemy however, as Cheno stepped aside and further propelled Providence,
who momentarily went over and out of the Asylum, before desperately
dragging himself in with his arms. Only
to be subject of some vicious Eddie Cheno kicks, now grounded…
Providence was well and truly exposed, feeling the brunt of several hard
boots from Cheno, he desperately tried to cover and stop them… but the
kicks continued to rain down, Providence finally finding solace in a
caught kick, twisting Cheno’s leg and dropping him to the ground. Seeing
opportunity, Providence leapt up, keeping Cheno down via leaping onto
his chest, sitting there… and mercilessly blasting him about the face
with more punches, the problem with this predicament however, was that
it left Providence susceptible to a counter attack, and counter attacked
he was, Cheno rolling the lock and delivering some stunning blows of his
own, Providence rolled, and the tides turned again, this time however,
Cheno got a solid grip on each of Providence’s wrists and evaded any
punch attempt, another roll evasion by Cheno however, had drastic
consequences! The
Cleansing. Providence
simply allowed Cheno to roll right through, before locking the nearest
arm and reaching over desperately to lock the other, Cheno knew his
predicament however, using the tactic of jabbing his free arm into
Providence, he caught him with a wayward elbow and was able to turn,
catching Providence in a front facelock and standing steadily to his
feet, Providence continued to struggle, punching Cheno in the ribs but
suddenly being stunned, Cheno rushing back and driving Providence’s
skull into the Asylum mesh! One
spin later, Providence was in trouble! SMACK!
A
solid DDT by Cheno to drive Providence’s skull into the canvas, the
two lay motionless as the referee started a count. 1 2 3 4 5 Cheno
had no problem getting up, but couldn’t restrain his own rage, several
kicks to the downed Providence breaking up a very convincing count,
Cheno grabbed another huge handful of Providence’s hair and pulled him
to his feet, a kick to the ribs later, Cheno hoisted him up and
absolutely drilled him with a brainbuster… a variant of “Sucks to be
you”… or simply a prelude? Providence
lay flat out, but Cheno seconds later was dragging him up again, this
time stepping himself backwards, until he was up on the Asylum rim,
trying to take Providence with him. Suddenly
however, Providence’s hand shot out, sweeping Cheno’s feet from
beneath him. CRUNCH!
All
too reminiscent of Mind Games, Cheno fell crotch first against the
Asylum rim, gasping for air, he was prone… and Providence took
advantage, hooking Cheno’s arm and spinning him off the rim at huge
velocity. CRASH!
The
Fall. A
massive Uranage Slam directly into the center of the Asylum, both men
lay motionless… the referee beginning a count, the crowd’s
attentions however… turned to the aisle, and more specifically, booing
the man rushing down it. Joe
Campbell. With
chair. Joe
rushed down to the Asylum as the referee turned, stopping the count and
objecting to Campbell’s presence, Joe however, merely opened up the
chair and sat on it, as Providence and Cheno staggered to their feet in
the background, Cheno’s eyes narrowed… spotting Joe Campbell… he
began to approach him with a verbal confrontation as he sat at
Asylumside. “What
the fuck mang… I…” But Cheno never finished, Joe leapt to his feet
and snapped the chair shut, unleashing a solid swing in a split second. Unfortunately
for Joe, and Providence… it was the same split second in which Cheno
dragged Providence into the way. CRACK!
The
sound of steel connecting with Providence’s skull! He fell face first
on the canvas, as Cheno looked over… choosing not to look a gift horse
in the mouth, he locked in a full nelson on the face down Providence,
and as the referee checked and got no response, a submission victory was
his only choice. Beaten
by his own hold, this would not go down too well. Winner: Eddie Cheno via Submission
Evil Plans.
"Vat?"
said Hans to Adam. Adam was fuming mad at Hans, but Hans played dumb,
smiling at Adam. "HOW
THE FUCK DID YOU ACCEPT THE CHALLENGE?!" yelled Adam at Hans, who
shrugged it off. "Relax...ve
VILL vin...." said Hans, smiling malevolently. "What
do you have in store?" asked a curious Hans. "You
vill have to see, Adam..." said Hans, smiling.
Free Country? (Part 2)
An
unknowing security guard stood watch in one of the hallways. From behind
a corner came a mysterious woman. Her
long black hair hung to her side and she was dressed in a police
uniform. It was questionable if she was really a police officer since
she looked out of place. The officer was so dazzled up to look good that
she lost some of the danger that constantly radiated from her. The
security guard raised his eyebrow at the fine piece of ass standing
before him. His mouth started to water. The officer came close enough
for him to read the plate near her breast that read, “Nicole Carson”
“All
right, your out of here.” she said. “What
do you mean? I have direct orders to patrol this area. Directly given to
me.” Carson
slowly walked toward him, hoping he would brush off. “Please,
move out of the way mam.” Carson
flashed a grin then muttered, “I’m doing this for the better good.
If you don’t move out of my way then your going to have a case of
police brutality on your hands.” The
security guard didn’t flinch. Carson flung herself at him and grasped
a hold of his collar. The hidden fury boiled in her again and the
security guard knew it, but she didn’t let go of him and kept digging
harder. His hands went weak and Carson dropped him to the ground. “Men
are so fickle. Where the fuck is your manhood?”
“Enter
the arena and hit the lights “Crush’
Em” by Megadeth blared throughout the arena as the fans anticipated
the arrival of their tag team champions. Adam Nowell was the first to
come out from behind the curtains with one tag title slung over his
shoulder and carrying a wooden baseball bat in his right hand. He raised
his arm into the air and the fans immediately responded by throwing
various objects at him. Nowell simply smirked and made his way down to
the cage. Following Adam was the German powerhouse, Hans Krueger, carrying an aluminum baseball bat in one hand and his tag team title in the other. The fans let out a roar of boos as Hans turned to the audience and spat toward some random patrons. Hans threw his bat over the top and into the cage as he entered it through the side door. “Fuck
tha’ police comin’ straight from the underground!” The
now-familiar phrase from “Fuck the Police” by Dope resonated
throughout the stadium as the fans stood up to catch a glimpse of the
challengers… the under-dogs… the team that would attempt to overcome
the two psychopaths known as Syndication. Pain & Suffering was up
for that task. Clayton
Richler and Drake Kerrigan both walked out onto the ramp from backstage,
carrying a large garbage bag full of items. The fans reacted with both
cheers of excitement and boos of resentment. Clayton glanced down at two
oddly dressed men in black bowler hats, black shades and black cloaks
sitting near the guardrail. Clayton just smirked and moved on, as it
didn’t look like much was going to affect the team of Pain &
Suffering on this night of great opportunity. Clayton
and Drake looked like they both knew that they would have to overcome
their own personal differences if they planned on taking home what
they’ve been striving for all this time, the Asylum tag team titles. The
stage, or in this case… a 4 foot long mesh cage, 10 meters in
diameter, is set. No love has been lost between these two teams; after
months of climbing the ranks of the Asylum, P&S have finally got
Syndication in their sights … the moment of truth has finally arrived.
As
Clayton and Drake entered the cage, they emptied the garbage bag in the
middle of the cage and tossed it to the side. Random ‘goodies’…
mostly of the sharp, metallic variety fell out of the garbage bag. The
bulky referee approached Clayton and Drake. “This is getting a little
out of hand, don’t you think? Maybe you sh--” “SHUT
THE FUCK UP!” Clayton and Drake yelled simultaneously. Clayton stepped
forward and looked down at the ref. “This is our match, okay… buddy?
I’d advise you to just step aside and do your counting when the time
comes.” The
referee simply shook his head, backed off and stood in the corner of the
cage, knowing that this match was going to be a doozie. Clayton
quickly knelt down, not taking his eyes off of Hans or Adam and picked
up some nun-chucks from the pile. Drake picked up a pair of brass
knuckles and slid them onto his right hand. Clayton,
Drake, Hans, and Adam then began to approach each other, showdown style.
They stopped in the middle of the cage. Hans looked at Pain &
Suffering’s weapons. “Vat are you two, ninja warriors?” Hans
chuckled. “Shut
the fuck up, you filthy kraut.” Clayton said. “I’LL
KILL YOU!!!” Hans shouted as he hammered the butt of his aluminum
baseball bat into Clayton’s rib cage; Clayton dropped his nun-chucks
and fell down to the mat immediately. Adam went to do the same to Drake,
but Drake countered by grabbing the bat and cracking his brass knuckles
against Adam’s forehead with a hard right hook. Adam
fell down to the mat; blood began to gush out of his forehead already.
Drake smiled at the sight of red and began to stomp on Adam’s body
relentlessly. On the other side of the cage, Hans had Clayton tightly
locked in a camel clutch. Clayton tried to pry Hans’ hands loose, but
it was no use. Hans smiled psychotically as he leaned back further and
further, but the hold was finally broken when Drake cracked the
nun-chucks over the base of Hans’ skull. Hans
dropped to the mat and began to roll around in pain while holding his
head. Drake turned around and tried to attack Adam with the nun-chucks
as well, but he received a baseball bat shot to his gut instead. Drake
keeled over, and Adam drove him down to the mat with a vicious
knee-lift. Clayton
tried to get up and help his partner, but Hans tripped him up by
grabbing his foot. 1…
2…
The
referee began the count on Drake Kerrigan. 3…
“HIT
HIM SOME MORE!” Hans shouted at Adam, who was hovering over Drake. 4…
Drake
got up on his knees, and just before Adam could nail him over the skull
with his wooden bat, Drake connected with a low blow. Adam dropped the
bat and fell down to the mat, holding his groin in pain as the demented
Asylum fans laughed and cheered whole-heartedly. Clayton
got back up and kicked Hans directly in the face. He hauled Hans up to
his feet and catapulted him into the cage meshing. Hans sprung backwards
and Clayton grabbed him from behind, throwing him into the opposite side
of the cage with a release German suplex. “Your shitty country
actually invented some half-decent moves after all, Krueger…”
Clayton mumbled as he got to his feet. Drake
had Adam pressed up against the cage meshing and was pounding on
Adam’s head with his brass knuckles, directly onto the open forehead
wound. Adam gasped in pain as Drake squeezed his throat and nailed him
with a choke slam. Clayton
walked back over to the pile of random weaponry lying in the corner of
the cage. He picked up a plastic baggy full of thumbtacks, ripped it
open, and dumped all of the tacks in the center of the cage. He then
walked back over to Hans and hauled him up by the hair. Clayton nailed
Hans with a snap suplex directly onto the thumbtacks. Hans screamed in
pain as the fans cheered loudly. Clayton looked over at Drake. “BARELY
LEGAL!” He shouted, calling for their tag team finisher. “It’s
too early, man...” Drake said as he continued to choke Adam. “Let’s
end this right now!” Clayton yelled as he began to climb up to the top
of the cage. “C’mon… powerbomb Krueger, damnit!” “NOT
YET!” Drake shouted up at Clayton, but their argument had wasted too
much time. Hans had struggled back to his feet in time to throw himself
up against the side of the cage, sending Clayton tumbling over the top
and back into the center of the cage, landing back-first onto the rest
of the tacks. The fans popped loudly at the explicit violence they were
seeing. Hans
then ran over to Drake and kicked him in the face, finally breaking his
choke hold off of Adam. The kick had caused Drake to start bleeding
profusely from his nose. The referee looked at the mat of the cage, now
covered with blood. He appeared to be contemplating whether to end the
match, but luckily decided against it. Adam picked Drake up and slung
him against the cage meshing. Drake catapulted backwards, only to have a
Yakuza kick driven into his back, courtesy of Hans Krueger. Adam
signalled to Hans, and Hans picked Drake back up by his hair. Hans
kicked Drake in the gut as Adam walked around and nailed him with a
T-bone suplex directly onto the aluminum baseball bat. The referee once
again began the count. 1…
2…
Clayton
stood back up and began to pick some of the tacks out of his backside. 3…
Adam
and Hans ran at him with a double-clothesline, but Clayton ducked and
nailed both of them with a double-arm clothesline instead. Clayton then
ran over to Drake and helped him get back up. “Drake, there’s no
time to argue here, man! Let’s finish this!” Clayton said as Drake
simply nodded his head and walked over to where Adam was. He picked Adam
up and nailed him with a sidewalk slam. Clayton
picked up two wrenches from the pile of weaponry in the corner and threw
one over to Drake. Drake caught it and slammed it against Adam’s skull
as the fans cheered in excitement. Hans got back up and took a run at
Clayton, knocking him down with a gut kick. “It’s time to finish you
off, <I>mein herr</I>...” Hans told Clayton as he hauled
him up by the hair. In
the corner, Drake had Adam set up in a powerbomb position. He suddenly
hauled Adam up and slammed the back of his head off the base of his
kneecap, completing his finisher “The Wasting”. Adam collapsed to
the mat, unconscious. Meanwhile, Hans nailed Clayton with a devastating
modified crescent kick to the back of his head AKA the “Dresden
Powerhouse”. The referee looked around the cage confusedly, unsure of
which unconscious fighter he should make the count on. Just
as Hans and Drake ran at each other and began to brawl it out, the two
men mysterious-looking men dressed in all black that Clayton had noticed
in the audience earlier suddenly began to climb up the cage meshing.
Both of the men demonstrated acrobatic skills by flipping over the top
and landing inside of the cage. Suddenly, the two men threw off their
bowler hats and their shades, revealing themselves as Miyabita Hiryuu
and Itsu Kontan; The Silent Assassins. They
reached under their black cloaks and hauled out two long kendo sticks.
Hans and Drake simply looked on in puzzlement as the referee tried to
stop The Silent Assassins, but he was quickly taken down with a series
of kendo stick shots to the body. “Vat
the fuck do you two imbeciles want?” Hans questioned. Itsu
and Miyabita simply glared at Drake and Hans, with no response. “You
pricks don’t realize what you’re doing, do you!?” Drake yelled.
“You don’t want any of this!” Hans
and Drake then ran at Miyabita and Itsu, but their tired bodies
couldn’t contend with the quickness and agility of the Assassins. Itsu
cracked his kendo stick across Drake’s head, and then nailed him down
to the mat with a leg sweep. Miyabita also cracked his kendo stick
against Hans’ head, and then followed up with a resounding roundhouse
kick. The fans in the arena booed without restraint as The Silent
Assassins began to viciously beat away on Drake, Hans, and even the
unconscious Clayton and Adam with their kendo sticks. Itsu
dropped his kendo stick, picked Hans up and threw him towards Miyabita,
where Miyabita nailed Hans in the face with a vicious palm thrust,
causing him to bleed profusely from the nose. Itsu then picked the
already-bloody Drake up off the mat and administered a heart punch to
him. Drake dropped to the mat, holding his chest in pain. Itsu then
walked around to the back of Drake and performed a neck snap on him as
Miyabita picked Hans up once again, and nailed him back down to the mat
with an amazing spinning heel kick. Finally,
The Silent Assassins decided to leave the blood bath. The whole mat of
the cage had taken on a look of crimson red. Itsu and Miyabita exited
through the door, and on their way back up the ramp, Miyabita grabbed a
microphone. He and Itsu got to the top of the ramp and turned back
around to face the cage. "Bakamono!"
Miyabita yelled into the mic. "Nao kanarazushimo za shuuryou!"
Translation:
“Stupid persons… Not the end ... Not yet the end" Winners: No Contest
Choice: Life.
The
same small closet, the same two people inside, the same darkness, the
same silhouette appearing. This time though, a long strap was clutched
in his fists. "Come
here little girl, you want to act like a bitch, your getting tied up
like one," Token said as he put the leash around Morrigan's neck. "Crawl
bitch, crawl," Token said, ending the last few words with a laugh. "Mmmmppphhh,"
was all that came as a reply, slowly but surely Morrigan began to move
forward though and crawl out into the light of the doorway. "Woman
you know where we're going, you know who's locker room I want you to go
to, now get moving," Token smiled as he watched Morrigan crawl
along on the hard concrete floor, slowly he reached into his jeans and
pulled out his 9mm pressing it against Morrigan's head, he slowly leant
down by her ear and whispered…
Slowly
Morrigan crawled forward, ever so slowly, her knee's hurt, her head
hurt, her neck hurt, she just flat out hurt. She
looked backwards into the steel blue eyes of Token Weed, she could see
he had another plan than just killing her, she knew it. But
she couldn't do a damned thing about it. "Listen
bitch, crawl up to the door and smack your head against it three times,
you got it?" Token said, his demeanor completely serious, his eyes
focused steadily on the door. Morrigan
nodded her head and crawled forward, tapping the door with her head
lightly three times. Token looked on, in complete anger, he quickly
pounced on her, grabbing her by the hair and smacking her head off the
door, each time denting it in farther. "Stupid
bitch," Token said, as he pulled the semi-conscious Morrigan over
to a pipe in the wall, tying the leash around it, he then pulled the
tape off her mouth and stood beside her. "Tell
him what you want to tell him, it may let you die in peace," Token
said, his eyes still focused on the door. His thoughts pondering what he
would do if Caleb walked out, he played through every given scenario. And
in every scenario he won. Token
stood watching the door as the handle turned, and Azrael stepped out of
his dressing room into the hall way, he looked down at Morri, the leash
wrapped around her neck, the side of her head slightly bleeding, both of
her eyes blackened. He took a step forward as if to help her, but
quickly Token pointed the gun to Morrigan's head. "Caleb,
stay right there, you move one muscle I'll kill her then you, got
me?," Token said, as Caleb looked at Token and nodded. "Now
bitch, do that new trick I taught you, speak, then I'll teach you how to
play dead," Token said, as Morrigan swallowed deeply. "Listen Azrael, I know you don't want to hear me speak..." Morrigan began to apologize, but was quickly cut off. "Damn
right I don't want to hear you fucking speak, you slept with Sean you
stupid fucking whore, I don't even know why I decided to trust you, I
knew I'd get hurt, deep down inside I knew it, I could feel it, now I'm
done with you, Sean do what you want with her," Azrael said
harshly, each word breaking Morrigan's spirit a little bit more, each
word like a bullet piercing her in a different spot. Morrigan looked up,
looking at Caleb, who just turned around and began walking down the
hallway. Morrigan
began to whisper through her tears, "He
raped me Azrael," Instantly
Azrael's head snapped back looking at Morri, then at the gun hammer
clicking backwards, that's when Morrigan screamed. "HE
FUCKING RAPED ME AZRAEL! HE SLIPPED SOMETHING IN MY DRINK, CARRIED ME
BACK TO THE ROOM AND SAT THERE AND RAPED ME!" Morrigan shouted,
tears pouring down her face, Azrael turned around looking at Sean, anger
filling his heart, fear filling his mind. Why?
Because
Token had the 9mm. focused directly at Azrael's head. But
that didn't last very long. Why?
Because
Morrigan acquired a taste for Token's flesh after all, biting his leg as
hard as she could, causing Token to drop the gun. Quickly
Azrael pounced on Token Weed throwing fist after fist into his face,
rocking him backwards into the concrete wall. Azrael, trying to end the
fight quickly delivered a sharp throat thrust sending Token to the
ground holding his neck. Azrael quickly turned around and began to untie
Morrigan. Token
lifted himself off the cold concrete and lunged over to the gun,
pointing it at Azrael. "You
untie that fucking knot I'll put a hole in your head!" Token
shouted at Azrael, who instantly dropped the leather strap and stood
perfectly still. Token began walking over towards Azrael, holding the
gun out, the barrel pointed directly between Az's eyes. Slowly Token
circled Azrael, finally placing the gun on the back of Azrael's head. "You
know what they say about cowards Caleb?" Token asked, looking
directly at the back of Caleb's head, every long hair pushed to the side
by the cold steel. "They
get shot in the back, do you want to die like a coward Caleb?"
Token once again asked, as Caleb's hands twitched into two fists. "Fuck
you," Caleb said, lifting his leg up backwards, kicking Token in
the groin, and once again the gun dropped to the ground with a clatter.
Instantly the two men dove for it, fists flying in the process, each man
striking the other numerous times all over the body, neither gaining an
edge. Finally Caleb made a final lunge for the gun, but the second his
fingers touched the smooth grips, the gun disappeared from his hands,
and scooting down the hallway from Token diving into Azrael's hands. Token
clawed his way to the top position, launching a flurry of punches, each
one connecting with a different part of Azrael's face, each punch trying
to take the man out who could kill him, each one getting closer and
closer to getting the job done. Token
feeling satisfied stood up and began stumbling over towards the gun,
each step, a step closer to continuing his life, each moment a tick on
the clock of life, that was about to run out for one of the individuals.
Token
reached down, reaching for the key to life, the key to the final
victory, to grasp into his hands... nothing. A large clash could be
heard as the gun rattled off the door a few feet down, and another thud
as Azrael fell over after using his last bit of energy to kick the gun
away from Token. Token
turned around, looking at Azrael, who was kneeling down shaking his head
back and forth clearing the cobwebs from his skull. Token delivered a
kick to Azrael's face sending him flying onto his back. Token kicked
Azrael in the head again, and again... finally he stopped when he heard
screaming from a few feet away. "SECURITY!
HELP!" Morrigan was shouting, over and over again, her calls were
silenced by a smack to the mouth, then a knee to the face from Token
Weed, as he turned to go back to fighting Azrael, he was met by a fist
to the face, followed by three more to the stomach which doubled him
over. Azrael grabbed Token by the hair walking him over to the door and
smacking his head off of it three times before picking the gun up and
pointing it at Token's temple. "The
balls in my court now Sean," Azrael said out loud, Azrael's finger
itched on the trigger, he wanted to pull it back, let Token's brains
come out the other side of his head and splatter across the wall.... "Too
bad the safety's on," Token said, as he delivered a punch to
Azrael's stomach followed by an axe kick knocking Azrael to the ground,
but Azrael still held onto the gun. Token grabbed Azrael by the hair,
and banged his head off of the door handle causing it to open. He
quickly threw Azrael into the middle of the street. But
Azrael was smart enough to grab Token by the shirt collar and drag him
out into the middle of the road with him. Both men landed solidly on the
damp pavement from the rain, both looked across the street and watched
the gun slide over next to the curb. Instantly both men leapt up and
made a dive for the gun. BAM!
BAM!
Two
shots fired.... Neither
man hit. Azrael
had picked up the gun first but in the struggle Token had pulled the
trigger while the gun faced into the air. Finally the two dropped the
gun, once again both men watched as it slid up against the door to a
bar. Both men looked at each other and went back to throwing fists,
feet, elbows, anything at each other. Finally both men exhausted rolled
away, trying to stand up. They
both staggered to their feet, Token went after Azrael swinging wildly,
but Azrael ducked and followed up by kicking Token in the stomach and
dropping him to the solid concrete sidewalk with the "Shadow Fall
DDT." Azrael instantly stumbled over to the wall of the bar,
leaning against it trying to compose himself. Azrael bends down and
lifts Token to his feet by the hair. Azrael
pulled his arm back and let it rip, decking Token across the jaw.
Token's head instantly snapped side ways, Azrael followed it up with two
more right hands, then a left hook sending Token staggering backwards,
only a few feet from the road. Token finally comes around a bit, and
flinging his wet hair out of his eyes, as the two stood on the sidewalk
staring each other down... Token's
head was bleeding, causing his usually blond and blue hair to have
streaks of crimson red running through it, Azrael's left eye was
severely swollen, and he was bleeding from his nose, letting the crimson
run down his face and spill over onto his lips. Azrael
let his arm rip again, but Token blocked the blow and delivered a solid
right to Azrael's face. BAM!
Pumpkick...
Azrael
hadn't even had the slightest idea it was coming, and the next thing he
knew he was laying on a bed of broken glass. He could feel every little
prick of every little shard of glass poking into his back, the back of
his head, his legs, his arms... everywhere he could feel broken glass. Finally
Token Weed stepped through the broken window, gun in hand. Token stepped
forward to point blank range, and aimed the gun at Azrael's head. "Time
for you to say bye bye to Morri, Caleb, and say hello to satan,"
Token said as he walked closer, looking at the semi-conscious Azrael. "You
know I can't miss from here right? Just making sure you..." Token
was stunned, as Azrael's leg shot up, and kicked the gun away from him
over to a set of stairs behind the bar. As Token watched it, he suddenly
felt a searing pain in his groin from an Azrael kick. Token
stumbled over to the bar, leaning against it, as Azrael slowly worked
his way to his feet, he bent down and picked up a large shard of glass.
He stepped forward and spun Token around cutting him down the cheek with
the glass. Azrael went in for the kill, swinging the glass by Token's
neck. Token quickly jumped backwards, over the bar, and rolled up to his
feet. Azrael
leapt over the bar, and swung at Token with the shard of glass cutting
him across his chest this time, as Token let out a scream in pain Azrael
dropped the glass and delivered two solid fists to his face, knocking
Token back into the stairs. Instantly
Azrael's onslaught stopped as once again the gun was found to be in the
hands of Token Weed, once again pointing in between Azrael's eyes. "Walk,"
were the only words Token said as he circled behind Azrael and pointed
to the stairs. Azrael nodded and slowly began the walk: the walk he
thought would end his life on earth. After walking up two sets of
stairs, they came to a door... "Open
it, and walk out up onto the roof," Token instructed, and Azrael
did like he was told and opened the door, walking up onto the roof, back
into the rain, the wind, all of the elements. "On
your knees," Token instructed, once more Azrael listened, at this
point he didn't care, he knew everything was hopeless, he knew he was
going to die. Azrael closed his eyes as he felt the cold steel press
against the back of his head once again. "Any
last words?" Token asked, Azrael gave a sigh and replied slowly. "Besides
wishing I hadn't done anything when Morri told me you raped her, besides
wishing I hadn't..." Azrael was interrupted. "Times
u..." Token was once more interrupted, this time by Azrael sliding
out of the way of the gun, following it up with a trip that knocked
Token to the roof of the building, as the gun was quickly snatched up by
Azrael. Token
instantly rolled away from Azrael, standing up, behind him an alley, to
his right the arena, to his left another alley. Token looked up at
Azrael... "Fucking
shoot me, get it over with," Token said confidently, he knew Azrael
wouldn't pull the trigger, he knew it in the pit of the stomach.... BAM!
He
was wrong, Token's shoulder instantly flinched backwards, as he let out
an ear-piercing scream, followed by another shot. BAM!
This
one drilled Token square in the chest, the force of the shot sent Token
flying off the building. Azrael
held the gun in his hand, he looked it over. "One
piece of metal could end a war, one fucking piece of metal," Azrael
said, as he set the gun down on the top of the roof, Azrael took a deep
breath in, then exhaled it. "It's
over... it's finally over, all this shit with shooting people, all of
this hell, it's finished," Azrael said as he opened the door to the
roof, and walked off down the stairs. Winner:
Azrael Ravenell
Three
people who don’t like each other. It
was going to be very interesting. “Survival"
by Double Edge Crew played throughout the Asylum arena. The large
speakers were quickly drowned out however with the appearance of
Hypnosis himself, stepping out into the spotlight which was his.
Hypnosis walked down the ramp towards the Asylum cage and cheered the
crowd that loved him, because certainly in 21Wrestling it was a place
that hated him. Steve
Christ made his way from backstage, to the stage where he stood in a
crucified pose to mock the fans. Christ was an interesting story at the
least. Hypnosis had picked a fight with him, he accepted. He had hurt
Lotus’ pride and she picked a fight with him, he accepted. Now he has
two people in the asylum ready to rip him to pieces. He accepts it
willingly, because in his ignorant mind either he didn’t get it or he
was too stupid to realize his situation. Hypnosis
and Lotus quickly jumped at Christ, it wasn’t planned it just
happened. Hypnosis flew in with a hard closed fist right hand that
connected with the front of Christ’s face while Lotus connected with a
roundhouse kick to the back of Christ’s head. The impact was weak
however because of his slick movement trying to avoid both at the same
time. It
made a small noise which only the front row people could hear. Christ
fell to the side and jumped out of the way of Lotus’ rising kick. It
had seemed like a two on one until Hypnosis stepped in front of Lotus
trying to take care of Christ but received a large push from behind into
Christ’s uppercut. Hypnosis
fell back looking at Lotus and said, “fuUK?” Christ
after delivering the uppercut had jumped to his feet and he blocked
another swift and quick kick from Lotus and was cornered. And blocked
and blocked, and blocked. His forearms were getting quite sore from the
impact but as Lotus winded up for what probably was a devastating kick,
Christ quickly grabbed Lotus’ head and threw her across the Asylum
cage. She
quickly got up however and all three fighters were standing in a
triangle now. Hypnosis grinned and hesitated a move, quickly Christ and
Lotus flinched as well. Mind games, all mind games. Finally Hypnosis
screamed and ran to the middle following Christ as they began trading
fist for fist, until Lotus came in full of adrenaline executing a
Chinese-movie-like kick where she fist kicked Christ, than used him as
leverage to do a side-winding kick to Hypnosis. Hypnosis
fell back, however Christ was only stunned, he grabbed Lotus from behind
after she landed on her feet after the kick, but than felt a stabbing
pain in his gut. “What the fuck?” Christ thought to himself. Lotus
tried to squirm free but couldn’t, Christ tightened the grip on her
and Lotus did a kick over her shoulder and hit Christ in the face. Christ
continued to hold on and than lifted Lotus up, than throwing her down
against the mat. As
Christ stood there over the two bodies, he felt the stabbing pain again.
“Ugh…what the fuck is wrong with me.” Christ said to
himself. He staggered back and Lotus stood grinning. “How
do you like your blue balls?” Lotus said laughing along with
the fans. Christ kneeled in a squatting position in pain and held his
balls, tipping over to the group. Hypnosis was standing up now as well
and looked down at Christ who was in obvious pain and laughed. Lotus
spun around with an elbow but Hypnosis grabbed it, than tossed her aside
where Lotus stumbled to get balance. She stood in a fighting stance
where Hypnosis kept his hands down, walking in a circle. Lotus jumped
and spun around for a kick and Hypnosis ducked, he grabbed her neck and
pushed her towards the asylum, leaning her against the rim almost
pushing her out with brute strength. As
she was near the edge, she began using her elbows, her head, anything
she could to hurt Hypnosis. But than she remembered what Nerva had
taught her, the battle tactics. Almost like a high pitch scream,
Hypnosis grabbed his balls in pain as Lotus grabbed the back of his neck
and lifted a knee into his private area. Hypnosis fell over, almost
gagging as Lotus looked down at what one simple move could do. She
kicked Hypnosis in the head a couple times while he does down for good
measure, but caught Christ in the corner of her eye, trying to get up. “What
did you do to me bitch?” Christ said to her as he fell back down to
one knee. Lotus
walked over to Christ and pecked him on the lips with a kiss. “Let’s
just say you should learn that someone like me would never want someone
as ugly as you.” And with that she pushed Christ up and nailed Christ
in the groin area with a soccer kick. Only one thing came to Steve
Christ’s mind: BLUE
BALLS + SOCCER KICK TO THE GROIN = VERY, VERY BAD PAIN. Christ
keeled over onto his face while supporting his body up on his knee as
Lotus raised her leg high over her shoulder and hit down, knocking out
Christ. Lotus smirked physically satisfyingly as mentally she crossed
out the main thing she wanted to do. Lotus’
Goal: Lotus
fixated her concentration on Hypnosis now, who was getting up. “That
bitch…I’m going to kill her,” Hypnosis muttered to himself as he
stood up and turned around. Lotus threw some wing chun punches across
Hypnosis’ face and spun around with a kick which staggered him back,
she kicked the back of his knee and Hypnosis dropped. However,
as Lotus moved in closer, he grabbed two hands full of hair at the top
of her head than dropped down with a neckbreaker. Lotus
almost hopped into the air from the impact but stayed on her feet.
Hypnosis smirked widely as he began unleashing an arsenal of new moves.
“3-Ring-Circus”! Punch! Reverse Punch! Uppercut! Lotus flew back and
landed with her arms and legs spread out across the mat. Hypnosis smiled
satisfyingly: Hypnosis’
Goals: Hypnosis
went over to Christ who was still kneeled over in pain and picked him
up, he looked at Christ who was cross eyed. “What the fuck did she do
to you?” Hypnosis asked as he slapped Christ to wake him up. “Blue
balls,” Christ said in pain. Hypnosis
laughed. “Looks like your gonna have to choke the chicken tonight to
get rid of it mate!” The fans laughed along and cheered as Hypnosis
slapped Christ against and threw a hard closed fist right across
Christ’s chin. Hypnosis
punched Christ twice again and than kneed him in the solar plexus.
Christ staggered and walked with a noticeable limp around the Asylum,
Hypnosis followed close from behind and grabbed his head. “Fuck,”
Hypnosis said as he was falling forward. Than blackness as Lotus
connected with the spinning roundhouse kick completing her move,
“Blossom”. Lotus fell down in exhaustion and caught her breath as
Christ watched everything. “Time
to take matters into my own hands,” Christ said thinking about the
pain from the blue balls. He reached down his pants and begun… Choking
the chicken… fuUK?
Stroking
the salami… fuUK?
Wrestling
the one eyed monster… fuUK?
Freeing
Willy… fuUK?
Spanking
the monkey… fuUK? … Lotus
got up onto her feet and turned around. Looking at Christ with his dick
out of his pants and aiming it at Lotus, “What the fuck?” Christ
reached a satisfying peak and screamed in joy, than it shot out, hitting
Lotus’ in the face. She screamed as she tried to rub the cum, “My
eyes! My eyes!” Christ stood up, relaxed and free from the blue balls
pain. He than locked in the dragon sleeper to the fan’s hatred towards
him and lifted up Lotus for seven seconds, than dropping Lotus down for
an inverted brainbuster Steve
Christ’s Goals: …
KTFO!
KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT! Hypnosis
was already back on his feet and lifted up Christ in surprise with a
fireman carry and dropping Christ down for an ace crusher. The fans were
going crazy in the stadium as the ref counted the ten count and the
match ended with Hypnosis cheering the crowd. He looked down at Christ
and Lotus, than pulled Lotus by her arm, placing Lotus in a 69 position
on top of Christ’s body. Winner: Hypnosis via Knockout
Personify:
Rave Caprino “I
AM HAAAAAATED!” …and
the fans cheer. The music contradictory to what they actually feel about
me, which is kind of fucking stupid. I should, by all right, be the most
hated individual in this entire organization, but no. No, they love me.
They suck my fucking cock, just because I’m supposed to be fighting
for a dead guy. But
that was so long ago. Anyway,
I run to the caged ring and climb inside. The claps, the cheers, the
screams, the pro-Rave signs, they all weigh me down. I just want the
music to change, and the cheers to go away. Personify:
Villam Ender “Downer”
by Nirvana hits the speakers, and I am all too ready. Rave, the object
of all that I am and all that I fear. I slowly walk to the ring,
taunting him with my eyes. This is all too easy. I look down at Natalia,
still on her chain leash, her eyes glistening with tears as she drags my
prop of destruction. Almighty clenched in her teeth. I
enter the Asylum. Rave looks at me, I look at Rave. The match won’t
start. What
the fuck? What the fuck are those officials doing with those chains?
This is a fucking hangman’s match. They enter the Asylum and try to
put a fucking noose made of steel around my neck. Fuck that, I punch one
of them away. Personify:
Rave Caprino Ha,
looks like Villam’s not up to this shit. I gladly put the noose around
my neck. My pain for his? Fuck that, it’s a perfect trade. My toy will
be mine. “Hey,
Villam, this is how the match fucking works. Put the stupid fucking
noose around your neck, God of Fight.” He
complies, as well he should. I’d fucking kick his ass with this thing
around my neck if he didn’t. The referee stands between us, the long
chain at his feet. The bell sounds. Bang.
Villam and me are already at the ground, pulling at the chain in an
attempt to strangle each other. It’s like a game of tug o’ war. I
slowly move my way up the chain. Face to face with my enemy, I let go.
Villam reels backward and smacks against the Asylum wall. I
reel back. I unleash a punch. And now, it’s all ready over. Punch,
punch, punch, punch. Each one more powerful. Each one backed with more
hatred. Each one with more angst behind it. More pent-up frustration. And
I stop. Villam hunches forward, and I grab near the chain around his and
pull him down to the canvas. Personify:
Villam Ender FUCK!
This
fucking noose isn’t all I had hoped for. It wasn’t what I was
expecting. I am the God of Fight. Fuck Rave Caprino, I will adjust to
the situation. In the end, I will win. But
fuck, it’s hard to breathe with this chain around my neck. I crawl
around the canvas aimlessly, just hoping that I won’t get picked up.
The chain tightens around my neck, and I find myself on my back again.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, that fucking idiot pacing around the ring, dragging
me. I crawl faster, he’s too fucking cocky to realize what’s about
to happen. I
stand. I
wrap this fucking metal around my fist. I run. I lunge. I
fucking connect. Rave stumbles forward, obviously shocked. I don’t
care. Fuck him, fuck all of this. I begin to pound away. Punch one, Rave
falls on his back. I
mount. I punch over and over. I watch cuts bleed, I watch bruises form.
His neck swells, his head bleeds. Blonde to red. I stop. I grab Rave’s
face, and begin to pound it into the mat. I relax. This
is more sexual than anything I’ve ever done with Natalia. As the
puddle of blood spills beyond the area of canvas that Rave’s broken
face covers, I stop. The
body’s limp. The body’s pale. The referee begins to count, but
it’s elementary at this point. I am the God of Fight. Personify:
Rave Caprino …
<I>FUCK
THIS!</I> I
spring up to my feet. Villam’s obviously surprised to see me, so I
thrust a foot out. Side kick to the chest, and Villam stumbles backward.
I pull him forward with the chain and duck, throwing him out of the
Asylum. But
his feet never touch. He’s too busy being hung by his fucking neck.
I’d let him die, but I have so much more planned for him. For now, I
just let him dangle. Watch the lynched nigger gasp for breath. Watch.
Stare. Laugh. Fuck
him. Fuck all these fans, fuck the referee. I drop the chain and let the
limp body hit the ground. Personify:
Villam Ender …
Personify:
Rave Caprino The
referee would call for the bell, but he kind of can’t. Yeah, he’s
kind of unconscious on the canvas. Actually, I don’t think you can win
by ring out in this match, but I think I’ll make up the rules as I go
along, anyway. Villam
can’t really do anything, so I walk over to the announcer’s table.
We don’t really need these guys anymore, so I throw one of them to the
side and grab the metal chair. Oh
yes. It’s time to get Skullfucked. I
grab Villam’s head and open up the chair, but not all the way. I slide
the unconscious head in before closing it around that white head of
hair. I want to cut him open. I want to kill him, but I can’t. I eye
Natalia, she’s just happy to see me. I stretch out my hand. Almighty.
The possession that will soon be mine. I turn to smack Villam. Personify:
Villam Ender ”Right
here, N’Sync boy.” Ha!
Too late. I dent the fucking chair over Rave’s skull. Panting, trying
to catch my breath, I lift the chair into the air once more. Bang.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. All
to the head. All with full force. All
not enough to keep Rave down. Slowly, he climbs up to his feet using the
Asylum cage for help. Muscling, trying with all his might to rise to his
feet, I walk over. I eye the blood on his face, and tease it with my
tongue. Salt.
Bitter. I
wind back. The chair, Rave’s head, and the mesh. A sandwich that
procreates even more blood. The splatter inside the ring is like a
majestic painting. I raise the chair to the air one more time. Queue:
The fan’s boos. But
it’s too late. The final blast, the final hit to end this war. FUCK!
Personify:
Natalia Gayne Personify:
Villam Ender Stupid
bitch! I kick her with my remaining leg and she falls to the ground. I
look at this wound and watch the blood drip down my leg. I then look
forward, and all I can see is this towering pale beast. Panting.
Breathing.
Bleeding.
He
swings, I duck. He kicks, I bend over. Black shoes fly toward my face,
and I fall back to the ground. I will not give up. I will not be beaten.
I will not lose Almighty. I
will not lose Almighty. I will not lose. Personify:
Rave Caprino There’s
a point where you have to stop fucking around. There’s a point where
you have to realize that to get what you want, you have to sacrifice a
piece of yourself. This piece I am sacrificing is my health. This piece
I am sacrificing is my blood. But
my sacrifice will come back ten fold to Villam. I stomp on the chair and
watch Villam stand. Throw it to him, but he doesn’t need to catch it.
I hit the chair with a quick thrust kick, causing Villam to fall to the
ground in pain. His face finally cut. His face bleeding. I
grab Almighty. That’s it, it’s over. I
raise it. I let it fly downward. All of the air escapes Villam’s chest
with a crack to the ribs. Crack follows crack as I listen to the
snapping sound of the rib cage. I toss it to the side. The referee
inside the ring refuses to count, since we should already both lose. Such
a nice man, not disqualifying us both. Villam
squirms on the ground, clutching his chest. I guess that was kind of a
wake up call. I reach under the Asylum and produce a baseball bat. Place
that to the side, and put this dented chair around Villam’s skull. The
bat. The
steel. The
blood. Skullfucked
v2.0. The bat slams down hard with each blast. Villam’s skull weakens
under the pressure, and I smile. I smile because he’s bleeding. I
smile because he’s dying. I smile because all of this is mine. I
smile because it’s over. I grab the chain and use it to lift Villam on
my shoulder. Step. Step. Step. I close in on the Asylum cage mesh, and
try to toss Villam in. Personify:
Villam Ender Scream!
Teeth clench, tighten, clamp on this flap of flesh. I turn my head and
bite Rave’s ear. Not enough force to rip it from its placement, but
enough. Enough to cause pain. Enough to draw blood. Enough to satisfy. Rave
drops to his knees. With much haste, I run over and pick up the chair.
Rave stares up at me for a millisecond. This millisecond as the chair
flies at his face. Life
Muted In Utero. I
climb into the Asylum as the referee looks me up and down. Blood on my
chest, blood on my face, blood in my hair. I start pulling the chain,
Rave’s body edging up the cage wall with each pull. I stop, and keep
the chain’s resistance but walk forward. I
am at the edge of the cage, having the life of this man in my hands. I
bend over and kiss him on the forehead before pulling him up from his
hanging position, body now hanging, spine now cracking as he balances
over the Asylum bar. I
lift my foot. I bring down my bleeding calf across Rave’s neck. The
force causes him to flip and land, face first, against the canvas. The
referee counts. Personify:
Referee 1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
Personify:
Rave Caprino Clench,
squeeze, grasp Villam’s testicles in my hand as I raise to a knee. He
can’t punch me, he can’t kick me, he’s too fixated on his balls
being crushed, slowly. I continue. Finally, I fall to a sitting position
with my legs between his, split them, roll back, and throw my weight
forward as I roll on my neck. Bam.
Both
feet, my entire body weight thrust into Villam’s crotch. He squirms on
the ground, and- Fuck!
One of his feet catches me in the fucking nuts. Both on the ground. Both
squirming. Both fucked. We
eventually roll away from each other. We both stand up at opposite ends
of the ring. Nothing to be said, no moves to be made. Both of us dizzy
from a loss of blood. Both of us stained. Both of us cut. Villam
begins to run forward, but I kick the chain up in the air and grab it.
He continues, he runs, and I duck under him. I pull the chain slightly,
causing him to turn around, then yank the fucker. Watch
the nigger stumble. I run, I connect. I
fucking connect. Flying
forearm clad in spike bracelets. Villam Ender falls, and so do I. I lay
next to my enemy, not because of choice. But
because these metal spikes are stuck in the side of his face. I yank
them out with force and examine the six holes in the side of his face.
He can’t do anything, though he’s too tired from the loss of blood.
I take advantage. I
shove my finger in one of the holes, stretching it. Villam
screams. The jolt causes him to stand up, to get away from the pain. Villam
swings. Personify:
Villam Ender I
SWING! Personify:
Rave Caprino I
fucking duck. Personify:
Villam Ender He
fucking ducks. Personify:
Rave Caprino I
wait. Spinning
extended back kick. The
force causes Villam Ender, my enemy, my hatred, the thief, to spin in
the air. One
and a half spins, all of them spent screaming out of horror. Bite
the metal, Villam’s face slams against the steel bar. The limp body
falls to his knees, raking against the steel mesh. I run forward and
perform a simple kick to the back of his face. He falls forward. 1.
2.
Pick
up shoes. 3.
4.
Shut
the door. 5.
6.
Pick
up sticks. 7.
8.
Um,
masturbate. 9.
What
the FUCK! Personify:
Villam Ender I
won’t die. Low blow, uppercut, it’s all so simple for me. Rave
stumbles backward, and I fall. Fall on top of him. Each punch throws all
my weight. Too fucking tired to even punch. I lean forward and whip my
head against Rave’s. Thud.
We
both lay next to each other, like lovers just finished with a good fuck.
I lean my head over and stare at my enemy. My love. My fear. I laugh at
his blood. I laugh at his shut eyes. I laugh at his near death. 1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
I
rise. 6.
7.
8.
9.
Thud.
Goodbye.
Personify:
Referee 1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9…
Personify:
Rave Caprino, before the second count. This
isn’t over. I
stand up. I grab Villam in a waist lock. The fans, they cheer. They know
what’s coming. I feel like a traitor, but I do what I fucking have to.
LOOK!
I CAN FUCKING WRESTLE! Villam’s
neck smacks against the steel bar that tops the mesh. His body crumples
to the canvas, and he falls limp. Personify:
Referee Ten.
Personify:
Rave Caprino Fucking
ten. I
fall to my knees and let my head fall into my forearms. I’d cry, but I
just don’t fucking care that much. I’m glad it’s over. I’m glad
it’s gone. I’m glad I can sleep, now with Natalia by my side. Or
so I thought. “Villam Ender, what the fuck do you think you’re FUCKING doing?” Up
the ramp he goes, Natalia still in his grasp. I
jump over the railing and watch them scatter backstage. Running is
futile, but planning is not. I look over at Almighty at the side of the
ring and grab the wooden handle. Winner: Rave Caprino via Knockout
“I
Disappear” by Metallica. While
the music never changed, the same could not be said for the man, Inmate
had gone from loved, to hated… to loved, and now hated more than ever,
LLB had been the subject of Joe Campbell, Inmate and Archangel’s
sickening game, Mind Games, for LLB… truly was Mind Games… and now,
he was cast once again back into the middle of the frey. Inmate
was going to Fight.Hell.II, but tonight… that was on the line… a
victory over him for Archangel or LLB would result in them going instead
of him, these thoughts passed through his mind and drowned out the
boo’s as he clambered up and into the Asylum. As
he cracked his knuckles and looked to the top of the aisle, the arena
went black, then white… then black again, a booming strobe light
greeting the white upon black letters of L L B on the video wall,
“Points of Authority” by Linkin Park hit the speakers, and a
furious, teeth baring LLB appeared from behind the curtain. He
knew exactly what lay ahead, and knew exactly how to go about his
“three way” match, to him… it was a handicap, and he had three
targets, one of which he would get out of the way as quickly as
possible. The
crowd erupted, LLB suddenly setting off at sprint toward the Asylum, a
slight hobble representing the surgery to repair his club foot as a
child, he leapt over the Asylum rim, and completely clattered an
advancing Inmate! THUD!
The
first blow, loud and chear… in LLB’s favour, an advancing Inmate was
easy to scoop up and plant down with a spinning spinebuster, the sheer
velocity brought the crowd to their feet as LLB quickly snapped the legs
and started to twist Inmate over with Testify… Sharpshooter time
already… and Burton was in trouble. Hideous
boos had started to filter through the arena however, the massive
Archangel striding down the aisle, snarling… he too was ready for war. LLB
heard the screams of the crowd, and turned, ducking a split second in
time to avoid a huge lunging fist from Archangel, the momentum spun
angel around, and as it did… LLB took a large handful of his long
hair, and fell backwards, bringing Angel down throat first over the
Asylum rim, the monster falling backward down the steps and sprawling
out in the center of the ramp. More
boos. Joe
Campbell had now rushed down the aisle, he leapt the Asylum rim after
skipping past the fallen beast Archangel, before jumping into the
Asylum… and suddenly realising what he’d done in the spare of the
moment. LLB. Joe. Alone. “Aww…
shit!” Joe screamed… LLB advancing fists clenched, LLB suddenly
grabbed Joe by the collar… Joe waved his arms frantically… he hit
the key note however, pointing to the black and white of his own shirt
then directing LLB’s attention to the bell… reluctantly… LLB
backed away, but smiled at Joe… turning and sending several stunning
fists directly into Inmate’s mouth! Inmate
struggled to block, as LLB continued the downpour of rights and lefts,
each one jarring the number one contenders skull, Inmate struggled to
his feet, and the crowd booed in disapproval as Joe ran between Inmate
and LLB and parted the two, Inmate shook his head, rage filling his
eyes, he shoved Joe aside and rushed at LLB; to no avail. CRACK!
The
crowd absolutely exploded, LLB snaring Inmate’s feet with a drop toe
hold and sending his head first into the Asylum rim, unable to get his
hands up, Inmate connected throat first with the steel, and rolled
around trying to catch breath, foaming at the mouth from the horrendous
blow! No
time to breath however, LLB dragging Inmate up by the hair, and sending
several more stunning fists into his temply, clutching Inmate by the
wrist… LLB looked to whip him into the unforgiving steel structure. No
such luck. Burton
slammed on the breaks, turning the momentum and whipping LLB the other
way… unfortunately for the lawyer, he had more problems than a reverse
of momentum. Archangel. The
recovering beast was on his way into the Asylum as LLB was forced toward
him, instantly reacting, Archangel lifted his huge boot into the air,
and LLB’s head connected directly with it, almost coming off in the
process… the momentum carried LLB under and beyond Archangel, landing
limbs sprawled, he was out clean on the canvas. Boos
filled the arena, the terrible trio of Campbell, Archangel and Inmate
finally grouping in the center of the Asylum, LLB twitched on the
canvas… as Joe barked a few choice commands, Archangel and Inmate
looked at each other and nodded in agreement… triple threat? Hardly. Archangel
approached LLB, pulling him up by the throat, he spun him and hooked his
arms, opening him up for… THUD!
The
crowd groaned in empathy, Inmate rushing at LLB and sending a solid knee
into his ribs, he stepped back as LLB tried to catch his breath, and
went to work, sending right and lefts into LLB’s midsection… Inmate
reared back, flipping off the crowd as he did… he didn’t notice LLB,
who’d furiously started to push back, each rush slamming Archangel’s
spine into the steel rim! Inmate
turned to run at LLB, without noticing that Archangel had released him
in order to clutch his back, Inmate’s eyes widened, rushing toward LLB
who smiled insanely at him, ducking down as Inmate tried to desperately
put on the breaks. The Crowd Exploded! LLB
ducked, and as he did… Inmate connected with him, on the dot… LLB
stood, propelling Inmate several feet into the air, the crowd completely
erupted as he completely cleared the Asylum rim in what seemed like slow
motion, connecting with the announce table with sideward motion, he
cleared the monitors and announce papers from it, as well as knocking
Malone and JPP out of their seats. Inmate
lay motionless on the arena floor… while Joe looked around in dismay. “Er…
I forgot to mention… knockouts do not apply in this match! Its extreme
rules!” Joe cried… the crowd completely exploding again, this time
with intense boos, LLB turned to Joe, spit flying from his mouth as he
fired some choice words toward him… Joe backed away, raising his
hands… LLB drew back his fist, but suddenly found that he couldn’t
apply any forward force. A
vice like grip had taken his arm, LLB turned to see the massive Arcangel
towering a foot above him, suddenly… the vice like grip of his other
hand caught LLB around the throat, and lifted him into the air… LLB
kicked his legs, gagging for air, Archangel walked with him, before Joe
barked another command. “Angel!
Put him down… erm… over there!” Joe sneered, pointing to the hard
concrete outside the Asylum rim. THUD!
The
crowd groaned as the hideous sound of LLB’s body hitting the arena
floor from several feet up resounded, LLB once again lay motionless, the
wind driven from him by the huge blow. Joe scampered to the outside,
checking on the fallen Inmate, who sat up and shook his head, a moment
of concern passed but was quickly evaporated as Joe explained a “last
minute” stipulation change, Inmate struggled to his feet, a mile wide
grin on his face as he struggled to his feet, and snapped shut a steel
chair, LLB had started to rise, on his hands and knees… he crawled
away… as Inmate stalked him, slowly drawing the chair back over his
head… LLB
continued to crawl, but failed to notice Archangel, who clambered out of
the Asylum… and also snapped up a chair, the crowd gasped with
concern, for LLB was now completely cornered, Archangel coming from the
front… Inmate from behind, Joe stood tall, clambering back into the
Asylum and barking commands, LLB struggled up to his feet on jelly legs,
as Inmate and Archangel started to pick up the pace, rushing at LLB and
swinging their chairs consecutively. CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCRACK!
The
crowd exploded! LLB
ducked, and the chair flew over him, Archangel’s swing from the right,
Inmate’s from the left… each man hit their other with a shattering
blow, before stumbling into each other in agony, they tumbled sidewards
into the guard rail, as LLB knelt… building up the momentum. CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCRRAAASH!
Erroneous
Conclusion! The
crowd exploded… LLB rushing and hitting both men in the ribs with the
blow, the sheer weight and velocity of the three pulled the steel guard
rail apart, and heir fell in a heap into a scattering front row crowd!
Joe Campbell stood in the Asylum, hands on his head… he’d expected
the battle to be well and truly over by now, but thus far he’d already
had to screw LLB once. As
the three stirred… LLB was the first up, grabbing Inmate by a small
handful of hair, the threw him face first into the side of the Asylum,
his head connecting with the mesh! Inmate clambered tentatively up into
the Asylum, with LLB pursuing, however, as LLB got half way into the
Asylum, a blow that looked to change the course of the match occurred. CRUNCH!
Chair,
upon leg, upon steel. Archangel
appeared from the crowd where he had fallen, slamming the chair down
into LLB’s leg, LLB grimaced in agony, dropping into the Asylum and
clutching his leg in agony… Joe rubbed his hands together
fiendishly… shoving Inmate on the shoulder, he urged him to execute
what would surely be the end! SNAP!
And
so he did, grabbing LLB by his prone leg, he twisted him over and sat in
the hold, no escape… no chance, this was it for the laywer. The
crowd erupted again. Genius,
a pure technical counter… LLB reached back and hooked his arms around
Inmate’s feet, one swift tug toward himself, and Inmate was having to
put his hands out to avoid bashing his face on the canvas, the problem
however… was the LLB was now in the perfect position to synch in the
Testify! And
he did. Inmate
yelped in agony… and the crowd exploded again! THUD, THUD, THUD!
The
sound of Tyler Burton tapping furiously, shock once again enveloped Joe
Campbell’s face… but instantly, he screamed out. “No
submissions!”… LLB’s face instantly became a picture of sheer
fury, he released the hold and walked toward Campbell, his fists once
again clenched with intent. CRACK!
Down
went LLB, Archangel finally catching up with him to deliver a solid
steel chair shot, this time connecting firmly with LLB’s skull, LLB
fell to the canvas, as Archangel slammed down the chair and lifted LLB
with a two handed choke, walking over to the Asylum rim, Archangel
looked down ominously to the steps. “Do
it!” Campbell roared, Archangel complying by tossing LLB up from the
choke in an amazing feat of strength, catching him, and powerbombing him
out of the Asylum and onto the steps, the crowd’s echoes of despair
were deafening, as LLB came to rest on the aisle, several bloody lesions
appearing across his back where the steps had taken their toll. Joe,
not wanting to relinquish Inmate’s contendership, simply
“overlooked” the count, as Archangel and he helped Inmate up to his
feet. The three looked at the downed LLB, before clambering collectively
out of the Asylum, Inmate and Archangel taking an arm each and dragging
LLB up the aisle, Joe strolling along behind, pissing off the crowd. They
reached the top of the ramp, and Archangel and Inmate set down LLB
ominously close to the edge of it, down below… the broadcast area…
Joe smiled, as did Inmate, who picked up LLB and set the momentum,
preparing to hurl him down into it. Stopped. At
the last minute, Joe Campbell stepped in the way, Inmate dropping LLB
and scowling, the crowd actually cheering Joe for a split second, until
his hand pointed somewhere far more disturbing. The
camera tower. And
more importantly. The
top of it. Female
members of the crowd screamed, male members exploded with bloodlust, the
tower a solid thirty feet in the air, like clockwork, an evil grin
appeared on Inmate’s face… as he and Archangel picked up LLB and
started to drag him up the first set of steps, onto the first platform,
ten feet above the ground. Suddenly,
LLB dropped to his knees. CRUNCH!
A
low blow to the Inmate, who dropped to the ground in agony. SMACK!
Yet
another Erroneous Conclusion… this time catching Archangel at almost
full sprint, knocking him into one of the camera’s which exploded in
smoke and sparks, LLB got to his feet, struggling for breath, he
approached Joe Campbell… fuming, but brought to a halt. SMACK! A
camera exploded around LLB’s head, courtesy of the Inmate, who took
him by his trunks and neck, and hurled him to the crowds dismay,
straight off the first floor of the tower. And
through one of the video walls. SSSSSSSSSSSSMASH! Screams
and shattering glass, LLB lay in a pool of glass and blood, a broken
man… Joe Campbell stumbled down the steps, to count a rather
conspicuously quick attempt… 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10! “I
Disappear” hit the speakers, and the crowd exploded with boo’s,
Inmate had come out victorious, and was showing it, helping Archangel to
his feet, the two raised their hands on the first floor of the towers,
before stumbling down the steps to greet Campbell, who leapt up and down
with glee… the three made their way down to the Asylum to celebrate,
as emt’s rolled their way over to LLB, who still lay motionless. Campbell
reached the Asylum, breathing heavily… he snatched a microphone away
from the announcer. “Yo
Adrian!” Joe roared in a mocking Rocky voice “WE DID IT!” He
sneered, Inmate and Archangel catching their breath in the Asylum. “Let
this be a lesson to everyone backstage… as I said weeks ago, I am not
the man with whom to fuck; LLB learned that… and when he wakes up in
the emergency room later tonight, I hope he opens his eyes and finally
learns that he’s the black sheep around here… he doesn’t belong…
he never will, he should go back to Action and quit while he’s
ahead.” Joe said, smirking. “Lets
have a look at the fallen hero then, the bloody mess… let these people
see what we did!” Joe cried jovially, the camera’s catching up to
the crime scene, to reveal a shocking development. LLB. Was
gone. Several
EMT’s laid flat out on the floor, as Joe’s mouth opened wide,
squinting… he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. CRACK! A
solid chairshot met the skull of Archangel, dropping him to the canvas,
Inmate turned and tried to advance. CRACK! To
the ribs, as Inmate doubled over. CRACK! A
shot to the spine sending him down, Joe turned… and saw what could
easily have been a scene from a horror film. LLB,
bleeding… snarling… foaming at the mouth and staring right. At. Joe. Joe
turned, a desperate attempt to run foiled by a full nelson, Joe kicked
his legs, desperate to escape, but the crowd exploded as LLB lifted and
dropped him square onto the chair with a full nelson slam. Black
& White Winner: Inmate via Knockout
It
was now time for Nerva’s first PPV title defense. As the Asylum
Champion and the leader of The Movement she had a lot to defend. Her
pride, dedication and commitment to destroying men were on the line. She
had gone through hell and back with Borst last month and defeated him in
possibly one of the greatest matches in Asylum history. On
the other side of the fence, Impetigo had a lot to prove in this match.
His entire life was meant to be a mistake. He wasn’t meant to triumph.
When his mother’s whorish hips pushed him out, Billy Irwin was meant
to rot and die in his own filth. Never was he meant to come this far in
a fighting career. Both
of these fighters had collided in previous cases, but never had the heat
been so high. Since winning the Asylum Championship, Nerva made it her
goal to embarrass any men or women who didn’t agree with her
ideologies. She started by breaking Mike Malone’s arm. This is what
caught Impetigo’s attention. He fought his way through the Asylum’s
largest woman, Akha, and then the Asylum’s largest man, ArchAngel, to
earn his shot at Nerva’s Asylum Championship. And at the same time, he
defended his U.K. Championship. Matters
escaladed to newer heights when Nerva broke Wonder Hanna’s arm and
pulled out strands of her hair. She succeeded in making this bout a
personal war. Impetigo was out for revenge and he didn’t give a shit
that Nerva had The Movement behind her. Even the power of many
couldn’t stop a man passionate about restoring his woman’s honor. Cue
to music. “Conserve”
by Big D and The Kids Table. The fans completely erupted in response.
Impetigo walked past the curtains without Wonder Hanna by his side. He
looked tougher. More focused. His clothes were torn and disoriented, but
his eyes had no such signs. He stormed down the aisle and entered the
cage. He took off his U.K. Championship and threw it to the outside.
Although it was a prestigious title, it wasn’t on the line tonight. It
was all about the Asylum Championship. He circled the cage like a wild
animal. He
was just waiting for Nerva’s music to hit. That
would send the blood up and down his body. Pump
the adrenaline. Give
him the drive. To
beat the living shit out of Nerva. And
take the Asylum Championship. “From
Brooklyn, New York… in your face!” The
heavy guitars of “Unified” by Biohazard blared over the speakers,
bringing Nerva out from the back. She was wearing a silver boxer’s
robe with the Asylum Championship strapped around her waist. Impetigo
felt like leaping over the cage and pummeling it into her, but the
referee held him back. Zoe
walked out with Nerva, talking trash to male fans while Nerva kept her
focus on the cage ahead and who was in it. He was one of her many sworn
menemies - the filthy, disgusting Impetigo. He deserved to die tonight.
He really did. Nerva
whipped her robe off and entered the cage. She took off the Asylum
Championship and draped it over her shoulder. Impetigo met her at the
center point of the cage and a stare down ensued. He stood 6’1, four
inches taller than Nerva. Yet he was the underdog in this match. The
ref stepped between them and asked for the Asylum Championship belt to
get things started. Nerva gave it to him. He held it up high, called for
the bell, and then handed it off to a ringside attendant. Impetigo kept
his eyes locked on Nerva when the bell sounded. He wasn’t going to let
her get in any cheap licks. Nerva
bounced about. She was light on her feet and her body was relaxed.
Impetigo remained completely still. She began feeling him out with a
couple of long-range snap kicks, teasing him. She then adopted a still
stance, and that was when Impetigo charged and uppercut her in the chin.
That was for Mike Malone. He
immediately rammed her back first into the cage rim and worked away at
her body with punches. Nerva fought back with a head butt and then took
Impetigo down with a lift
and drop.
Before Nerva could mount on top of him, Impetigo pushed her away with
his feet and then got up. He saw Nerva charging at him and kneed her in
the gut. Nerva doubled over and received a face drop. These
kinds of moves didn’t hurt her as much as they did before. Her face
was solid and absorbed everything thrown at it. She staggered towards
the cage to support and lured Impetigo in. He took a hard sidekick
to the gut and then a roundhouse
kick to the head. Nerva swung with a wild haymaker, but Impetigo blocked
it and punched her right between the eyes. That was for Wonder Hanna. Nerva
hit the ground and Impetigo was ready to pounce on her, but the referee
pushed him away and started to count Nerva down. At six, she got up and
nodded when the ref asked her if she wanted to continue. Impetigo
charged in again and kicked Nerva in the mid-section. Grabbing her by
the arm, he whipped her stomach-first into the rim on the other side,
nearly ringing her out. He could have been Asylum Champion right there,
that quickly. She staggered back into his grasp, and he hit a reverse
DDT. He immediately positioned himself so he was head locking her and
began raining down the right hands. Fist after fist dug into Nerva’s
forehead until blood began to spill out. And
still, Impetigo wasn’t stopping. This
is exactly what it took to put an end to a militant lesbian cult leader.
There was no room for fighting nice against Nerva. Her femininity was no
excuse not to beat the living shit out of her. Nerva was kicking her
legs up and down, trying to escape the headlock, but Impetigo’s weight
was positioned well. He
brought her up in the headlock position and then bulldogged her halfway
across the cage. She got up immediately and threw a right at him, but he
dodged it, hooked her up, and t-bone suplexed her to the mat. When she
got up he ran at her and delivered a reverse elbow, sending her against
the cage wall. Right there, Impetigo grabbed her by the hair and started
punching away once again. Nerva fought back with a front snap kick
between the legs. Now
Nerva had an advantage going, and that didn’t mean good news for
Impetigo. She weaved her head around to confuse him, and then axe
kicked him right in the shoulder. The impact sent him to
one knee, where Nerva immediately lashed out with an au batido kick to
the face. Impetigo was about to fall to the mat, but Nerva had to finish
him off with a roundhouse
kick to the head. Impetigo
fell to the ground, having just been through a three-kick clinic. Nerva
spat down at him and swore. “You worthless little fucker. I wish your
mother were here so I could slap her for pushing you out of her fuckin
vagina. You’re a shredder. That’s what we call babies that aren’t
girls.” The
ref held her back and started his count on Impetigo. At four, he
stirred, and at seven, he managed to get up to his feet. Nerva
immediately pounced on him from behind, taking him to the ground and
burying her fists in his upper back. She moved down with alternating
punches to the kidneys, until Impetigo reached back, head locked her,
and flipped her down to the ground. Nerva
slipped out of the headlock, stood up and then soccer kicked Impetigo in
the lower back. Impetigo curled backwards with his eyes crunched shut.
Nerva pulled him onto his back and applied the figure-four
arm bar. As he screamed in pain, Nerva arched her back,
closed her eyes, and took in the sexual pleasure that dishing out pain
gave her. Zoe pounded on the cage mesh from the outside and encouraged
Nerva to break Impetigo’s arm. The ref asked Impetigo if he wanted to
quit, but Impetigo just shook his head left and right. As
Nerva was about to cinch up on Impetigo’s arm at the highest degree,
Impetigo brought his knee right between Nerva’s legs. It was dirty
fighting and completely fair game in the Asylum. These two fighters were
here to fight, and not to play by any fucking rules. Impetigo
kept kneeing her between the legs until she let go of the arm bar. He
brought himself up with help from the cage and then smashed Nerva’s
face into the ground with a rocker dropper. He pulled her up by the hair
and gave her Ouch Times Three: a kick below the belt, a kick to the gut,
and then an elbow thrust to the throat. As she staggered back, he
clasped both his hands together and smashed her with a double axe-handle
over the forehead. She dropped to one knee from the shot. Impetigo swung
his fist in a downward motion and struck Nerva on the top of her skull.
She fell face-first, kissing the canvas. Zoe pounded the cage with both
of her fists, urging Nerva to get up. She
recovered quickly at a count of five and waved at Impetigo to come
forward. He jabbed her in the shoulder and then crossed her right in the
face. That was okay for her - it was part of the plan. When
he went for the same combo, she jump
back kicked him in the neck. Her flurry of offense was
starting. Hook
kick to the jaw.
Tornado
kick
to the chest. Spin
kick
to the temple. Impetigo
fell to the ground, and the fans booed as Nerva spat down at him and
raised her hands in premature victory. At six, Impetigo breathed heavily
and opened his eyes. At seven, he sat up. At eight, Nerva kicked him
back down and sunk her teeth right between his legs. She had him by the
balls and loved it. Impetigo’s face was panicking. Before any serious
damage would be done to his testicles, Impetigo grabbed two handfuls of
hair and threw Nerva onto her back. He
got up and immediately turned her over in a Boston crab. His buttocks
was sitting two inches above her upper back, making the move
oh-so-excruciating. Nerva
couldn’t survive this without (a) tapping out or (b) hearing cracks in
her back. Impetigo screamed as he reclined back even more. Nerva’s
palms were flat on the mat, with blood pouring out of her forehead. She
was on the verge of defeat, and Impetigo was a tap-out away from
becoming Asylum Champion. Zoe
couldn’t take it anymore and entered the cage with a steel chair. She
whacked Impetigo across the back, causing him to let go. He turned
around and looked at Zoe with threat. She panicked and struck him over
the head again. It made a cut, but Impetigo still stood unaffected. He
grabbed the chair out of Zoe’s hands and whipped it to the ground. He
then grabbed her by the hair and flung her like a rag-doll into the
crowd. “IMP!
IMP! IMP! IMP! IMP!” the fans cheered. He
was loved on this night. He was their hero. They all wanted him to
dethrone Nerva. As Nerva crawled to the cage Impetigo rushed forward and
kicked her in the ribs. He then went to work on her lower back, dropping
down vicious knees. Nerva tried crawling away, but Impetigo grabbed her
by the thong and pulled her back to him. He picked her up and dropped
her back first across his knee. She fell down onto her stomach. Impetigo
leapt up into the air and drove his elbow right into her lower back. But
in the process, a white powdery substance fell out of his pocket. And
right there, a female police officer came down the aisle. She was the
same officer that arrested Borst last month at Mind Games and put him in
handcuffs. Her nametag read ‘Nicole’. Impetigo hooked Nerva up in a
crossface chicken wing, and was about to end the fight with a Filth
Drop. Nicole
charged into the cage and whacked Impetigo over the head with her
nightstick. She then grabbed the microphone. “Impetigo, you are under
arrest for possession of narcotics. You’re not winning the Asylum
Championship tonight. And most importantly, you have the right to SHUT
THE FUCK UP!!” Pulling
out her handcuffs, Nicole smiled. She cinched one of Impetigo’s
wrists, but as she went for the other, he threw his head back and
connected with her face. Nerva recovered and went for the Double
Touch on him, but he caught her before she could hit the
first spin kick. He was about to throw her to the outside, but Nicole
grabbed her nightstick and whacked him over the head. He stumbled around
groggily, and then was caught by the Double
Touch from Nerva. He fell and leaned back against the
cage. Nerva
grabbed the steel chair in the cage and smacked away at Impetigo’s
head, being the hammer that pushes the nail into the ground. When he was
at a seated position against the cage, she stabbed him four times in the
neck with the chair, whacked him twice on each knee, and bashed him in
the heart with the end of it. Impetigo’s body was too battered to even
move. Nerva forced him up, and hit one final Double
Touch. He toppled forward and landed on the canvas. The
ref counted to ten. It
was over. Though
he put forth the best effort possible, Nerva and The Movement
overpowered his desire. “Unified” by Biohazard blared over the
speakers once again. Zoe came out of the crowd (after being thrown there
by Impetigo) and got in the cage, jumping into Nerva’s arms and
tongue-kissing her. Lotus and Akha came down to the cage as well as
Nerva took her Asylum Championship from the referee. Nerva
stood on one side of the cage with the Asylum Championship over her
shoulder. Zoe, Akha, and Lotus stood with her. Nicole stood opposite to
them. There was a pause, but then Nerva extended her hand out to Nicole.
The fans booed loudly and began throwing garbage into the cage. Nicole
grasped Nerva’s hand and hugged her, and soon after the rest of The
Movement women formed a group hug. The
final scene of the Broken PPV was a tableau: Nerva held the Asylum
Championship up high, with one foot over the fallen Impetigo’s back.
Zoe was holding her other hand up high in victory. Akha, Lotus, and
Nicole all were facing Nerva on one knee, with their heads bowed down.
First it was Conflict, and then Mind Games, and then Broken. The
Movement’s power was growing with every month. No one could stop them.
Winner and STILL Asylum Champion: Nerva via Knockout
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Copyright
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