The opening match of the night in many ways illustrated how monumentus an occasion Immortals was. For one of the greatest wrestlers to ever live, 'Golden' Glen Miller, was about to defend his 21w World Heavyweight Title against the 21w Millennium Kellen Kinkade, in a match fit to headline any card in the World.

EXCEPT IMMORTALS.

"Hero" by Chad Kroeger, featuring Josey Scott.

Thousands upon thousands of fans leapt up out of their seats within mili-seconds of the theme hitting, and cheered profusely for a man who had, in just under half a year, become an idol to millions. The son of a deceased legend, Kellen Kinkade was undoubtedly a prodigy. Possibly a future legend himself. Kade had the power, the agility...and most of all, the brains, to make it all the way in this industry. But to do so in the here and now.....He had to defeat a man who claimed himself to be Immortal and, so far, had done nothing to give people an argument against that statement.

"I Am Immortal"...

...And the rapturous boom of approval that welcomed him every time he showed his face.

The World Champion was here.

Miller wore a sparkling golden robe, which he hadn't adorned for years. He also wore his trademark beaming smile and the fans were, as ever, in awe. Although, he also sported a heavily strapped left leg, the one with so much history behind it, all negative, but Glen Miller didn't care. For if he were to have all four limbs chopped off...He'd probably still be competing.

Because it was all he knew.

Miller marched down to the ramp and climbed the ring steps, before turning on the apron to face the adrenalin-filled crowd, then holding both arms high in the air and receiving another miraculous pop. One hand held the glistening World Heavyweight Title that was to be on the line...

Although, for once, there was possibly something even grander on offer.

The opportunity to cement Immortality.

.....

Miller climbed over the top rope with ease and shifted over to the corner, where he climbed to the second turnbuckle and once again raised both arms, thrusting his title into the night sky. An awesome sight.

Hundreds upon thousands of camera lights flashed, before Miller climbed down and passed the belt to the announcer.

For 22 years he had been the man in the wrestling industry.

But at 50 years age, Glen wanted more.

He wanted to be recognised as the greatest entertainer to ever live.

But so did Kinkade.

Face to face they stood, as arguably the two biggest crowd favourites in the history of 21st Century Wrestling, barring maybe only Marx.

*DING DING*

Warriors. You couldn't have hand picked two more fitting individuals to represent the industry on this, a fateful night if ever there was one. But from here, only one could stake his claim for immortality.

Both men shook hands in a tremendous show of sportsmanship. The respect was all too evident, but that wouldn't change the way either fought in this match.

Not by a long shot.

Miller launched himself at Kade with a big right hand, then another. And another...and another, forcing the 6'2, 275lber back into a corner where Miller then proceeded to unleash rapid, stinging knife edge chops and slaps to the chest, instantly rendering it a bright shade of red. Kade attempted to fight back straight away, but Miller was all over him, smothering him in the corner like a rash. Ironic that Kade's finisher was called the Dying Breath because, right now, he couldn't even muster one.

Glen Miller had come out like a house on fire.

Right hand after right hand, after right hand. Taking Kade to town, GGM's sparkling burst of adrenalin showed no signs of relenting and the 'MillerItes' in the the crowd were loving every second of it, soaking up the occasion for all it was worth and gearing themselves up for something they'd never forget. All they wanted to see was a classic between a legend and a potential legend....they knew Kade would come back. And he did.

After managed a stiff knee to the stomach, Kinkade followed with the customary elbow drive across the back. Miller went down to one knee and was quickly up, yet, somehow in that split second, Kade had hopped up onto the second buckle and was now soaring down with an attempted double axe handle. Miller sidestepped, though, and delivered a shot to Kade's mid-rift, before throwing him back into the corner, almost in disdain. The crowd gasped at Miller's man-handling of the 275lbs'er, as once again, The Golden God went to the body.

'Golden' Glen Miller. For how good he was, every time the big pay-per-view came around he was that much better. Able to find the extra gear or call upon that second wind from nowhere, always when it mattered most, his pedigree spoke for itself. Glen Miller had competed in all seven of 21w's bi-monthly PPV's....and he'd won every single time. Five of those being main events. To put things into perspective, the last time Glen lost a pay-per-view match was over two years ago.

These were the odds that Kellen Kinkade was up against.

Some thought this to be astonishing, considering his age, but not Miller. No surprises there.

And STILL he went to the body. Kade was already in deep trouble...He had to find a way out....

...and he did....by bailing through the ropes, to the outside.

A few "Whooooos" echoed out from the hostile crowd as Miller cocked his head to one side, before simply extending an arm and telling Kade to come back for more. Kade brushed his hair back and took a deep breath, then slowly nodded with serious intent in his eyes. They say that when you wrestle Glen Miller, you know about it. Except Kade wasn't just being out-wrestled...

He was being out fought.

Kade climbed up onto the apron and under the top rope. Miller allowed him to do so, before the two began circling each other, each warrior attempting to gauge some idea of what the other was thinking, searching for that all important opening. Kade faked a couple of attacks but Miller was unphazed. Kade remained focused. Possibly more so than he'd ever been. And he needed to be.

Tie up.

Miller overpowered Kade at first, before Kade managed to turn the tables. He forced Miller up against the ropes but was then asked to relinquish his hold by 21w referee, Ken Rivera.

"No" was Kade's reply.

"Kellen, get off him! He's on the ropes!"

"No."

Kade continued to press down, his face going red, his teeth clenched and with ferocity in his eyes.

Kellen Kinkade had now entered a new zone. A new place. A place that only Glen Miller can take you.

But a place he needed to be.

Now Kade was in danger of being disqualified. Rivera threatened him but Miller managed to spin around and grab an armful of rope. Kade wasn't going to be stopped. He was already a man possessed. He applied a rigid full nelson, then used his awesome power to lift Miller up, turn and drill him down into the canvas.

All 304lbs worth.

The crowd exploded...and the ring was still shaking. Kade blew some hair away from his mouth, now taking deep breaths, his entire body, his soul, now focused purely on a man that he, just like so many others of his generation, admired...Looked up to through his youth, respected, loved, felt a bond with. But none of that was going through Kade's mind at this point. It had been completely erased. It had to be. Otherwise he would have been beaten by Glen Miller, like so many others had before him, without needing to step in the ring. Now staring down on his prey with wide eyes, as Miller struggled to regain his balance, Kade looked upon him as nothing more than an enemy. A rival, an obstacle...

The target.

Kade sent himself back against the ropes and after bouncing off, he swung with an attempted running clothesline. Miller ducked and unable to stop his momentum, Kade continued racing towards the other set of ropes. As the Millennium Champion rebounded off.....Miller turned around, ready. But Kade was one step ahead.

Flying clothesline.

Miller down, again.

Thousands roared.

Kade threw his arms up in the air but was quickly back on top of the World Champion. He lifted GGM up by his silvery locks and began taking shots down across the brow, with only one intent - To bust Miller open....

But Miller beat away the hands of his opponent, then grabbed him around the waist and ran quickly towards the corner, where he drove Kade back into the unforgiving turnbuckles. Kade crumpled in pain, feeling his back and once again, the tide had turned...and this time it was Miller's turn to release some more of that burning desire. He grabbed Kade under the arm pit and tossed him through the air. Kade went soaring, unable to control his fall, before landing in a heap in the middle of the ring, Miller's overwhelming power bringing the house to its feet with a sizing roar.

Always one to suck the advantage for all its worth, Miller moved in quickly.

Kade was lifted up...and dropped into a backbreaker. But it wasn't to stop there. Miller held on for more....and delivered another...AND ANOTHER...

Then a fourth and final backbreaker. Now, Kade's body was already aching, after having been consistently targeted by Miller since the start of the match....In following, Kade was brought onto his feet and hooked at the tights, when Miller decided to lift him up, vertically, before holding him pointed up towards the sky for a good five seconds. This prompted a series of flashing lights, as thousands more fans took camera shots. Then.......

BOOM.

Miller dropped back, in picturesque fashion, driving Kade's back into the mat once more to complete the perfect hanging vertical suplex. More fans boomed as Miller rolled off to one side and sat adjusting his leg brace, making sure it was still fastly tightened. But behind him, Kinkade was rising to his feet. Miller got up, turned around and looked to pull Kade in by the head, only for Kinkade to grab his first and pull it down into a rising knee to the face. Then, Kade alternated knees, each one striking Miller in the forehead. Kade proceeded with malice for a few seconds longer, then reached in and wrenched Miller over with a gutwrench suplex. Kade flipped up onto his feet, exacting a few cheers and cries from the female fans in the audience, before quickly running up to the turnbuckles, scaling to the top, then turning and jumping down onto the middle ring rope adjacent and springboarding off sensationally with an Asai Moonsault that connected with authority.

40,000 fans, including those in the Asylum section, cheered in reaction to the sensational manouevre performed by Kade....and he was soon able to roll over for the cover. However, despite hooking the leg, Kade only managed a short two and had to get back on top of things as soon as possible. He turned Miller over and pulled both legs up, then reared back...

Boston Crab applied.

*POP*

And Miller was already struggling.

Kade made sure to keep pulling back and constantly adjusted the hold, keeping the legs up high so as to exert the maximum amount of pressure on Miller's 50 year old back.

But, you know the score...

Glen Miller doesn't go down without a fight.

...And after some more moments of searching down the wrong tunnels, Miller managed to perform a move he remembered Shawn Michaels putting on Bret Hart to escape from the Sharpshooter on 'that night'. Miller reached back with his long arm and tripped Kade up by the ankle. The hardcore Miller fans who, despite admiring Kade, wanted nothing more than for Miller to dominate the entire World, cheered emphatically at their heroes' escaping. Kade tried frantically to roll and get back up on his feet, but Miller was already on top of him and what's more, Miller had already placed one of Kinkade's ankles into the crook of Kade's other knee. He was going for an inverted Indian deathlock. Kade put up a fight, but Miller was fleeting and thwarted him by sliding his leg through Kade's entangled legs, before reaching and grabbing Kade's arms, pulling them forward and rolling him up, elevated into the air.

Miller had just reversed Kade's Boston Crab into an Inverted Indian Deathlock Surfboard.

Only he could do it.

And 40,000 fans could do nothing but watch on in awe...in admiration...in respect, for a man who was truly a master of his profession. If he was indeed in the twilight of his career, then he was going to go out with a bang. Experience was aiding him achieving that.

Kade was straining, considerably....but so was Miller. Having to hold 275lbs up with just your legs is no easy task and Miller was giving it everything to force Kade into an early submission. Though, Kade had other ideas. He managed to transfer all his weight to one side, rolling over onto the mat and freeing himself from the hold, before latching onto one of Miller's legs and yanking it in. Kade turned and stood up.

Ankle Lock.

Two could play that game.

You couldn't help but stand back and admire.

...As once again, the tides had turned. Miller was in trouble city. Because, it was 'that leg'. The one he'd injured in 1992. The one that cost him over two years over his career, when he was in his prime. The one that caused him to drastically change his outlook on wrestling and turn against the fans in 1995. The leg that had been targeted by Freakred and The Bullies since Titania. The ruptured cruciate ligament that had...and still did, threaten to end his career.

Miller was squirmishing, wriggling every which way. After all, he was a desperate man...Luckily, he found a haven in the form of the ropes. Grasping for the bottom one and clutching on in relief, Miller thought he was safe...

But he could think again.

Because, just like earier...Kellen Kinkade was refusing release the hold.

That's when a few Miller fans began to boo. Actually jeer Kinkade, for a few seconds, until he finally relinquished the hold and was forced across to the other side of the ring by referee Ken Rivera, who proceeded to shout and point the finger at Kade, threatening to disqualify him if any of this continued. Kade nodded as if to say 'I understand....I just got ahead of myself'. And he backed up those sentiments by allowing Miller as much time as he wanted to regain his footing. Miller clambered across the ropes, trying to shake out the pain, before glancing to the side, his eyes meeting Kade's cold, icy pupils and locking on.

If he was unsure before, then Miller now knew he was in a war.

No half measures. Kade wasn't giving an inch. Miller now knew that, for some reason, this was life and death for his opponent. Miller had to be the same...He had to want it more than Kinkade...He had to pull out all the stops...and so that's what he did.

With the referee standing directly behind Kade, Miller charged his opponent in what seemed like a completely rash move. Surely Miller knew that Kade would move out the way?...And Kade did. As a result, Miller clotheslined the referee to the mat.

...A murmur pervaded the arena for a few moments as Miller looked down at the flattened Ken Rivera. He didn't smile, but rather gave a look of closure, as if acknowledging his own actions...

Clearly, that was no accident.

But this was Immortals.

And Miller had just taken a right turn in his approach to this match. Kade spun to look at Miller, then down at the referee, then back up at Miller.

Too much deliberation.

...And as a result, with a snap kick to the gut and a planting of Kade's head into the canvas, Miller had DDT'ed his opponent...

Did he go for the cover?

No. The ref was down...

Did he go over to see if the referee was OK?...Maybe even try and bring him back to consciousness?.....

No.

...Instead, Miller went over towards the corner and began untying the top turnbuckle. This caused the crowd to become a little more hostile, but they wanted a fight. And so that's what Glen Mille was going to give them.

He chucked the pad away and pulled Kinkade back up to a vertical base. From there, GGM grabbed a handful of hair and rammed Kade, face first, into the steel.

*GASP*

Kade had been cut.

*SMASH*

He'd just been cut again.

Blood was now dripping from his face as Miller picked him up as if to perform a bodyslam, only to keep him slung over his shoulder, walk away, then run back towards the corner, tossing Kade and allowing him to drop face first across the exposed corner.

SNAKE EYES.

*HOSTILE BOOM*

Miller's eyes swam in and out of Kade's soul, before he made a decision.

Pick Kade up again.

Miller slid outside and snapped up a chair, before climbing back in. Rivera, meanwhile, still well and truly out of it. Miller lifted Kade up, leaving him slouched in the corner, before then turning the Millennium Champion around and placing him face down into the exposed steel. He then lifted the chair and raised it above the back of Kade's head as the crowd watched on, waiting for something shocking to happen....

...And it did.

*CRACK*

Miller had just driven that steel chair down onto the back of Kade's head, crushing his face into the corner.

"Ooh's" and "Aah's" echoed out, as Miller watched the challenger staggered backwards, with a face now completely covered in blood, before stumbling forwards again, tipping over...and falling flat on his front.

Glen Miller was a man on a mission. And right now, he was probably setting the tone for the night to come.

After dropping the chair to the mat, Miller decided to lift Kade back up onto his feet. But Kade couldn't stand. Instead, Miller had to spend so much time trying to keep him held up, that he was ultimately giving Kade everything he wanted: Recovery time.

Miller managed to lift Kade up onto his shoulders and then slid him down a little, into a reverse piledriver position. However, somehow, Kinkade managed to reach deep down inside and find something. He tilted his body to one side, rotating back onto his feet and effectively reversing the roles. He now had Miller ready to be tombstoned and wasted no time in dropping to his knees.

*CRACK*

Yes. Crack. Not Thud. Because Kinkade had just driven Miller head first, not into the mat...

But into the conveniently placed steel chair.

Thousands roared. Kade was back in the game and that's what they wanted to see. They wanted to see both men put on a show and Kade seemed determined to live up to his end of the bargain. Rivera was up. Kade saw.

Arm draped across the chest.

1...

Rivera was only barely conscious and consequently, all he could muster was a slow and excruciating count...

....

........2

....

...

SHOULDER!!

Miller flicked his shoulder up, with a hand grasping at the air.

*RAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRGGGGH!!!!!!!!!!*

There's life in the old dog yet.

Kade just shook his head in astonishment. Anyone else would have been knocked out. Kade was frustrated. He got up onto his knees and pleaded with Rivera, slamming his hand down against the canvas, but it was no good. He needed to get back on top of Miller and not allow him a moment's respite.

Kinkade was breathing heavily. He was smeared in blood.

He picked up the chair.

"NO!" Rivera screamed, as he saw the blur of Kade raise the chair above his head. Miller staggered to one knee...

Then the other.

Kade waited.

...For too long. Miller was allowed to execute a stiff heart punch, causing Kade to bend down in agony. A foolish mistake, unlike Kade, but he was quickly back up in time to see Miller attempting to punch the chair into his face, so Kade ducked. Miller's momentum took him forward, then Kade spun and levelled him in the lower back with a rasping chair shot.

*GASP*

Miller was still standing. Kade couldn't believe it. He dropped the chair to the mat and decided to jump on Miller's back, locking in a sleeper hold and shaking the big man every which way. But Miller wouldn't give into the pain. He marched around in a full circle, attempting to shake off his opponent, before deciding to drop backwards, onto the chair.

Crowd: OOOOooooohhhh!!!!

Kade had cushioned Miller's fall.....but he, on the other hand, had just been squashed and crunched into the chair. Thousands applauded Miller's tenacity as the 6'8, 304lbs'er regained his footing, taking deep breaths and turning slowly. He nodded in affirmation of their respect for him.

Kade rolled to one side and up onto one knee, wbent over with a fist dug down into the mat to steady the ship. Blood dripped off how brow, from his nose and from his mouth. Miller turned and charged towards Kade, motioning as if to send his size 18 boot straight through the challenger's chin, but Kade instantly picked up the chair and swung it into the champion's mid-section.

*THWACK*

Miller bent forward in pain, clutching his stomach after having all the wind taken out of his sails. Kade dropped the chair and got up...whilst referee Ken Rivera picked up the chair and chucked it to the outside. Kade, who was now facing Miller, quickly put his head under GGM's shoulder and slung the champ's arm over his shoulder, before pulling Miller's other arm around his back and then through his own legs, grabbing it, then reaching across Miller's chest and using his free arm to hook GGM's head. After swiftly performing all of that in mere seconds, Kade now had him in position. He lifted Miller up and fell backwards, dropping him down onto his head where he thought lay the steel chair. It didn't.

But he'd still just hit Miller with a Belly to Belly Pumphandle Brainbuster.

RUAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Spectacular is the word you're looking for.

That fatigued...that much pain running through his body. That much energy lost, yet Kellen Kinkade was still able to get a 300lbs Miller up for the most high impact move of the night so far.

Both men down.

Thousands sceaming and hollering. Spine tingling.

The referee began to count.

1.....

2.....

3.....

4.....

Signs of life from Kade.

5.....

6.....

Kade up.

7.....Miller began to move.

Kinkade helped Miller up by the hair and took him back over towards a corner, reached down around the wasit and lifted him up, propping an out of sorts Miller on the top buckle, the first and second of which he then began to mount. Once on the second buckle, Kade offloaded a series of big punches to the top of the head.

Something Glen Miller spent years doing.

ONE!!

TWO!! THREE!! FOUR!!

FIVE!! SIX!! SEVEN!!

EI-

Miller began to fight back. Right from him, then a left, but Kade retaliates. Both men now trading blows with one another. Kade with a headbutt. Miller dazed. Kade climbed up to the very top rope and slung Miller's arm over his shoulder, both now in a preacrious position. But Kade didn't care.

He went for a superplex.

Leg block from Miller.

Try again.

Blocked again.

Kade released, reared back for a solid punch but connected at the same time that Miller smacked him right across the chin, sending him flying back. But Kade's ankles caught on the buckles and as a result his upper body was slung down, leaving him in a tree of woe position as, simultaneously, Miller went flying back. However. GGM didn't have anything to break his fall.

*SLAM*

...TO THE OUTSIDE.

"OH MY GAAAHDD!!" The commentators' passionate cry echoed throughout the arena, following the possible exemplification of what was to come.

Glen Miller wasn't getting up.

Kinkade, though, was still caught up in the tree of woe position, with blood now rushing to his head. Senior 21w Referee, Ken Rivera began to count Miller down.

1.....

2.....

3.....

4.....

Members of the audience urged Miller on with all their mite, but he still wasn't moving. Kade, meanwhile, was struggling to untangle himself...

5....Finally Kade is successful. Dropping in an uncompromising position, he rolled over as the count reached...

6....

Then 7...

Miller began to move.

Kade slid out, grabbed Miller...

8.....

Rolled him back inside.

Why?

He wanted to become World Heavyweight Champion and he wasn't about to sit around and either a) allow Miller to be counted out, or b) give him anymore time to recover.

Kade wanted to finish it the right way.

...With The Dying Breath.

Fans roared as others watched on speculatively. Kade applied the front facelock and pulled Miller's arm in.

This was it.

Miller was done for.

Kade swung Miller around and prepared to drop him into the reverse DDT....

REVERSAL.

At the last-possible-moment, Miller bent forward, reached back and pulled Kade up by the legs, before turning and lifting Kade up further, with almighty power...the crowd was going insane.

GORILLA PRESS.

Miller Fans: RUAAAAARRRGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Miller screamed out intensely "I'M THE MAN!! I'M IMMORTAL!!!!" He paraded the ring in trademark fashion, thousands of arms flying everywhere. Miller's face was bright red, he was still barking intensely. What was he going to do with Kinkade?

Well...

He'd just used up his last moments to think.

Kade slid down his back.

DYING BREATH.

.....

Kade Fans: RUAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kellen Kinkade had just nailed The Dying Fuckin' Breath on Glen Miller. A man he idolised. He'd done it. He was there. On the border of greatness.

He needed to make the cover, though. And quick...

Arm draped over...

Referee Ken Rivera floated over and drove his hand down into the canvas with authority, as a sense of closure swept across The City of Manchester Stadium.

1....

..2

...

...SHOULDER!!!!!

The stadium errupted into a frenzy. Because Miller had just made history, again.

No one had ever done that.

No one had escaped from Kinkade's patented finisher.

Clearly, Glen Miller was far from taking his Dying Breath...

"WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO?!"

Kade threw his hands up onto his head.

Rivera held up "TWO! TWO" Fingers.

Commentators went berserk, citing Kade's inability to hook the leg as the only thing he did wrong, but it was all immaterial now. It was in the past. There was no going back and Kellen Kinkade knew this. He'd seen Miller do this before and there was no use in him cursing his luck. He needed to do more.

Back on. This time hooking both legs.

1.....

2..

..

KICK OUT!!

Once again, the Miller fans roared.

Tired and wary, Kade then decided to lift Miller up onto his feet and do the first thing that came to mind. He captured Miller around the body, then went to haul him up and over for a belly-to-belly overhead suplex...

But Miller wouldn't budge.

Again.

No can do. Kinkade couldn't get him over. Then, Miller threw his head forward, catching Kade with a headbutt right between the eyes, causing his opponent's arms to instantly be released, grasping at his face as a mandatory reaction. Miller lifted him up in the air...

GUTBUSTER!!

Kade was shoved up and then dropped across Miller's knee, pumping all the life out of him.

Kade rolled around holding his stomach but Miller fell to one knee. He was only just about able to stand. Both men got back up simultaneously. Kade attempted to strike Miller but GGM ducked under and lifted Kade up onto his shoulders, spun around, sprinted towards the middle of the ring and thundered Kade down into the mat with a running powerslam, Davey Boy Smith Style.

*MASSIVE POP*

Miller slowly off the ropes...

Jumped over Kade...

CAUGHT.

Tripped by the ankle. Kade had tripped Miller up as he was about to come off the second set of ropes and deliver The Golden Elbow. The fans gasped once more as Kade sprung to his feet and spun Miller onto his front. Still clutching onto the leg like a rot weiler, Kade turned over it and reared back.

SINGLE LEG BOSTON CRAB.

Fans cheered, fans booed, emotions ran wild but for Glen Miller....his worst nightmare had just come to fruition.

It was "that" leg.

"AAAARRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!" Miller screamed and yelled under the excruciating pain, but Kade flicked his head back and growled, looking up into the night sky as Miller shook his head...and began to crawl towards the ropes, summoning all his strength.

Kade yanked him back.

Grimmacing, Miller let out another groan, but then made yet another push for the ropes. He was within close proximity but Kade was standing firm. He had the single leg boston crab locked on like a vice. Referee Ken Rivera was in Miller's face, constantly begging the question, but Miller shook his head, aching, crying out in anguish. His arms flailed, extending themselves as much as was humanly possible...

Kade wouldn't let go.

BUT MILLER GRABBED ONTO THE ROPES.

*ALMIGHTY CHEER*

Miller had done it.

But something was wrong.

Kade wasn't letting go.

The referee jumped in his face, yelling at him but still, Kellen Kinkade refused to let go of the hold.

"LET HIM GO KELLEN!! LET HIM GO!!"

"NO!!!!"

"LET HIM GO OR I'LL DISQUALIFY YOU!! HE'S GOT THE ROPES!! LET HIM GO!!"

"NEVER!!!"

Miller now yelling under the intense strain. Much more of this and Kade was going to snap that leg in half.

The noise levels were deafening. Rivera tried to yank Kade off but, just like the rot weiler, the grip was stronger than glue. Rivera barked at Kade AGAIN...ORDERING him to let go. But like the man possessed that he was, Kade just shook his head.

Miller was on the verge of passing out now...

But Rivera had nowhere to go. He suddenly turned and pointed to the announce to ring the bell.

*DING DING DING DING!!*

The match was over.

Kade had lost and he had only himself to blame. He had been unable to find a way out of the match and now his body had been taken over.

*DING DING DING DING*

He still wasn't letting go.

Miller: .....

*DING DING DING DING*

This was awful.

More officials rushed the ring, slid in, then tackled Kade to the ground.

Finally, the hold had been broken...

But at what price?

Miller lay motionless. Kade was pinned down by the officials but he eventually managed to break free. He slid under the bottom rope and looked at the ring announcer standing next to the time keeper...

*DING DING DING*

Announcer: The winner of this match, as a result of a disqualification...and STILL *POP* 21w HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WOORRLLD!!...'GOLDEN'!!!...

Kade had his hands on his head.

Announcer: GLEN!!...MILLERRRRRRR!!!

Sections of the crowd were cheering. But the other, more intelligent half, were worried for Miller's health because they knew that 1. He still had The Iliad to compete in and 2. He was now the man to compete for the Immortal Title, against the winner of Inmate/Hughes.

Miller was placed on a stretched by EMT's and carried out under the ring. Kade watched him, mouth agape, as if unsure of what had just happened...as if he'd just been in a trance. Fans booed him, he shook his head. The video wall then showed a replay of Kade refusing to let go of the hold whilst Miller's hand was clearly grasping the rope.

Kade called for a microphone and then ran after Miller.

"What have I done?....I'm sorry...I'm so sorry Glen."

The replay was still going....and the horror on Kinkade's face was there for all to see. Obviously he wasn't in control of his actions. In those final few minutes he had become somebody he hated. And that wasn't him. Now he was regretting it, but the damage had been done.

As Kinkade ran to the back helping the medics to shepherd the injured Miller to safety, that element of doubt now had to be running through the mind of every witness in the stadium and all those watching at home...

Was Miller going to make it?

Mega Job stood in a backstage area. Actually, Beef and Janito were standing, while Steve just sat on Oddjob. Some poor shmuck who was obviously assigned to interview sulked into view and groaned. He *so* didn't want to do this.

"Beef. Janito. Steve. We are unfortunately just moments away from watching you and the Bowell Movement do stuff. The question is... what style of match are we seeing? Actually, I think the real question is "can we skip past this match and do something else?"."

Beef scratched his goatee.

"MEAAAAAANNNNN... WHOO! BY-GAWD, GENE!"

"I'm not Mean Ge-" the reporter started, but Beef interrupted him.

"You know somethin', Mean Gene... as I look about this see of Beefamaniacs, I realize that with my twenty-four inch rabid badgers, we can literally save this fledging promotion known as the WWF and start a NEW era for Beefamaniacs everywhere! And as the great floods splash the land, Beefamania shall team up with the Pokemaniacs, and there will be much rejoicing."

Janito slapped him upon the head.

"You twat. We were supposed to explain this delightful match to the viewers at home, and then you had to go all Hogan on us all. Where in the sodding hell is Brock Lesnar when you need him to shut your piehole?"

Ricky Wasp happened to walk by and punched Beef in the head for the hell of it.

"Owwwww!!!" Beef yelled, before he fell over. Janito looked down at him, and looked over at the departing Ricky Wasp.

"Well, close enough."

The reporter shook his head and held his microphone to Steve. "Okay, little guy, please inform me just what the hell this match is."

"DEATH."

Pause.

"MATCH."

The reporter shook his head. "That doesn't explain anything!"

Janito took the microphone from the reporter and translated for him, and for anyone else. "Well, you twat, if you had bloody paid attention, this is a "Oh Shit, I'm supposed to leave for work at 8:30, it's now 8:40, and I haven't gotten dressed yet, because I've been thinking about deathmatch titles" Death Match! Any bloody tosser could've figured that one out.

Basically, we take a cage, and put some crap on it. Beef and Zotan defend their titles, Jacob and I defend our tossing titles, and Steve puts his title against... whatever load of cobblers Vendetta has. Whoever escapes first out of these gets the other's sodding title. And, of course, whichever team escapes first wins the whole bloody match. Got that, chief?"

The reporter snatched his microphone back. "Don't you ever snatch this out of my hand again."

Janito snatched the microphone.

The reporter punched him down, to send Janito to join Beef on the floor.

The reporter calmly walked away, leaving Janito and Beef to pick themselves up off of the floor.

"Mark. What did you want to tell me?"

Joey Malone, along with Chris Tyson and Keri Lindum, walked up toward Mark Knight, who was busy doing whatever he does best. Mark recognized the voice and the face of Joey Malone and decided that he'd better tell him.

"Well, I know you wanted an Asylum-style match with Milo Samus, but there's some complications." Mark said.

Joey just shrugged.

"Well, if I can't have the Asylum match, then a normal will do fine." Joey said. However, Mark sighed and looked up at Joey.

"Joey. Your original opponent, Milo Samus, wigged out. He's not here. And I know that you wanted a match, so we found you a decent replacement." Mark Knight said, before he smiled.

"His name is Kent Anthason. Heard of him?"

Joey's jaw dropped. Kent Anthason? Not THE Kent Anthason? When the hell did he get involved with the Asylum? "You're kidding."

"What? Don't like it?" Mark asked, disappointed. However, Joey just smiled.

"No. I like it. In fact, why don't we just go ahead and make this the most hardcore kind of Asylum match they have?" Joey asked. "They have an Extreme title, don't they? Obviously, they must have Extreme rules."

Mark scratched his head. "I dunno, Joey. As much as I'd like that, you're putting yourself at great risk. Are you sure?"

"Positive. This is worth it."

With that, Joey turned to Tyson. "Hey, big guy. Tell the others not to get involved with this match for me. This is my business."

Tyson grunted. "You sure?"

"Positive."

Tyson shrugged, and then left. Joey turned to see Keri's look of well-meaning concern. She remembered all too well about the last time Joey Malone met Kent Anthason.

"Don't give me that look. I know what I'm doing."

Joey walked away, leaving Keri to ask him as he's walking away.

"Do you?"

Contrast.

Ty Hughes, the man who never could... the man who never would, during his tenure in the Asylum... chances had passed him by, he'd had more Asylum championship shots than he could remember, he just never seemed to win any of them.

Victim of circumstance, it was what Ty Hughes had condemned himself to be, there always seemed to be a reason... a greater good for his failure, be it an interference from an unseen enemy, his own form... or just plain bad luck, when the Asylum Championship came calling for Ty Hughes, he never seemed to be there to answer.

Hughes had always been tipped for Asylum success, he'd tasted victory before, he'd tasted championships before... but never the big prize, never the Asylum Championship... never the only thing that was his hearts desire.

He'd been with the Asylum for a long time, almost since the beginning... he'd seen people come and go, flavours of the month arrive and depart, next big things turn out to be next big nothings... but one thing was always for certain, Ty Hughes... and the Asylum.

He'd gone through good times, and bad times... he'd been a rookie wrestler who took beatings in the beginnings, and he'd been a television champion, but it was the main strap which had always evaded him... Hughes was contemplating giving up on it altogether, until once again... Joe Campbell dangled the bait before his face.

Immortals.

Ty Hughes was there, and there was nothing anyone could do about it... he had his shot at the Asylum championship once again, his shot at the bigtime... and this time, the bigtime was even bigger than ever before.

A chance not only to exorcise the demons of defeat, but in it... a chance to not only become the champion of the Asylum, but the champion of it all... the champion of the war, the champion of wrestling and fighting.

The Immortal Champion.

As "Brutality" by Urban Voodoo echoed throughout the arena... the Asylum fans rose to their feet to appreciate one of their longest serving fighters, while the 21wrestling fans would serve merely as indifferent spectators for this one... it would still surely be a treat for them to witness... the winner would go on to face Golden Glen Miller, who just minutes ago... left the opening match of Immortals on a stretcher.

The winner of this one, would have a better chance at being Immortal than anyone else.

As Hughes burst from behind the curtain, he didn't have far to go to reach the Asylum... sitting just to the side of the ramp and well within the thick of the fans... he stepped into the Asylum for what may have been his last match as a man without a championship belt.

Tyler Burton.

He wasn't the man who never could, not by any means... Tyler Burton was the Asylum in flesh and blood form, he was to the Asylum as Tommy Dreamer was to ECW, as Steve Austin was to the WWE... as Ric Flair was to WCW.

He was the epitome, the man who'd set the bar for violence, the Inmate had been Asylum since the beginning... through the rough and the smooth, he'd been an Asylum champion before... but none of his runs had ever been as solid as this one, at FightHell2 he defeated Nerva convincingly to pick up the Asylum championship for a second time, and since then... the man had looked invincible.

Within the Asylum walls, it had been speculated that the Inmate was developing a mental condition that would ultimately be his undoing, and the current misconception was that Ty Hughes had a better chance than ever of becoming the Asylum champion.

If only they knew.

Joe Campbell, with Token Weed gone... was the only man that knew about Tyler's fragile mental condition... and he also knew that it was far from making him any weaker, quite the opposite... because Tyler Burton thought that he was Pete Borst, and in it... thought he was capable of much more violent acts, so far... it'd proved to be a success... Joe had been turning Tyler Burton into something ugly, and he'd passed every test thrown before him.

Including the more recent Token Weed.

Tyler Burton was as ready for his match with Ty Hughes as ever... and with a victory in the bag, he was fully prepared to take away the "Immortal" tagline above Golden Glen Miller's name.

"I Disappear" by Metallica played across the speakers, and the Asylum champion burst through the curtain garnering a massive cheer from the attending Asylum fans... sitting around his waist, the glinting silver Asylum Championship... he made his way down the aisle and clambered straight into the Asylum... no delay, no hesitation... he paced straight over to Ty Hughes, and the two stood eye to eye, before the Inmate suddenly backed away and started to unstrap the title.

Thud.

The sound of the belt hitting Ty Hughes in the chest... Hypnosis caught the belt and glared the Inmate in the eye as he stood before him.

"Take a good look fuckhead... because that's the closest yer' ever gonna get to it." Inmate sneered as Hypnosis looked down at the silver title sitting in his arms... after a few seconds of gazing... Hypnosis dropped the title belt to the floor nonchalantly... the mind games were well and truly on already, in handing Hypnosis the belt... Tyler had already blown of Ty's plan of not thinking what was on the line, and by dropping the belt on the ground... Hypnosis had just dropped the compilation of almost two years of Inmate's blood sweat and tears onto the canvas...

And then...

... then he kicked it across the canvas.

Breaking point.

The crowd exploded as Inmate rushed across the Asylum outraged, throwing wild punches at Ty Hughes, who's mindgame had now backfired... instead of putting Inmate off, it'd merely snapped something in his head, Inmate blasted Ty around the head with punches as he desperately attempted to get up some guard... failing that and beind caught with several stiff shots to the temple, he desperately threw out a large punch of his own...

Only to be caught and reeled in.

THUD!

Inmate tossed all 255lbs of Ty Hughes over his head like he was nothing, the Hypnotic one landed with a crash and a thud on the canvas several feet away, as Tyler Burton popped up to his feet... Hughes was up quickly too however... clearly upset by Inmate's early advantage.

"You'll do good to just stay down, punk." Inmate snarled, as Hughes boiler up with rage... rushing at the Asylum champion with all of his might, Inmate had other ideas however, sidestepping the rushing contender and allowing him to rush rib first into the Asylum rim!

As Hughes backed up clutching his ribs, Inmate took him around the waist... one again hurling him across the Asylum like a bag of feathers... this time with a belly to back German Suplex!

Hughes hit the canvas with another huge thud, and popped up once again enraged... clearly upset with his own performance... he started to pace around Burton, thinking over his next move.

"What's the matter boy?" Tyler gauded "You havin' second thoughts?"

the Inmate brock a mocking smirk as Hughes once again snapped, rushing at Burton with all his might, the experienced Inmate countered once again however, snapping around into another waistlock, before picking up Hughes and dropping him face first on the canvas... in fighting, this was the most vulnerable position to be in... Inmate arrogantly slapped Hughes across the back of the head before getting to his feet.

"Come on fucker!" Hughes sneered as he got up "Fucking hit me!"

"Maybe I should be saying that to you Ty, you're tha' one that's getting the snot whipped outta him!" Inmate replied, as Ty once again rushed in, Inmate used his guile once again, slipping behind Hughes and locking in another waistlock, this time however... Ty Hughes blocked the throw attempt and twisted to face Inmate, before picking him up by the legs and tackling him to the canvas.

THWACK!

THWACK!

THWACK!

"Ohhhh!" The crowd roared, as Hughes send two solid jabs into the face of the Inmate before following up with a hard elbow strike... as Ty got up he mouthed the words "Now who's throwing the shots, bitch." at Inmate... who's nose was now bleeding profusely as he got to his feet... the time for trash talk was over, this fight was well and truly on.

Inmate rose to his feet, the blood now running into his mouth, as Ty rushed in once again... Inmate used one of the dirtiest tricks in the street fighting encyclopedia... spitting his own blood in the eyes of the opponent, the crowd grunted and grimaced in disgust as Hughes wiped his eyes, disgraced... he didn't see Inmate rushing in to apply the second phase of the trick... punching the opponent in the face as they tried to clear their eyes.

CRUNCH!

A stunning right hook by the Inmate send Hughes to the canvas, where he became subject to a ruthless number of hard toe end boots to the ribs... Hughes tried to struggle up to his feet, but was stopped half way as Inmate placed a forearm across his throat... and started to lock his hand across.

A simple sleeper hold, but if Tyler Burton locked it in fully across the throat, Ty Hughes... for lack of better term, was fucked.

Hughes stuggled desperately, tucking his chin into his chest and fending off the lock with his hands... finally he got to his feet and had a hand on each of Burton's wrist... spinning, he stood face to face with the Inmate, only to recieve a shocking surprise.

SMACK!

A swift headbutt from the Inmate, catching hughes just below the eye... as Hughes staggered back, Tyler rushed in... butt his own devices were this time his own downfall, just as Burton had done to Hughes earlier on, Hughes did to Burton... sidestepping the Asylum champion and allowing him to run full steam ahead into the unforgiving mesh... the irony of Hughes' assault had not yet fully been realised however, as he locked a waistlock around the Inmate... and hurled him to the mat with a thud... via a release German suplex!

"Ohhhhhhh!" The crowd exclaimed, more in concern that anything else, Burton rushed up furiously... being suplexed wasn't his forte... and he rushed at Hughes once again with rage in his eyes, only to be caught heavily in the bread basket with a knee from the Hypnotic one... as Inmate doubles over to cough and splurt, Hughes took a few steps back...

BLAM!

Sledgehammer!

A massive polish hammer, knocking Inmate face down to the canvas with a thud... Hughes could feel it now, a the chance to win... a sight of the title which had always illuded him... he stepped back as the tA fans started to raise to their feet... all of his gestures... his positioning, suggested that he was about to look for the running DDT!

Inmate, slowly but surely... staggered up to his feet, as he slowly reached a doubled over position... Hughes rushed in and hooked his head...

...

CHICKEN WING SUPLEX!

INTO THE OFFICIAL!

With fans exploded in shock, Hughes rushed in, locking the Inmate's head and pulling back for his trademark stiff DDT, but Burton didn't budge... he simply stood firm, twisting Hughes' arm behind his back and spinning, suplexing the 6'4" 255lb demon into the match official, knocking both of them to the canvas with a thud!

As the two lay motionless... Inmate suddenly paused in a somewhat sadistic trance... his face focused on a steel chair which lay propped up just outside the Asylum... with a familiar glow in his eyes, he approached it... pulling it over and into the Asylum... as a weary Hughes staggered to his feet, the realisation of what was about to occur set in... and a chant broke out throughout the Asylum gathering.

"FUCKHEAD! FUCKHEAD! FUCKHEAD!"

The fans were on their feet now, as Hughes slowly turned to face the Inmate, and saw a steel chair flying towards his face... instinct kicked in and he caught it...

WHOOOOOOSH!

The sound of Tyler Burton throwing a vicious punch and hitting nothing but thin air, Ty Hughes had dodged aside, as Burton turned it was he whom saw a chair flying toward him, catching it... he never had time to...

By Ty Hughes! The crowd erupted as Inmate fell motionless and bleeding to the canvas, Hughes fell to one knee... was this his moment? Was this the culmination of two years of bleeding, bruising and pain?

Hypnotiser.

It was.

Hughes locked on the Texas Cloverleaf, it wasn't elevated this time however, he sat it in completely, Inmate had nowhere to go, no ropes to grab... no escape... he tried a short crawl, but to no avail, Hughes simply wrenched back the hold to an extreme length.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

Inmate tapped out.

The crowd roared in shock, as Inmate's hand pummeled the canvas in submission, Hughes roared out victoriously, and continued to clench in the hold... however... what he did not see, did the greatest harm of all.

Joe Campbell.

The crowd were now popping with shock, Campbell emerged from within them, leaping over the Asylum rim and passing the official who was steadily getting to his feet, he was about to see Tyler Burton tapping out.

THWACK!

"Stay down fucker!" Joe snarled, sending a quick boot to the official's ribs "You ain't seen nothin."

Joe picked up the chair... and started to measure up...

"Sorry mate, wrong time, wrong place... just your luck." Joe grunted as he walked away, he'd just blasted Ty Hughes square in the fash with a chairshot... popping his nose in a shower of blood, Hughes fell forwards... rolling the momentum and allowing Inmate the split second he needed to roll back... snatch up a limb, and lock in SNAP!

The official staggered up to his feet, still dazed from the blow and the kick to the ribs, he stumbled to the canvas to check on Hughes, who was out for the count... one arm gesture later... "I Disappear" by Metallica was playing.

Inmate had won.

Inmate would face Golden Glen Miller in the final.

Burton staggered across the Asylum and snatched up his title belt, holding it aloft... he clambered up the Asylum and made his way to the back... as he did, Ty Hughes came to his senses, he could hear Inmate's music... he could feel warm blood trickling down his face... and he could hear those words over and over again.

"Sorry mate, wrong time, wrong place... just your luck."

Backstage, we cut to the 21w medical room. Inside we find a doctor, Glen Miller laying on a table, groaning...Kellen Kinkade.....and 21w Owner, Mark Knight. The Owner turns to Kade and shakes his head.

"What the hell happened out there?"

Kade looks extremely despondent and is rubbing his cheeks whilst trying to catch his breath back...

"I have no idea what came over me, Mark. I can't believe it. I can't express how sorry I am. I was in a zone, I couldn't get out of it. I so desperately wanted to go on and compete for the Immortal Title. I needed to, Mark. You know how much I detest fighting. Ah, I'm sorry. What more can I say?"

Knight nodded as the doctor approached him.

"I understand."

Kade breathed a sigh of relief as the doctor sat down and Knight asked quizically..."Well?"

"He should be fine..."

*Even bigger sigh of relief*

Kinkade felt like a ton of bricks had just been removed from his shoulders as Knight put his hand on his heart. "Yeah?"

"Indeed. With pain killers and some more support he, he won't be 100% by any means....But he'll be able to compete. I'm not going to argue with you, Knight. If it were up to me I wouldn't put him out there. But I know what this means to you...and Glen. I won't lie to you. It's bad....BUT, as I say, to cut a long story short, he should be capable of competing."

"He WILL be capable..." Knight shot back, before turning around and exiting the room.

He'd come this far...

Joe Campbell waited inside his office for the inevitable to happen. He tapped his foot in impatience and for one reason or another, wanted this night to be over. He wanted everything to go smoothly...

But when you have Eddie Scott Poser bursting into your office, smoothly just leapt directly out the window.

"What th... Who the hell are you! What the hell are you doing in my office!" Joe screamed, pointing at who is now a frightented King of Poser. Joe picked up the phone. "Securit..."

Poser cut him off, as all Joe now heard on the line was a dead tone. Campbell stood in shock at what a stupid moron Poser is for actually doing that. "Listen Campbell, I've tried being reasonable, I've tried proving myself. Now I'm demanding. I want a job with the Asylum."

Campbell thought for a second. "NO!"

"Listen, hear me out."

"Fuck you" Campbell retored. "Listen, we don't have enough time to deal with your bloody shit. I've got a war with 21w to wage and you, hopefully to be taken offense to, are at the bottom of my list of bloody priorities!"

"Then let me prove myself!" Poser shouted. "I want to prove how super cool of a fighter personality I am!"

Campbell blinked. "Are you saying... you want in the illiad?"

Poser's jaw dropped. "NO FREAKIN' WAY! That just scares me. I just want to interview the fighters! You know, do the whole Coach thing."

"I'm not going to pay you shit for that."

"I'll take peanuts instead!"

Joe thought about it, and shook Poser's hand. Anything to get him out of his office.

The "Oh Shit, I'm supposed to leave for work at 8:30, it's now 8:40, and I haven't gotten dressed yet, because I've been thinking about deathmatch titles" Death Match

The Bowell Movement(Zotan -ndj-, Jacob Utsler -sc-, and Vendetta -f-) vs. Mega Job(Beef -m-, El Janito -ngs-, and Steve -bao-)

There is only one song in the face of the planet that could possibly ruin Immortals.

"Super Bon Bon" by Soul Coughing.

Out came Mega Job, carrying their title belts. Janito was carrying the title belt known only as the "Non-Gender Specific Title", while Beef had the "Medicore Title" around his waist. Meanwhile, Steve was trying to hold the "Big Assed Ocean Title" above his head, but the title was actually bigger than Steve, himself, and Steve toppled over backwards.

Behind them, Ken War was carrying Oddjob on behalf of Steve. While it's rather inevitable that Ken War's appearance could only mean that he's going to die soon, he's rather helpful right now. Mega Job dropped off their title belts, and Steve was handed Oddjob. They stood outside the ring and waited for their opponents.

What they got surprised a lot of people.

Suddenly, the Bowell Movement came out on the Flintstones' car, powered by their feet. They proceeded to drive up to the ring, run over Ken War(killing him as usual), and exit the car. Zotan had the cardboard North Dakotan Janitorweight title around his waist, while Utsler had the Softcore title over his shoulder. Meanwhile, Vendetta appeared to have Fishie strapped around his waist. Mega Job and the Bowell Movement made with a staredown on the outside of the ring.

Then, they all looked up.

Except for Vendetta, he just watched his hand move.

And Beef seemed to be looking at an attractive girl's breasts.

For some unexplained reason, a WCW-style triple-cage was helicoptered into the arena and dumped right over the wrestling ring. In it were a playground set (sand box, swings and monkey bars) in the bottom cage, a bouncy castle in the middle cage, and a water slide in the final cage that led down to the arena floor, as well as a diving board. Ring attendants wheeled out a giant ball pit under the diving board.

Janito, Steve, Zotan, and Utsler all looked at the monstrosity with a look of "WTFMF?!".

"Man, we wanted this to just have a jungle gym." Zotan commented.

"We wanted the bouncy castle and maybe a water slide!" Janito added.

"BALLS." Steve chipped in.

All four men shrugged and entered. Janito and Utsler quickly ran back out of the bottom cage before the bell rang and dragged Beef and Vendetta into the cage with them.

The bell rang.

Let's get this over with.

Oh, wait, no, let's not, because Janito seemed to be getting fancy and climbed onto the monkey bars. He proceeded to hang upside down on the bars by his legs, and drink some tea.

Vendetta seemed to be swatting at something buzzing around his head, while Zotan and Beef quickly began their usual girly fight, complete with the pulling of the hair and rolling around the canvas. Jacob Utsler and Steve seemed to have picked up some chalk and were busy drawing what appeared to be a hopskotch pad on the outside of the ring.

Well.

Nobody ever said that we had Harvard graduates in this match.

As Jacob Utsler threw a stone into the chalk number 5, Chris Nowinski walks down to the ring and stared at the awesome.....well....awe-FULL structure, then turned and left again.

Back in the "ring", Vendetta continued to swat away at the insect as the huge monster began backing away from it towards the monkey bars that Janito hung from.

But Beef & Zotan continued to roll around on the canvas, trying to get on top of the other.

Suddenly the action kicked off as Vendetta spun around to slap the insect but instead caught El Janito across the face, causing him to drop his tea. Janito's face turned a bright red as he lowered himself onto the canvas to face Vendetta.

"YOU SPILT MY TEA! THAT'S WASN'T YOUR PG TIPS, THAT WAS EARL F'N' GRAY"

Janito swung at Vendetta, who simply placed a hand on Janito's head and held him away at arm's length. Rights and lefts from Janito hitting nothing but air as Vendetta held him at bay with one hand and started to swat away at the insect AGAIN with the other.

Donkey Kong and Diddy Kong entered the ringside area carrying stools and sat in front of climbing equipment.

Jacob Utsler looked at them and just shruged it off as normal as he continued to hop around on the chalked board. Steve began looking at his watch impatiently..... "TURN?" he inquired.

But Jacob continued to hop around and started to turn whilst doing it......."W" said the Softcore Eye-corn......"O" he followed up with.........."R" he continued............"M" he finished.......

"Hang on, worm ARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH" Jacob screamed at the thought of the creature.

Steve having grown impatient (a midget growing impatient...must be a joke somewhere) charged forward and headbutted Jacob in the groin with a spear type move.

"OW." said Steve before clutching his head and falling on the floor as Jacob Utsler removeed his protective cup and smiled.

Meanwhile, Donkey & Diddy Kong were getting frustrated and began leaping up and down and throwing their feces at Vendetta and El Janito. El Janito & Vendetta looked on in shock, but retaliated by throwing the Kong's feaces back, along with some of their own. The Kongs quickly ran out of the ring and began charging up the aisle backstage.

"FINE, WE DIDN'T WANT TO STAY HERE ANYWAY!!" yelled Diddy Kong.

"YEAH!" replied Donkey, "YOUR MONKEY BAR HASN'T EVEN GOT ANY BEER!"

Janito began to look around for the beer. He turned to look at Vendetta. "Hey, you. Big guy. Do we have any beer?"

Vendetta looked puzzled. "Furby?"

"That wasn't even bloody close to what I said, you sodding twat." Janito yelled. He jumped up and down and got all mad, and his last jump caught Zotan right in the groin as he rolled under Janito.

Predictably, Zotan clutched his baby-maker and groaned in pain, allowing Beef to get off of him. Janito began to climb up one of the ladders on the monkey bars as Beef held up Zotan's legs.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!??!!"

"WHAT ARE YO- ...dude, no. There's no bloody way I'm jumping into THAT."

As Beef tried to argue, Zotan reversed the position he was in and proceeded to drive both of his fists repeatedly into Beef's groin, causing Beef to predictably scream like a girl.

Janito looked up at the big cage that was above him and started to cling on to its celing like monkey bars. He started to head for the exit of the first cage just as Zotan got bored of beating Beef's ballocks and began to climb up, himself.

Meanwhile, Jacob's fatal mistake of actually removing his protective cup seemed to have cost him, as Steve got back to his feet and charged at Jacob with the Clothesline From Shanghai. However, Jacob seemed to have a SECOND cup in his pants, and Steve held his arm in pain. "OUCH."

Jacob looked around and kinda realized that Janito was hanging from the roof of the cage, so he pulled out a Nerf Bazooka from underneath the ring and began firing a barrage of balls out of it toward Janito. One of them hit Janito square in the head and he fell with a scream of "BLOODY HELL!". He landed in the sand box with a dull thunk causing a huge cloud to rise up and he began screaming in pain.

"MY BLOODY... LEG! YES! MY BLOODY LEG IS HURTING LIKE BELIEF! AHHH!!!"

Utsler looked on with great confusion, before shrugging. He saw that Beef was getting up and he charged in on him for a spear. However, Beef actually saw it coming and proceeded to move aside. Thusly, Utsler ends up getting stuck in the tire swing.

"Ahhh!!!" Utsler screamed.

Beef grinned and proceeded to kick Utsler in the ass. Literally. Then Janito fake-limped over and then kicked Utsler in the ass with his bad leg. And he didn't even sell it. Then Steve ran over and launched a double-team dropkick that involved Beef lifting Steve skyward and Steve hitting Jacob right in the ass with the dropkick.

Then, Zotan turned to Vendetta. "Hmm. That kinda looks like fun."

With that, Zotan proceeded to kick Utsler in the ass. Vendetta shrugged and did the same thing, and his shot managed to dislodge Utsler from the tire.

Utsler held his ass in pain from the kicking. Zotan looked in confusion, before he shrugged and turned to Beef. "Can I kick your ass in Pokemon again?"

"No."

Zotan frowned and put away his Pokeball that contained the evil that was Martha Stewart.

And that's right around the time when Vendetta accidently punched a hole in the side of the cage in an attempt to hit the buzzing thing.

"Oopsie." said Vendetta.

"SILLYKINS" shouted Jacob, as he stood up from the tire spanking, "I hope we've not got to pay for the damages......wait, I can get my stuff in now."

Vendetta grined insanely, "JACOB!"

"WHAT?" smiled Jacob back.

"GET DA TABLES!" replied the big jackass.

Steve began to get up slowly as Jacob reached under the ring apron and pulled out.........a large sheet of cardboard with numbers on it. Steve turned to face Jacob.

"2 times 2 is 4..." shouted Jacob........"3 times 3 is 9" he follows up with.

Yes. Those kind of tables.

Steve covered his ears at the power of the times tables, but Jacob continued to verbally assault Steve by reading out his list.

"The hell is going on with Steve?" said Janito....."Wait, that little punk's reading out sums. NOOOOOOO, Steve's Arithmophobia is legendary and well documented. How did Jacob Utsler know about it?"

Beef, noticably limping from Zotan's testicular assault, limped toward Janito and saw what was going on.

"Oh, man, I knew I shouldn't have taken Jacob's Big Weaknesses of Mega Job Quiz when he asked that I take it." Beef said.

Janito blinked.

"You're a sodding moron, you know that?" Janito complained, before he pulled out a candy bar from his utility belt and approached Vendetta.

"Oohhhhh Vendetttaaaa..... look what I got for you, you twat?" Janito asked, tauntingly holding up the candy bar. Vendetta looked at the candy lovingly, and took a step toward Janito.

"Food!"

Jacob stopped reading the time tables and looked over at Vendetta. "Wendybendy! No! Do not be tempted by the Dark Side of the Food!"

This gave Steve ample time to aim a dropkick toward Jacob's nuts. And, yet again, Jacob seemed to have a third cup in his crotch, so Steve bounced off harmlessly.

"Food?" Vendetta asked, taking another step toward Janito and his candy bar. Jacob ran out in front of Vendetta and attempted to restrain him from the food.

"Wendy! WENDY! No candy!"

Vendetta shoved Jacob aside, just as Beef ran off of the ropes and went for a flying plancha. He bounced off of Vendetta's body while Vendetta was completely unphased.

"Yes, yes... there's a good sodding retard... come and get your nice treat..." Janito said, with a fake grin. It is noticable that while Janito was holding up his candy bar, he held a mallet behind his back.

"Yes... come here. Vendetta..."

Vendetta reached out for the candy bar.....just as Jacob looks up from the canvas. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO" screams Utsler.

Vendetta grabbed the candy and held it aloft as if it was a trophy of some kind. But not for long as Janito brought the mallet out from behind his back and smashed Vendetta on the head with it. The squeek echoed though the arena......yes, SQUEEK!

Janito looked at the mallet in sheer confusion. "The hell?"

Janito nailed Vendetta several more times in the head with the squeaky mallet, before he turned to Beef.

"Where did you buy this from?" he asked Beef.

"Found it, in kiddie sand pit when I dropped Steve off at kindergarden."

Janito shook and quivered and looked really angry. Beef almost pissed his pants when Janito finally screamed.

"YOU FUNKWIT!" screamed El Janito in response.

Janito tossed the mallet away, but it bounced back off the cell wall and went back towards him. Janito dove to the floor as the mallet sailed harmlessly over him.......striking Beef right between the eyes and causing him to topple forward and crush El Janito. "GAAAAAA, If we ever get out of this, you're going on a diet."

Janito crawled out from underneath the downed Beef, and looked up to see Vendetta still clutching the candy bar.

"WENDY, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"

Jacob Utsler got back to his feet and dove towards his brother.......missing him by several feet and landing on top of El Janito.

Steve finally entered the ring having recovered from his attack of Arithmophobia and leapt on top of the Beef, El Janito, Jacob Utsler heap, for no reason other than the fact he thought it'd be fun. Meanwhile, Zotan had also gotten up, but was leaning against one of the ring posts and flicking through the latest copy of Playdude magazine.

"Mmmmmm..." said Zotan. "Mammary glands."

Vendetta finally had enough of looking at the candy bar and shoved it in his mouth complete with wrapper. He grined for a bit, but then dropped to his knees and began screaming in pain.

Everyone else stopped what they were doing, got up, and began backing away from him.

"YOU BASTARD, WHAT DID YOU PUT IN THAT CANDY BAR!?" yelled Zotan.

"Nothing!" replied El Janito, "It's just a basic run of the mill candy bar."

"You fool, did you not realise what happens when Vendetta eats candy?" shouted Jacob Utsler.

Vendetta slowly got to his feet and started shaking rapidly and looking around the ring with a manic look in his eyes.

"You mean?" said Beef.

"Yes." said Jacob "He's become your worst nightmare!"

"You mean... I'M NEVER GOING TO GET LAID?!?!" Beef yelled.

"NOOOO, not even Roseanne Barr, buck naked!!" shouted Zotan.

"COSBY?" yelled Steve.

"Neither of those, for my brother has become..........." dramatic music played.....all 5 men looked around for the source of the music.....then shruged it off as Jacob continued. "He has become......HYPER MAN!!"

More dramatic music as the "giant goof", Vendetta continued to look around the ring before he stopped and peered over towards the group.

"Oh, shiznit on a pole match!" yelled Jacob, "He's got the scent, someone's got more chocolate...RUN!!"

The five men scampered in different directions as Vendetta charged towards them......failed to stop and ran right through the cell wall to the outside, several feet away from the ring. He stopped, turned around, and ran back towards the ring making a different hole next to the original.

"CRAP." shouted Steve as he reached into his pocket to reveal another candy bar.

"GET RID OF IT!!" shouted Jacob, reaching out in desperation with his yell.

And that's what Steve did, he threw it to Beef. Who panicked and threw it to Zotan, who threw it back to Steve, who threw it to El Janito, who threw it to Jacob Utsler, who ran around with it for a bit, before tossing it high into the air, where the wrapping came off and caused the chocolate to fall onto Steve's head.

"CHOCO-STEVE!!!" yelled Hyper-Detta or Vend-Hyper or Vending Machine or ahhhh, who cares.

Vendetta then started chasing a chocolate covered Steve around the ring as the other four men watched on. Steve managed to get himself trapped in the corner and Vendetta caught him. He picked Steve up and shoved his head into his mouth.

"Riiiiiiiiiiiight" said Janito. "Anyway, where were we?"

"Beating the heck out of each other?" suggested Jacob.

"Oh yeah, shall we carry on then?" asked Beef.

*Scratching his ass* "Might as well". replied Zotan.

And that's exactly what they did.

Or, at least, they tried to do it, before Ken War charged into the cage, wielding a large board, and screaming. "hardkorr bored!!"

He whacked Vendetta in the back, but this just annoyed Vendetta. Vendetta spat out Steve and looked at Ken War, who had a look on his face similar to "uh oh". Then, to the shock of many, he grabbed Ken War by his throat, and hits the chokeslam off of the ropes. Ken War went flying to the outside and landed on his head, killing him.

Jacob Utsler looked elated and jumped up and down. "You did it, Wendy! You did it! You actually hit your finisher!"

It was a miracle...

...For the first time in almost a year and a half, Vendetta had hit his finishing move.

Vendetta looked around before he went to the outside and started gnawing on Ken War's carcass. Meanwhile, Zotan and Beef just randomly decided to climb up to the second tier of the cage tower and start hopping around in the bouncy castle. Beef challenged Zotan, and Zotan's all like "BRING IT", and they charged at each other and did a Matrix-like double hair-pull that sent both psychopaths to opposite sides of the bouncy castle.

Jacob and Janito glanced upwards at this in amazement. "Well, I'll be a rotting corpse! I have to try that bloody stuff!"

And quickly did Janito start climbing up to the second tier. Jacob looked up, and did a double-take. He seemed to be the only one of the six that really knew what was at stake.

"Hey! Come the Dory Funk Jr. back here!" Utsler yelled. "I'm taking the express shuttle". Jacob grabbed one of the tyre swings and backed away until the rubber was stretched to critical. He then quickly climbed inside the tyre and let it go, catapalting himself up through the cage hole to the next tier.

Steve, who was busy wiping away Vendetta's saliva from his face, saw this and decided to join them.

Vendetta remained on the bottom tier to gnaw on Ken War only stopping for a second to lick his lips and mumble "Needs apple sauce."

Meanwhile, on the middle tier, Zotan was kicking Beef's ass. Literally. No, this isn't surprising, he's probably done this before. Remember, children, these two are true professionals. Please, do not practice their stupidity at home.

Zotan got bored of this kicking of ass, and decided to kick Beef right in the balls, instead.

"HOLY JESUS CRAP DAMN! MUST YOU DO THAT?!" was Beef's response to the kick.

"Well, yeah." Zotan said, before Steve tapped him on his kneecap with his foot. Zotan turned to Steve questioningly.

"Yeah, what do you want?"

"PROFESSIONAL." Steve said, before whacking Zotan in the nutsack with the Clothesline From Shanghai. Zotan fell over, clutching his nuts, and Steve grinned upon finally hitting someone in the nuts for once. He turned and saw Utsler trying to choke out Janito with a bra, and uttered his patented warcry.

"DEATH."

He charged toward Utsler and delivered another Clothesline From Shanghai. Of course, Utsler wasn't affected, because he had a FOURTH cup. Frustrated, Steve shoved Utsler onto his back and began to take any spare cups out of his pants.

Yes... that probably sounded absurdly homosexual.

Janito rose to his feet, and Beef, recovering from his kick in the nuts, shoved him.

"JANIITTOOO!!!!" he screamed. Janito wasn't amused at all.

"Listen, you sodding twat, we've done this "joke" at least seven times, now. It's not even top-"

"GET THE OVERUSED, YET OBVIOUSLY DESTRUCTIVE WOODEN FURNITURE OF DEATH!" Beef said, pointing in two directions. Janito proceeded to slap him upside the head.

"AS I WAS BLOODY SAYING. There are no tables up here, you tosser! NONE. Nada! Zilch! Not a bloody monkey's ballocks worth!"

"Well. Damn." was Beef's response.

Meanwhile, Vendetta had just finished his gnawing on Ken War and looked around. He noticed that everyone was gone.

"Meow?"

With that, Vendetta kinda just wandered out of the cage and around ringside, allowing Mega Job a three-on-two advantage. Well, actually, when one thinks about it, it gives The [Bowell] Movement a 2-on-1½ advantage. There had to be some way to make the match more interesting.

Then, suddenly, five hundred pounds of fiber and some college girls fall on both Beef and Janito out of nowhere, for no reason whatsoever. The college girls dust themselves off as if nothing had happened and immediately began to dance with flashy lights, like they were in a rave party. The fans erupted in sheer confusion. Mainly because this was an outside arena.

Beef dug himself out of the fiber and looked around. He saw the girls, and did a double-take. His smile grew.

So did his penis.

He dug himself out of the fiber and immediately attempted to put the moves on one of them. Now, if you know anything about Mega Job in the nine months they've been in the Asylum, then you could probably just figure out exactly where this is leading to.

"OHHHH!!!!! MY PENIS!! MY MEAN BABY-MAKING MACHINE!"

Well, I told you so. But did you listen, Angus Gus? Oh, no, you didn't! You just sat here and gave us two hundred and seventy-three reasons why you haven't liked this match so far! You big sissy person type... guy... thing. ...Yeah! You think you're all big and bad just because you got into a... big... college-type thing? Oh no, you're little and bordering on the big suckaroo, and... well, you know what? Just pretend this paragraph didn't happen. Okay? Okay.

Paragraph? What paragraph do you speak of? I know not of a paragraph.

While some idiot was talking about a paragraph, Ross Perot somehow has found himself on the second tier, and he was on stilts. He engaged in a battle with Steve. He punched Steve in the head. Steve retaliated with a spinning midget kick to the right stilt, sending Perot down. Perot scrambled to his feet, but was quickly obliterated into dust with a Clothesline From Shanghai that, for once, hit someone's neck instead of their crotch.

And yes, he literally turned into dust.

Steve looked really satisfied with the dust busting, while, meanwhile, Zotan attempted to climb up to the third tier of the cage, only to become a victim of what can only be described as a flying beer can from the crowd, which sent him down(even though the can hit the OTHER side of the cage and didn't even touch Zotan). Beef grabbed Zotan and tossed him back into the bouncy castle. He put him in the center.

We all knew what was coming as soon as Beef tore off his kneepad.

He tossed it toward the crowd and ran off one side of the castle. He hopped four times, but unexpectedly, his hops were too high and he banged his head on the top of the cage, sending Beef crashing down on top of Zotan.

"Bugger." Janito said in response to this, before he climbed up toward the third cage. As if the flying beer cans and falling fiber were bad enough, a flying saucer appeared above the cage towers, and soon, two aliens were beamed into the second cage.

"You! Your existence is contrary to our intelligence reports of the pitiful human race!" the first alien, Xaheid, yelled. Janito scratched his head in response after he jumped off of the cage wall.

"Do you mean to tell me that I'm actually bloody smart!?" Janito asked.

The second alien, Xelian, looked down at a small little monitor in his green hands, before he suddenly realized an error, and proceeded to slap Xaheid across the head.

"You IDIOT. This isn't Natalie Portman!" Xelian yelled.

"Bloody... hell." Janito said, slowly, very disgruntled.

"What? They must look a lot alike." Xaheid said. This just caused Xelian to hit him again and point out the picture to him.

"You got this attractive human female confused with an ugly human male who thinks he's from Planet Tittiebar?!?!?!" Xelian yelled. Xaheid winced(if a silly little green humanoid could wince) in response.

"Bah. Let's just leave before the humans suspect anything."

And like that, they were gone. Janito just looked around, confused, along with Jacob Utsler, who had wandered up to Janito's side in utter confusion. He finally pointed toward where the two aliens and the flying saucer were, and spoke.

"What in the Flash Funk was that?"

"Let me respond to that sodding question with a kick in the shin." was Janito's response. Utsler held up his finger as if he was going to respond to that.

"Wait, that doesn't answer my que- OWWWW!!!" Utsler started, before he was rudely interrupted with a kick in the shin. Utsler hopped up and down on his non-shin-kicked leg, while holding his shin-kicked leg.

Janito leaned back and laughed as evilly as he could....."Tee hee hee" which probably sounded more evil written down than it did in reality, so at least pretend to cower in fear...

...k.

Jacob stopped hopping, lifted his leg up and began kissing his shin better. But El Janito kicked his other shin and began laughing once more "Titter". Poor Jacob lifted his other leg up and kissed it better......before realising he had both of his legs held up in the air.

Steve reached down the back of his shorts and pulled out his ring. He then moved over to Jacob Utsler and moved the ring on top of him and all around to show there were no hidden wires, before tossing the ring away into the crowd and onto a baseball bat.....causing the Carnie to curse that someone finally won his game.

Beef and Zotan were back up to their feet and charged at each other.....forgetting where they were and in the process stumbling on the bouncy castle before falling flat on their faces again.

Steve grinned at his newly won baseball bat and then looked at Utsler, who was still levitating off the ground, with his legs around his neck......God what an image!

A quick spit on the bat and a wrongful cry of "FORE", led to Steve charging forward and smashing Jacob Utsler right between the eyes.....which sounded painful enough, but I meant to say thighs not eyes, so it's worse.

The levitation stopped as Jacob Utsler lowered his legs and stood on his feet......he walked forward with a grin towards Steve.

"Don't you ever learn!?" said the Softcore Eye-Corn. "I feel no pain, have you forgotten these?" he finished as he fished inside his trunks to pull out a cup.

After a few seconds of frantic searching, Utsler realised he's run out of cups.......which means........."OOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWW... SON OF A RENNER, THAT HURTS LIKE HELL! IT'S WORSE THEN BACK TO BACK JENNY JONES EPISODES!!!".

"FINALLY." grinned Steve as Utsler collapsed to the bouncy castle holding the part of his anatomy that as usual began to swell at the touch of another man.

Steve proceeded to do the Snoopy Dance in celebration. Then, as if by magic, Zotan and Beef saw Steve doing the Snoopy Dance, and proceeded to do it, themselves. Then, Janito did the Snoopy Dance. Then, Peter Saltfleet, who sat in the fifth row, proceeded to do the Snoopy Dance. Then the whole fifth row did the Snoopy Dance. Then, the entire section did the Snoopy Dance. Pretty soon, the entire arena, except anyone with the last name of Utsler, were doing the Snoopy Dance.

Even you, the reader, will be doing the Snoopy Dance.

Finally, Beef ended the Snoopy Dance madness by pulling out a Nintendo from seemingly out of left field.

"TIME TO PLAY THE GAAAAMMMEEE~!!!!!"

Crack.

Beef smashed the Nintendo over Zotan's head, sending him down. Janito proceeded to wander over to Zotan while Beef tried to climb up to the third tier of the cage, and mock him. Incessantly.

"Haha! How do you like that, you sodding Carl?! You want some more? You want some bloody mo- MMPH!!!"

Hello, Janito, meet Mr. Sucko. Mr. Sucko, meet Janito.

Janito was getting what he sometimes refered to as "crotch juice" in his mouth, since... after all, Zotan wore the sock on his package. Janito screamed in both surprise and disgust as Zotan took Janito down. Zotan looked up and kinda realized that Beef was up on the third tier, the tier with the water slide, and realized that Beef wasn't going for the win.

He was taunting Zotan by shaking his ass at him.

"Oh ho ho! Look who's on the third tier and look who's not! Oh! I am the man." Beef said, mockingly.

Zotan wasn't pleased. He released Mr. Sucko from Janito's mouth, much to Janito's relief, and climbed up toward the next tier of the structure. Steve was still doing the Snoopy Dance and didn't notice Zotan. But there was just one question on everyone's mind as Zotan climbed.

Where in the BLOODY hell was Vendetta?

Zotan was close to Beef, but Janito refused to let him escape and runs into the bouncy castle wall, causing it to shake, Zotan dropped Mr. Sucko to the floor where Janito instantly picked it up and tossed it towards Steve.

"Operation Hotrod, Dipshit!" Janito yelled to his teammate as Zotan leapt off the wall and caused Janito to fly up and smash his head on the cage roof due to the strong ripples on impact.

Steve ran away and turned his back to Zotan, where he proceeded to pull out a small bottle of something from his pocket and poured it into Mr. Sucko.

Jacob Utsler by now had realized Beef was all alone and began climbing up the cage, but due to his exhausted state and the fact that Beef was flicking water at him from above, he soon gave up and sank to the floor of the bouncy castle again.

"There has GOT to be an easier way then this!" said Jacob as he sat in deep reflection......so deep in fact that......"ZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz" he fell asleep.....silly bastard.

Back with Steve, he seemed to be done as he turned back to Zotan and held out Mr Sucko. Zotan took Sucko back and stared at Steve in bewilderment.....which is tough for Zotan to do becuase he doesn't know what bewilderment means..... to tell you the truth, I don't know either, I probably typed a random set of letters and by the law of averages it formed a word.

While someone was ranting about the bewildering coincidence of letters, Steve once again grinned at Zotan. "SOCKO." said the insane Midget. "Yes, I know." said the insane non Midget. "TRY." said the vertically challenged one.

Zotan placed Mr. Sucko back under his kilt and then frooze in pain.......his mouth dropped open causing Steve to jump for joy as El Janito stood next to him clutching his head. "Well done, mini-not-me. You did it, we managed to use Sucko against Zotan."

The dastardly duo began laughing out loud, before Mutley pointed out this wasn't a Hanna Barbera cartoon, so he and Dick left leaving Steve and El Janito laughing in the bouncy castle tier.

"Looks like you got a little problem downstairs, Zotan" mocked El Janito. "Feeling the heat?" he yelled as he pulled the bottle of Tobasco Sauce out of Steve's pocket.

Jacob Utsler awakened from his slumber with an idea!! He quickly sprang to his feet and decided the best way to get to Beef without having to climb the cage was simple......he just stepped into the elevator.

"Why didn't I think of this before?" he thought out loud as the doors shut and took him upstairs.

Steve, in the meantime, had gotten too close to Zotan in his mocking. Close enough for a strike, as Zotan leapt to his feet, pulled up his kilt and rammed Mr Sucko down his throat..........using a move that Val Venis should have used instead of a top rope splash.....name would have worked better for Zotan's version as well!

El Janito just stood in horror at the sight of it and proceeded to run to the side of the bouncy castle and vomit over the edge onto Paul Dragon who sat in the front row.

Beef, meanwhile, was sitting in a small pool of water at the top of the waterslide, he occassionally looked down to see if anyone was trying to climb up.....but no one was......at least not that way.

<b>PING!</b>

The lift doors open as Jacob Utsler stepped out of them and stands face to face with Beef.

"BEEF, before we die....there is something you should know."

"Zuh?" was all Beef could respond with.

"I am your FATHER...........'S brother's nephew's cousin's former room mate." said Darth Utsler.

"What? What does that make us?" asked the confused Beef.

"Absolutly nothing, which is what you are about to become!" said Jacob Vader.

"ENOUGH!" shouted Mel Brooks. "Stop ripping off my movies, you Spaceballs!"

Most people wondered how Mel Brooks got to the top tier without anyone seeing him. Others wondered when the match would end. Few more wondered when their life would end. But no one wondered "Where in the bastard buggery bollocks in Vendetta?".

Well, no one except...

"hardkorr!!!111"

Ken War.

Ken War charged the cage in an attempt to climb it, and actually made it to the second tier without dying in some horribly brutal fashion. Zotan had just finished torturing Steve with Mr. Sucko, looked at Ken War, and then idly tossed an object at Ken War, which hit him right in the head and sent him falling off the second tier and into a vat of nitric acid that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. It disappeared as soon as it appeared.

Oh, wait. There's Vendetta. And he appeared to be taking a dump on a large board that was conveniently placed so that when something fell on the raised portion, Vendetta would go flying up onto the cage. Hmm, I just wonder what's going to happen there.

Meanwhile, Jacob Utsler and Beef were circling each other on the top of the cage, whacking each other with what appeared to be funnoodles. Finally, Utsler charged at Beef and attempted a large swing, but Beef ducked it and Utsler ended up on the diving board. Without thinking, Beef went for the final blow and hit it.

"Oh, CRAP." Beef yelled as he watched Jacob fall from the diving board and down on top of the board. The lever-like momentum sent Vendetta flying up to the second tier, almost right on top of Janito and Zotan.

Vendetta looked around in confusion before he noticed his situation.

"Fly? Me fly?"

Utsler moaned in pain on the floor, just as a popcorn vendor stepped on him.

This day wasn't going well for him, but at least he retained the Softcore title!

"Didn't like that belt, anyway." said El Janito with a tear in his eye. "Clashed with my ummm.......bone china."

"Mmmmmmmmmm... BONE CHYNA" said Beef, as he thought about doing the nasty with the Ninth Wonder of the World....yeah, I know she's called Joanie Laurer, now that she left that smaller fed, but can you think of how often I'd have a chance to do this joke?

While Beef was mentally undressing the True Man-Beast of Wrestling, Vendetta managed to scrape himself off the floor and grab Janito by the throat. Only to be struck from behind with a wooden chair. Vendetta no-sold it......which is shocking when you look at Vendetta's fighting past........but not so shocking when you realise Ken War was the one that used the chair.

Vendetta carried on by lifting Janito high into the air by his throat and held him there. Meanwhile, Ken War had dropped the chair and began punching the back of Vendetta, who appeared NOT to be no selling, nor was he even aware War was there.

Zotan, on the other hand, walked past Beef, who was STILL thinking about sweet loving with Mrs Ballsthesizeofgrapefruits 2002, and so posed no threat, unless he was going to try Zotan's Sucko routine from earlier.

Anyway, where was I, oh yeah, in my room. Damn, it's a trip. Oh wait, where was I in the match...

OK, so Zotan noticed what wass going on with Vendetta. He looked down at the chair and suddenly has a thought!

"GAAAAAAAA YAAAAAAAA BOOOOOYAYAAKAKAKKA" he shouted. Confusing the rest of the combatants and waking up all of the crowd......except for Row 6J who it appeared, had killed themselves just to get away from the match.

Zotan continued to shout until his throat was sore. He then picked up the saw and cut the chair into two halves.

"Don't just stand there, Ken!" choked El Janito, who was still locked in Vendetta's kung fo grip. "Get Zotan!".

Ken War turned and charged towards Zotan. The keeper of the mystical cheese simply dropped both halves of the chair on to the floor in front of himself. As we all know in mathematics, two halves make a whole. And that's exactly what Ken War fell into and plummeted to the ground below.

He fell into an aquarium filled with piranhas, which suddenly appeared out of nowhere, who ripped Ken War apart upon impact.

Beef and Zotan both looked down at Ken War's third death in this match, and Beef shook his head. "Man, why couldn't something like that happen to us? Only instead of landing on something that rips us apart, we land in the bed of an incredibly hot teenage girl?"

Zotan thought about it, before he saw the diving board and jerked a thumb toward it.

"Wanna find out?"

Beef and Zotan approached the diving board, and Beef is about to jump, but Zotan quickly jerked him backwards, preventing Beef from jumping. "Hold on a second! I think I should go first!"

"On <b>WHAT</b> grounds!? I'm the superhero!"

"So am I! ...or was. Plus, my dad's bigger than your dad."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Your mom!"

"No, *YOUR* mom!"

"Oh, that's it!"

And quickly did both Beef and Zotan resumed their girlyfight. Meanwhile, Jacob Utsler seemed to have recovered on the floor and was now climbing up the water slide in an attempt to get himself back into the match.

Steve had somehow recovered and was now climbing up to the third tier. When he made it up, he saw Zotan and Beef girlyfighting, and decided to seek vengeance on Zotan. He charged in on Zotan with a Clothesline From Shanghai.

He missed completely and went down the slide.

"BANZAI." was what Steve yelled, just before his midget body slammed into Utsler's... larger body, and both men fell down to the floor.

Fishie was now on the Asylum Side of the Force.

"You big lug!" shouted Janito. "Our belts are finished with. We don't need to be in this match anymore, we should just leave."

"POOP STINKS?" said Vendetta.

"Do you even know English?" asked El Janito.

"ENGLISH?" replied Vendetta. "Who needs that? I'm never going to England!"

With that, El Janito broke free from Vendetta's grip and dove between his legs. Quick as a flash, he turned around and booted Vendetta up the ass, causing him to fall forward off the end of the diving board.

Down below, Steve and Jacob Utsler were playing a nice game of Chess. Might as well, they're out of the match.

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

Jacob looked up towards the whistling sound.......YEAH, OK, you think you can do a better whistling sound in text? You try it. Anyway, he looked up to see Vendetta directly above them and falling faster by the second.

Steve dove to one side and Jacob dove to the other as Vendetta came crashing down onto their chess board.

"CURSES." shouted Steve.

"I was winning, Wendy, you ruined it!" screamed Jacob.

"Sorry." mumbled Vendetta. "What you playing?"

"You twonk, what does it look like! We're playing flipping Snakes and Ladders"

"PARCHEESI!?!" replied Steve.

And the fight was on again. Steve and Jacob Utsler beating the tar out of each other, over who was right about the name of the game. Vendetta also started a fight.....with one of the cage support beams!!

Back up top, El Janito was trying to motivate himself to use the diving board, but then decided to take the safter option and dove onto the water slide.......just as Zotan came, appeared behind him, and switched the slide's water supply off.

A long, agonizing, screeching noise was heard as El Janito was forced to endure sliding all the way down on an unlubricated slide.......which was NOT nice.

"You bloody TWATS!!!!" Janito screamed. Zotan seemed happy, but then, suddenly, Beef grabbed Zotan and ended up, somehow, tangling both himself and Zotan in six bras, two panties, and someone who appeared to be Katie Holmes.

"What am I doing here?"

Before Beef and Zotan could understand that Katie Holmes was caught between the two idiots(one of them being sexually deprived), she quickly left. And as quickly as she left did Ken War appear.

With a cork gun.

He held the gun at Beef and Zotan, who couldn't get away from him due to the undergarment entangling. "fom tis dey furth doglaes, u'll onle evr detory 1 mur lyf.

ur oen"

Beef looked up at Ken War confused. "Who in the hell is Doglaes?"

"And why is your hair THAT color?!" Zotan added, pointing at Ken War's suddenly brown and blonde hair. Ken War just ignored them completely.

"coendfusesad?

ites sneplae stve, jes clus ur i's... ey detory mi...

ey detoy u hardkorr!!1111"

Ken War put the cork gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger. This wouldn't normally kill anyone, but this is Ken War we're talking about, so of course he chokes on the cork and dies. Beef and Zotan quickly freed themselves from the undergarments and looked around. They had to be the only ones left.

"So." Beef said. "It's just you, me, the corpse of Ken War that'll probably reanimate in a few minutes, and someone who appears to be Adam Sandler."

Zotan turned.

"The price is wrong, bitch."

Sandler struck Zotan right in the head with a hockey stick. Zotan proceeded to fall backwards and onto the unlubricated slide. Beef realized what just happened and decided that he had better jump from the diving board.

He did.

Now it was a race of who could make it to the floor first. Then, all time stopped. Beef looked around in surprise, as everything froze all around him and he was in mid-air, a la the Hudsucker Proxy. As Beef looked around, he heard a woman singing "She'll Be Coming Around The Mountain When She Comes" above him, and looked up.

He saw Heather Graham, dressed as an angel and holding an ukulele.

"Dude! You're so hot! We should shack up and get laid."

Heather hit him in the head with her ukulele.

"Ow!"

"You idiot, that's not what I'm here for!" Heather shouted. "I'm here to give you insight on what you're doing now, and what you should do about it!"

Beef scratched his goatee in thought about it. He was greatly concerned about the whole "floating in midair" thing, but he shrugged.

"Oookay. But we still should get laid."

Heather hit him in the head with her ukulele, again.

"Ow!"

Heather chose to ignore Beef's attempts at getting laid. "So, any specific reason why you didn't deliver the Plaid Letter to Joe Campbell like Mayor McCheese asked?"

Beef scratched his head while wondering exactly what the hell was going on.

"Plaid Letter? Are you making this stuff up as you go along?"

"Oh, it's in the left-most pouch of your utility belt, where you left it." Heather said, smugly. Beef was confused until he looked, and then he saw the letter.

"WTFMF?!!??!!?!?!?!?!? That wasn't there before!"

Heather coughed in response. "I know not of what you speak of. I am merely a messenger. And an actress. And someone who occasionally appears in Lenny Kravitz music videos. ......Could you just read it for me?"

Beef groaned and unwrapped the letter. He read the letter outloud.

"Dear Joe Campbell,

You smell.

Love,

Mayor Chester McCheese of Beefville."

Beef rolled his eyes.

"THAT'S the important message we were supposed to send!?" Beef asked.

"Yes. Now, I'm just going to let you plummet to your eventual loss. By the way..."

Heather quickly snatched the letter from Beef.

"Yoink!"

Beef fell to the floor harmlessly, but Zotan reached the floor first.

The bell rang.

THANK GOD.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Joe Campbell burst through the curtain with a disgruntled expression on his face, something was on his chest... and he was about to get it off.

"You seriously think that at the biggest Pay Per View... of ALL TIME." Joe paused for a moment, the crowd were popping, even though he didn't want them to.

"You seriously think, that I am going to let some little spick... fucking... mask wearing... fucking, taco eating... fucking... fucking...

CHEF.

Come out here and make a mockery of the Asylum? You think Avo Chavez is actually going to make an appearence FOR US? No fucking chance... that little tortilla thought he was getting on a plane to Manchester, but I actually got the border jumping little twat tickets straight back to Mexico where he belongs." Joe sneered scratching his chin.

"So what I'm basically saying is... there won't be a stupid match between him and the DaVatta's tonight... he's back across the border, and they're enjoying a night on the town... courtesy of me." Joe finished... dropping the microphone and making his way to the back... uttering a few words to himself as he did.

"Fucking Avo Chavez, wants to make me look stupid... I'll make him look stupid...

If its the last thing I do."

Eddie Scott Poser, dressed still with his burger king crown, had a microphone in the hallway, in front of Eddie Cheno's locker room. When the door opened, Poser was quick to thrust the mic into his face. "EDDIE!" Poser laughed. "We have the same first name..." He collected himself as Cheno stared a hole through him. "Eddie, what do you plan to do in tonight's grudge match against that total bitch Nicole Carson!"

Cameraman Mark cut him off. "You know Poser, reporters are supposed to be unbiased."

"And you're supposed to have a camera. You don't hear ME complaining." Poser stuck his tongue out at him.

"You bitch about that all the time!" Before they can react, Eddie reached over. He grabed the microphone and dropped it all in one motion, before heading out to the Asylum cage. Poser was quickly to pick up the microphone once more.

"Cheno's all business today. My Predictoin? It'll be one hell of a slobberknocker with numerous lariots, puppies, and collectible baseball card sets being sold for 80 % of what they're worth while being called the best deal ever. This fight? It'll be the best fight ever. I'VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIK THIS IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!"

There was a long pause before Mark cut him off. "You should really get out more."

"The outside world scares me."

For Denavee Sabin, this was his moment. This was his moment to absorb the aura of immortality. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for his tag team partner, Cleff Quince. Cleff expected more than just the "moment." He expected to be in the middle of the ring in front of thousands of crazy ass fans and millions of television viewers all around the globe. Just like these spectators, Cleff would just have to watch. There was no match for him and Denavee. But if it was any consolation, at least they did have the best seat in the house--backstage.

Backstage at the refreshments area, the team of Hybrid Fusion stood. One stood of reverence while the other of pure resentment.

"Dammit man! We should have been up in this place rockin' the house!" Cleff Quince exclaimed his disappointment to Denavee.

Before Denavee could respond, a voice shimmered down from the hall, "Oh look, it's Mary and her little lamb."

That voice. It was none other than egg NOG and his partner, cHEESE.

"You fools again?! Your asses better get outta here. I ain't in a very good mood right now. So beat it before I'll bust ya'll up the collar!" Cleff threatened as he violently shaked his fists in preparation of a potential scrum.

egg NOG raised his hands in the air and reassured, "Simmer the nerves Hoss. You aren't worth the trouble. We aren't hear looking for a fight... with you anyway. We have bigger fish to fry."

"Heh, don't you mean 'shorter' fish?" cHEESE quipped.

"Oh yeah," egg NOG chuckled, "Come then, we shall be going. Unlike Duran-Duran, here, we have a match. Well, more like an... exhibition."

Waving to Hyrbid Fusion, cHEESE made his way along with egg NOG down towards the entrance of the arena's aisle way, "Ciao lads, the D have some work to do. You two boys have fun with those refreshments. While you're just standing there with nothing better to do, have a coffee and a rum and coke ready to go when we get back from our little 'excursion'."

They disappeared into the distance, Cleff made a futile attempt to get in one last remark, "Who da hell do you think we are? We ain't bus boys! You fools better watch your back! Nobody talks to Hybrid Fusion like that!"

Poof. Just like that, the Legion of Dairy were gone. They were off to compete with the duo of Ace Carter and "Mad" Max Marx. Meanwhile, Hybrid Fusion were here--here in the refreshments area with no match.

Pissed and dejected, Cleff exploded with anger, "Dammit! You know Denavee, I bet you we could beat their asses! Dammit, I'm sick of this! I'm sick of us being treated like rookies. I'm sick of the lack respect. I'm sick of it all! Dammit it's time to act like Rosa Parks and get up on this bus!"

Calm and perspective as usual, Denavee reassured, "Hey Cleff, we'll be ok. We will get our chance. Let them talk. We will get the last laugh."

The moment. The moment known as Immortals. Immortals... the place of new history being written and old history being rewritten. The place of tears of victory and defeat. The place of Asylumhood. The place of of the 21st Century. The place where legends are made of. The place of Immortality.

The Asylum faithful cheered for their would-be heroes. Some of 21w's fans even joined in because through one miracle or another, the Legion of Dairy brought back their heroes. How they'll never really know, but they were wrestling tonight.

For them. For 21w.

The shot cut to the stage. First came cHEESE, followed by egg NOG and then "The Manager of Champions", YoGuRt, followed closely behind the two. They waved to the fans as they slowly made their way to the Asylum. egg NOG was the first one up the steps as he pushed the gate open and walked in. cHEESE stayed at the bottom of the steps as he looked out over the sold-out crowd, many of whom were chanting "L-O-D!" He took his time as he ascended up the stairs and into the fabled Asylum. They turned back toward the stage and waited.

Korn. "Predictable".

The crowd roared. Everyone was on their feet cheering. The first hero was coming home.

The shot was once again centered on the stage as the curtains parted and he walked out.

But it wasn't "Mad" Max Marx that walked out through that curtain. No, it was a midget that had been dressed up to look like Marx.

A freakin' midget.

The boos poured out in mass abundance. Those that weren't booing --assumably Asylum fans-- were laughing. The fans were cheated, they were robbed and they weren't taking it lying down. They began to litter the Asylum with garbage as cHEESE and egg NOG had doubled over from the laughter. "Mini" Max Marx stopped just short of the Asylum's steps as "Predictable" faded from play.

The mellowed opening to "Magdalena"' by A Perfect Circle hit as all attention shifted to the stage one last time. Maybe they really convinced Ace Carter to come back. Maybe this one would be different. Maybe... maybe this was the plan all along. As a figure clamored out of the shadows. Faint cheers quickly changed to louder jeers as a "midgetized" Ace Carter slowly walked out on the stage with his arms raised high above his head. At the foot of the steps to the Asylum, "Mini" Max applauded his partner as "Carter" strolled to the ring, exchanging not-so-high-fives with some of the fans ringside. As "Midget" Ace reached the steps, "Mini" Max cocked his head from side to side as 'Ace' lead the two up the steps and into the Asylum as cHEESE and egg NOG had finally collected themselves enough to notice their "opponents" have entered the cage. As the gate closed behind them, a bell sounded and the fight started.

"Mini" Max charged at egg NOG first, his arms flailing wildly as he let out a mighty roar.

"RRRAAAAHHH...*"

egg NOG kicked him in the face. "Mini" Max fell flat on his back, clutching his face, screaming in pain. "Ace" looked on in shock, but quickly shook it off as he now charged at the duo from Dairytown. egg NOG scooped him up in a bearhug as cHEESE ran in and connected on an inverted bulldog and NOG drove "Ace's" spine into the floor. cHEESE and egg NOG bounced back to their feet as they raised their arms up in celebration. Some fans cheered, others were not so supportive. "Mini" Max was back on his feet as he charged the unsuspecting Legion of Dairy. He threw his shoulder into egg NOG's knee as he was caught off guard and thus fell hard on his side. "Mini" Max threw several wild punches at cHEESE, who fended him off by placing his hand firmly on the smaller man's head. As "Mini" Max continued to punch away at air, cHEESE looked out to the crowd, pointed at "Max" and laughed.

Finally fed up with "Mini" Max, cHEESE shoved him on his back once again as the members that made up the LoD looked at each other and nodded. YoGuRt threw two chairs in the cage as both cHEESE and NOG picked one up and waited for "Ace" to stand.

He did.

Then came the Conchairto.

*SMACK*

"Mini" Max was already standing as cHEESE picked him up. NOG stepped in. Everyone knew what was coming as "Mini" Max Marx kicked his legs in hopes of breaking free.

One can only hope.

Sellout.

NOG relaxed on the Asylum rim as cHEESE crouched over the fallen "heroes". The referee climbed in the cage and started his count. Ten seconds later, it was over. cHEESE and egg NOG had won. Only one thing was wrong with the moment. "Sellout" wasn't playing.

A piano was? No, it was Linkin Park.

"In the End" was playing. Something wasn't right.

Cleff Quience and Denavee Sabin. Standing on the stage, their arms crossed and smirks on their faces. cHEESE and egg NOG stood in the center of the Asylum, blank expressions on their faces as they looked at the two men standing on the stage before them.

I don't think this was part of the plan.

Cleff and Denavee unfolded their arms and started for the Asylum, cHEESE and egg NOG still didn't move. As Cleff lead Denavee up the stairs, the Legion of Dairy were still standing in amazement in the cage. Cleff swung the gate open and stepped in the cage. Denavee took a more dramatic approach as he leap frogged over the cage and came to a halt next to his partner. cHEESE could only blink as his partner's mouth hung open, the fans cheered for the unexpected members of Hybrid Fusion as they slowly walked up to cHEESE and egg NOG. Denavee and cHEESE stood eye to eye, egg NOG --however-- gave up at least two inches to the taller Cleff.

Then it happened.

Like the shot from a gun, both teams started to lay into each other with left and rights as the crowd's cheers hit a fever pitch. The upstart Hybrid Fusion gained the upper hand as Denavee threw cHEESE into the unforgiving mesh fencing and C-Quince connected on a Manhattan Drop on egg NOG. Cleff followed up with a stiff short-arm clothesline that put egg NOG flat on his back. Cleff quickly grabbed a handful of NOG's hair and laid into him with solid rights. Denavee was busy with cHEESE, kicking him into the Asylum's fencing as the fans cheered them on. Then Denavee stopped to gloat.

His mistake.

cHEESE was already on his feet as he wrapped his arms around the waist of Sabin and landed a fierce German suplex onto the Asylum's unforgiving floor. He then went from a German suplex into a STF and pulled back on Sabin's head, torquing the spine and causing Denavee to scream out in pain. Quince heard this and rushed in to save his partner, dropkicking cHEESE in the back of the head and causing him to release the hold. Meanwhile, egg NOG struggled to get on his feet, a small cut under his cheek started to bleed as he tapped the cut with his index and middle finger and looked down at the blood on his fingers.

*CRACK*

Cleff. Chair. Face.

NOG was on his back once again as Cleff drew back the chair and unleashed another shot, this time to egg NOG's ribs. egg NOG cringed in pain as he tried to roll away. It was all for not as Cleff drove the chair down on egg NOG, this time connecting with the small of his back. egg NOG cried out as Cleff held the chair up and the fans cheered.

Listeria™.

Cleff was so preoccupied with egg NOG that he never saw cHEESE sneak up behind him and connect with his falling reverse DDT. cHEESE bounced back to this feet as he walked over to egg NOG and helped him up. NOG staggered over to the rim and supported himself against it. cHEESE helped him over to the rim as Denavee stood. Denavee saw the two standing next to the rim and smiled. He pointed to the Legion members and ran at them. He jumped and grabbed onto their heads.

Huskie Drop.

As Denavee sailed over the top of the Asylum rim, cHEESE and egg NOG weren't so lucky. Their throats were driven into the Asylum rim and both fell back, clutching their throats, hacking and coughing. Denavee landed on the floor below as Cleff went to work on what his partner had started. He picked cHEESE up first and nailed a stalled suplex. egg NOG was on the receiving end of several European uppercuts followed by a sloppy hip toss. Cleff went back to work on NOG as he locked him in a sleeper hold and held fast as egg NOG struggled for his freedom. NOG slowly faded out as Denavee climbed back in the cage, leap frogging the rim and landing on the back of cHEESE's head with a leg drop. Denavee rolled cHEESE over and made a cover.

No referee.

He slapped the mat as the fans counted to no avail. There was still no referee in the Asylum. Quince tapped his partner on the shoulder and pointed to the Asylum's fencing and whispered something to his partner. Sabin nodded and pulled cHEESE to his feet, the two of them then threw cHEESE into the fence once again as Cleff took one of the two chairs in the Asylum and set it up next to the fence. He picked cHEESE up and set him on the Asylum's rim and stood on the chair. The members of Hybrid Fusion looked to be going for their "Hybrid Theory" finishing maneuver. Cleff pulled cHEESE up and sent him down with a brainbuster as Sabin came sailing off the cage with the frog splash. A referee came running into the Asylum as Sabin hooked cHEESE's leg for the cover. The fans counted in unison.

1...

2...

*CRACK*

...

*CRACK*

egg NOG was up and egg NOG had the second chair, a large dent in it from both Denavee and Cleff's skulls. NOG threw the chair down as he stood of the lifeless body of Cleff and raised his arms in a sign of triumph. His mistake. Cleff grabbed at NOG's ankles and pulled him down to the Asylum floor, causing him to land square on his face. Blood began to pour from NOG's nose as he looked back at his unexpected attacker. When he did, Cleff kicked him square in the face. NOG curled up, screaming as he felt his nose, possibly broken now. Blood was starting to get everywhere as Quince was back on his feet and drew back his foot, reading himself for a shot at egg NOG's ribs. He kicked but nothing happened. Someone was holding his foot.

cHEESE.

cHEESE was smiling as he took his leg and tripped Cleff. He grabbed his other leg and locked in his LEGO™ submission. Denavee tried to save his partner, but egg NOG was already back up and caught Sabin in a sit-down sidewalk slam. NOG shoved Sabin's body away from himself as he stood and began kicking Cleff in his ribs, much like Cleff had planned to do to egg NOG only seconds before. But Sabin refused to go down so easy, he was already on his feet and charging egg NOG. He spun NOG around and hit a northern lights suplex that sent egg NOG sliding into the fence of the Asylum. Denavee turned to cHEESE and kicked him hard across the face, causing cHEESE to release Quince. Denavee checked on his partner as cHEESE and NOG showed small signs of life. Sabin caught sight of cHEESE out of the corner of his eye and went to work. He mounted cHEESE and laid into him with a flurry of lefts and rights. cHEESE tried to block as many shots as he could, but Denavee was too quick for the tired cHEESE. Sabin floated in a cross arm bar and the cheers escalated.

cHEESE was getting schooled. By a rookie.

By this point was already to his feet and laying waste to egg NOG. Using the Asylum rim for support, Quince unleashed a series of kicks aimed at various parts of NOG's body. Cleff finished up by sticking his foot into NOG's throat and leaning back, pushing egg NOG into the fence. Blood was flowing freely from egg NOG's face as his partner wasn't fairing much better. Denavee had cHEESE rolled up onto his neck and was driving his knee into cHEESE's shoulder, adding extra pressure onto the armbar. cHEESE was almost tearing up as Sabin was almost smiling sadistically. Someone was going to save cHEESE, and it wasn't egg NOG, he was out of it.

Enter YoGuRt. Hero of the day.

He leaped into the Asylum and viciously drove his knee into the side of Sabin's head. Denavee fell over in a pile as YoGuRt helped cHEESE to his feet. cHEESE rotated his shoulder as Cleff realized what YoGuRt had done. He let out a roar as he charged at cHEESE.

YoGuRt. Chair. You get the idea.

Cleff was out as YoGuRt threw down the chair and exited the Asylum and walked backstage. Seconds later YoGuRt emerged with a table in each hand. He threw the first into the Asylum and propped the second one against the Asylum outside. He walked in and set the table up. cHEESE pulled Cleff up and laid him on the table.

NOG Down.

egg NOG came out of nowhere in a flash and drove Quince through the table with the NOG down. NOG bounced off Cleff and came to a halt beside him. cHEESE and YoGuRt were jumping for joy as cHEESE surprising shoved YoGuRt in the chest. YoGuRt was caught off guard like most of the people in attendance.

"YOGURT!" cHEESE started, "GET THE FREAKING TABLE!!"

YoGuRt smiled as he departed from the Asylum and pulled the second table into the cage. NOG was hunched over on all fours as YoGuRt and cHEESE set the second table up in the middle of the ring. NOG was staggering on his feet cHEESE pulled Sabin to his feet. He assumed the position. Seconds later, egg NOG followed suit.

Someone was "selling out".

Sabin went up. Sabin came down, crashing through the table. NOG and cHEESE had to brace themselves on the rim as a referee made the count. It would be elementary.

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

9...

... 10?

No. Sabin refused to lay down and die. He was somehow on his feet just before the count of ten. NOG and cHEESE were wide eyed and in shock. Sabin could barely stand, but he was still on his feet. This was far from over.

*CRACK*

cHEESE didn't see that Cleff was on the floor anymore. He also didn't see him come at him with the chair. He did get an upclose view of the floor outside the Asylum, however. Cleff took a second shot at YoGuRt and connect with authority. Cleff took a wild swing at NOG, but he managed to avoid the flagrant shot and connected with the Van Dairynator. Everyone was out. Except Sabin. Sabin lumbered over to NOG and fell on top of him. The referee knew what to do. The fans counted along.

1...

2...

NOG threw the shoulder up.

The crowd roared with cheers as Sabin just laid there, his arm draped over egg NOG's limp body. Everyone looked dead. They probably were. The fans were still eating it up. cHEESE was slowly rolling around on the outside, going from his stomach to his back. In the cage, Quince was pulling himself up, aided by the Asylum. He mustered enough strength to pull egg NOG up next to himself. He was tapping reserves when he lifted NOG up for Money Talks.

And he hit it.

Cleff rolled over onto egg NOG for the cover. Sabin then crawled on top of Quince as the referee slid in position.

1...

2...

3.

It was over. "In The End" began playing as Hybrid Fusion were announced the winners. Sabin helped Cleff to his feet as the two proudly celebrated their first match and their first victory in the middle of the Asylum. cHEESE and NOG were both flat on their back, NOG's face a crimson mask, he nose probably broken. cHEESE had a small gash on his forehead that was starting to bleed as well. The fabled veterans known as the Legion of Dairy had been schooled.

By rookies no less.

The irony.

“Creeping Death” suddenly cued up throughout the Arena as Jason Nuclear stormed down the ramp in a fury. He entered the ring, taking a microphone from his back pocket and started to speak while his theme song came to a close.

“I SWEAR TO GOD CAMPBELL!” He yelled, taking a stroll around the ring while he rolled his free hand into a tight fist and threw it, ala punching someone in the face. “I swear to God Campbell!” Again Nuclear took another break, as the 21w fans cheered and the tA fans booed. “I PINNED GGM... I pinned the 21w World Champion... and then... AND THEN... I realize I’m not booked to fight anyone at Immortals!?”

Nuclear shook his head. “Well... I’m here, and I ant moving until I battle someone.”

Once more the 21w fans cheered while the Asylum fans booed... and Jason just marched around the ring, dropping the microphone as he eyed the rampway.

Nothing happened.

But Nuclear didn’t move. He wanted what he wanted.

The scene changed backstage, as Miles Blunder nervously paced the Arena halls... talking softly to himself.

“Hhmm... maybe *I* could go and fight Jason Nuclear!” He said, with some spunk in his voice... but then as he walked forward, turned, and saw a jack load of people through the crack in the curtains, Miles quickly spun back around and optioned to leave. “No way... I can’t fucking fight him.”

Smack.

Blunder had walked right into a member of the ring crew, as the man looked down at him, being at least a head taller.

He shook his head. “Um... sir Campbell told me to get someone from the Asylum to fight this guy so he’d leave the ring.” The crew member locked his stare dead on Blunder’s one blue and one green eye. “I guess that’s you, seeing as I’m looking at you.”

“Bu- bu- bu- but I- I- I- I-” Whatever ‘The Germ Gestapo’ wanted to say... wasn’t going to come out. He nodded, and nervously turned back to the curtains.

However he didn’t go through them.

“Get out there!” The crew member said, as he pushed Miles on the back, sending him out onto the ramp as the camera changed views.

Most of the people, 21w fans or tA fans -it didn’t matter-, laughed at Miles Blunder, the basic joke of the fighting Federation. He had been on the roster for about two months now... and not won a bloody thing yet.

However... the week before, when he jumped out of the Asylum cage himself... not even hitting LLB nor getting hit by *him*... Miles Blunder looked like the biggest moron ever in their eyes. For he had a giant chance... to enter in the Iliad Match... to become huge... to become noticed... but he blew it.

Blunder wanted to turn around. He didn’t want to fight. This was Immortals and he was SSSOOO going to fuck it up.

Fuck it up bad. Real bad.

There was no way someone like *him* could beat someone that *pinned* ‘Golden’ Glen Miller.

No way.

Just no way.

‘The Germ Gestapo’ turned around, but still seeing the crew man standing behind the curtain, Blunder realized he had no other choice.

He had to fight.

Nuclear picked up the microphone. “Well?” He tapped his foot impatiently as he walked to the ropes and even held them open for ‘The Germ Gestapo’.

Miles slowly paced to the edge of the ramp and gulped.

He reluctantly entered.

The bell sounded, as Nuclear came forth with a giant right hand that clocked Miles to the canvas. Blunder then rolled up in a ball, just asking to be beat. Jason shrugged... and giving it an attempt, he covered ‘The Germ Gestapo’.

One.

Two.

But for some reason, Miles kicked out of it. For he didn’t even know why... and he was mad.

“IDIOT!” Blunder screamed out to himself as he got up and hit his own head, yes, actually knocking his own body into the corner.

The fans laughed.

Yet Nuclear could only frown. This was his opponent?

He took Blunder’s arm and hurled him across the way into the following corner. Miles whacked it hard, coming off the padding with great force as he turned around and was hammered with the clothesline from hell. Blunder went down hard, very hard, as some of the fans turned away, if not just for one second, while his head pounded off the canvas a number of times.

Nuclear walked to Blunder’s legs and catapulted him into the corner again... but this time Blunder stayed there, his face applied to the top Immortal pad.

Jason rushed in, clubbing Miles with another clothesline to the back of the neck. This one sent a scream from his mouth, as Miles turned around, and actually ducked a firing right hand from Jason Nuclear.

Blunder tackled his opponent to the ground, hitting off the ropes and landing a perfect, five-star spinning heel kick into Jason’s jaw.

Yes, every now and again... Miles Blunder *could* pull off a good move or two.

And trying to keep this momentum going, ‘The Germ Gestapo’ waited for Nuclear to get up, and smacked him with the ‘J-Cloth DDT’.

The crowd was impressed.

21w and tA alike.

But most of all... Miles Blunder was impressed. He had nailed his signature move against Jason Nuclear, an up and coming superstar in 21w... and a man that had already pinned GGM.

Miles stopped dead in his tracks before picking Jason back up.

He was bound to mess up now.

After all that good stuff... of course, the bad was going to come.

‘The Germ Gestapo’ couldn’t have that. Not after he came this far. He fought so hard... too hard.

He couldn’t mess it up now.

But for some reason... he knew he was going to.

Blunder lifted Nuclear on his feet, as Jason smacked Miles across the face with a right hand. “I knew it!” Blunder thought to himself... though, if he just didn’t think, and kept on going after Nuclear, Jason wouldn’t have woken up... and Miles Blunder wouldn’t have wasted so much time.

Oh well. There’s always next year.

Whipping Blunder into the ropes, Nuclear lowered his head for a powerslam.

Blunder saw this, and again thought for himself to hurt Jason.

But what if Nuclear sidestepped a Miles Blunder kick?

The fans would laugh... so, it was just best to take what was coming.

A powerslam.

The 21w fans, and even the tA fans... cheered.

“Dammit! I should’ve sidestepped.”

But for Miles Blunder... it was already too late. Jason Nuclear had picked him up, and landed his signature move titled ‘Fallout’. A truckstop powerbomb.

Nuclear lifted his head a final time, signaling the end of the contest as he waited for Blunder to get to his feet. It took a bit... but Miles did.

‘Nuclear Winter’.

Thus, after a fireman’s carry DDT... it was totally done.

Jason Nuclear just sat on top of ‘The Germ Gestapo’, and waited for his victory count to begin.

One.

Two.

Three.

Following that played “Creeping Death” by Metallica as Jason’s hand was raised, and he walked out the winner... leaving Miles, who represented the Asylum... the loser.

God only knew how he’d be able to swallow this pill.

And God... didn’t even want to be there when he did.

The Asylum cage has been readied. Weapons have been collected and placed around the Asylum cage. The fans who've brought their own weapons for the match stand, howling at the barricades. It's no secret that the winner of these matches will be proclaimed the most violent creature in the Asylum or 21 wrestling.

The Devil

VS

The Angel

And here we go...

The lights go out as blue spotlights flicker along the entrance ramp like lightning bolts. Angel walks out to the entrance ramp as the Angel mode remix begins to play. He lifts up his hands to the chorus of boos and makes the sign of the double horns as the lights flicker on his barbedwire wrapped gloves. He picks up a 10 foot long light tube cross and resting it across his back he carries it down to the cage like Christ to his death.

The screams of Drowning Pool are cut short by the sounds of Cradle of Filth’s “Cthulu Dawn”. The boo’s turn into screams as the Devil Machine walks past the curtain and raises his own weapon above his head; a fire axe.

The blue spotlights converge at his feet, illuminating his path as he walks down to the cage. Ever focused -- his eyes never wavering from his opponent. The Magick Man slowly walks behind his liege looking at all the sick devices the warped fans had brought to the ring. Haunt turns to look at his manager, and points to the rampway, telling him to leave. This battle will be One on One. Magick hesitates, then looks the fans, then back at Haunt and nods. He leaves. With that, Haunt took his first step into the Asylum.

Seconds feel like an eternity as the two monsters stair at each other, the crowd anticipating a huge blood bath remain quiet until one fan in the front row picks up a thumbtack covered racquetball and hurls it into the cage. The ball comes inches away from ArchAngel until he plucks it out of the air. Seeing his opportunity Haunt lifts up his axe and charged at Angel. Thanks to the distraction, Angel only manages to get his mace from under his coat and barely block Haunt’s first shot. They push on each other's weapon until they both draw back and swing again.

After a few exchanges, the two, with one last massive power attempt, block each others shots with such force that they knock each others' weapons out of the ring at the same time. No sooner than the weapons left their hands, they turn around and pick up the nearest weapon available. Haunt and Archangel each take a light tube and swing at their opponent. The glass shatters across the others trench coat. Haunt and Angel both started to grin as they circled each other. Then, each took of their coats and threw them to the outside.

More weapons were tossed in, but Angel picked up what he brought in, the Cross, whereas Haunt obtained up a light tube covered in thumbtacks. He looked at it with a smirk. To the shock of every one watching, the two men exchanged weapons and gave their opponent a free shot. Archangel raised his arms, and Haunt swung in an overhead arc. The barbedwire holding the cross together became entangled in ArchAngel’s hair. Angel dipped down to recoil in pain, but just as quickly, sent the tube whirring into Haunt's willing body. An 'O' appeared in thumbtacks across Haunt’s back; a parting gift from the word written on the light tube. The two gained some distance between them in order to recover from each other's onslaught.

Then, gathering themselves, the two men circled again. This time, choosing hand-to-hand combat. They went in for a tie up. Haunt took the early advantage with a knee to the groin of the Angel of Death. The Devil machine starts hitting rapid fire kicks to both of Angel’s legs, bringing the big man to the ground. Haunt eventually levels the big man with a spinning roundhouse.

As Angel lays on the ground, Haunt calls for a weapon, and is given a log cabin of light tubes. He puts it into the center of the ring. He then piled more light tubes on top of the log cabin. Laying the contraption right next to a prone Angel. With a sneer, Haunt waits in the corner until Angel starts to get to his feet. Haunt, taking advantage of his handiwork, hits a shinning wizard on Angel sending his face flying through the pile of glass. The audience roars with amazing carnage.

But...

The impact seems to have awakened Angel, who instantly jumps to his face and charges towards Haunt and hitting a Yakuza kick, that sends Haunt flying to the canvas. He picks up Haunt before he has a chance to recover and lands a tilt-a-whirl face buster onto the Asylum Cage. Angel motions to the crowd for a weapon and for his trouble he gets tossed...

a rubber chicken?? Damn fans.

Infuriated, Angel tosses the chicken back to the crowd, who immediately toss it around themselves. He searches through the 'toys' and picks up a light tube and barbed wire pentacle. He lifts it up to show the crowd, who cheer him on. However, Haunt lurks behind him holding a barbedwire covered tennis racket and uses it to propel the thumbtack racquetball into Angel’s stomach. Angel doubles over, with the ball still sticking in his skin. Seizing his opportunity, Haunt rushes over to Angel and hits a fisherman’s DDT onto the pentacle. Haunt reaches over to the outside and lifts up the table holding the majority of the weapons and brings it into the cage resting it across the rim. However, Haunt did not expect Angel to be up so quickly. He turns around into a face claw from ArchAngel.

Angel lifts up the Devil Machine for a claw slam only landing the swell of Haunt’s back across his knee. Haunt drops to the ground, rolling on his stomach. Angel grabs Haunt and puts him in a Indian Deathlock before kneeling down, stretching back, grabbing Haunt under the armpits, and resting him across his back. Angel stands up and puts Haunt into the Crucifixion. Using his massive arms to almost pop Haunt’s shoulders out of their sockets. Haunt refuses to yield, but the pain began to take it's toll. His eyes rolled over as his head began to slump. Seconds before Haunt enters the void of unconsciousness, Angel moves his legs and releases the deathlock, then lifts Haunt up and lands a running crucifix liger bomb into the table with all the glass and weapons. The force was so strong, Haunt slid on the ground, scraping over the glass and thumbtacks, before landing outside the Asylum. He lies there motionless, as Archangel raises his arms in victory to the crowd, to the sound of some cheering, and mostly booing.

Nicole Carson walked into the hallways of the Asylum, a smug look on her face as she opened the door to a locker room. Walking in, she dropped her bag onto the bench before her. She cradled her United Kingdom championship in her left arm as she used the other to open her gym bag.

A sharp light caught off something inside the back. It was blinding, and anything seen was pure whiteness. But Carson reached in and pulled the object out of the bag.

It was Eddie Cheno's nine millimeter gun. The gun he threatened her with. The gun he threatened Campbell with. And the same gun he threatened himself with.

Guess she took more with her than memories from their relationship.

"FUCK IT ALL!" Joe Campbell screamed in the general directions of Beef, El Janito, and Steve, collectively known as Mega Job. "You couldn't even beat the BOWELL MOVEMENT?!?!"

"Well, uh... uhm... no." was Beef's response. "It's all really complicated, Joeyjoejoe, and it has to do wi-"

"I don't want to fucking hear it! All I want to know is where this came from!" Joe yelled, handing Beef a letter with a plaid envelope.

Beef recognized it immediately, but before he could double check, Janito snatched the letter from Joe's hand and read it outloud.

"Dear Joe Campbell,

You smell.

Love,

Beef."

"What in the HELL?!" Beef yelled, before he snatched the envelope from Janito and reading it, himself. He noticed with some concern that the original signature of the envelope, belonging to the mayor of his beloved city of Beefville, had been scratched out, and replaced with Beef's name, written in crayon.

"The 'F' is backwards! The 'F' in my name is BACKWARDS! That angel chick couldn't even write my name properly!"

"Really? Get the F out!" was the inevitable Janito response.

Joe Campbell slammed his hands on his desk, stopping Mega Job in their tracks. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Mega Job did so.

"God damn it all. I've dealt with you idiots for nearly a whole year, and while you're amusing for a few weeks, you've done nothing but fucking disappoint me and make a disgrace of this promotion! You and that walking corpse!"

"I am not a walking corpse!" Beef yelled. He then realized who Joe was talking about. "Oh. You mean him."

Beef jerked a thumb behind him, at Ken War. Ken War smiled, waved, and promptly died for some reason that'll be explored whenever I feel like it.

"Right. Anyway, you three are on probation until further notice."

"No probation without masterbation, I say!" Janito blurted out.

Everyone glared at him.

"Um, nevermind."

We'll be back later.

It was quite a shock when Nicole Carson revealed to the world that she was playing with Eddie Cheno this entire time, just in a valid attempt to make sure she kept the United Kingdom championship into Immortals and then once again past Immortals. See, the thing is, her plan backfired.

She now faces the wrath and fury of a man scorn, and just like any self-righteous women, Eddie isn't looking at the gender of the person who scorned him. He's not looking at the sex, the relationship that was developed in a sea of false emotions.

All he was looking at was pain.

Much like his battle with Providence months earlier, Eddie Cheno is focusing on retribution more than anything else. Eddie Cheno's desire to harm Nicole Carson overseeds the thought of him gaining the United Kingdom Championship, and yet, that's how this all started.

Nicole on the other hand? That's all she cares about. She doesn't care about the pain, she doesn't care about the emotions, and she doesn't care about Cheno. All that matters is that she walks out with the championship belt still wrapped around her shoulders.

Past the suicide, past the relationship, past the police charges that were dropped, was a little sniveling bitch manipulating one of the few good men left in the world just so she could get her way.

And with that would be retribuition. "The Blood, The Sweat, and the Tears" by Machine Head came over the pa system in the dank pit that was the Asylum. As contrary to normal popular belief, Nicole Carson walked out from the back holding the UK championship high. In most wrestling promotions, the champion always came second. I guess Carson couldn't wait to retain, smuggingly staring down the fans dressed out in full police attire. She had the works, pepper spray, bully clubs, anything and everything that she could carry... including a small caliber gun. The same gun that seemed to start this war. The same gun that almost ended all of their lives. The same gun that almost brought forth furious vengeance down apon Joe Campbell.

Nicole carried it like a Badge of Pride.

She climbed into the Asylum cage, making sure not to rip her outfit on the cage wall. Carson didn't relinquish the title from her waste, before standing in the Asylum cage, extending her hands and telling Eddie to, "bring it."

"Smoke two Joints" by Sublime interrupted Carson's music, prompting a large change in vocal opinion to the positive side of things. Carson waited impatiently, staring towards the entrance way before her and hoping to get in and out of the cage with the title still in her grasp. After a few moments, she dropped her guard. Eddie wasn't there.

Eddie isn't here?

Carson stood around the Cage with a smug look on her face that you just wished Eddie would wipe off. Thing is, he wasn't coming out from the back. "Smoke two Joints" restarted from the begining, as Carson went back down to read position, just eyeing the entrance way and cradling in baseball's ready position.

The fans response died down for the second time tonight due to the no-show of Cheno. Would Carson win by forfeit? Because these ten minutes would have been a jip if that's the case. These ravenous fans wanted to see Eddie Cheno gain a sort of retribution against the woman that played him. These fans wanted Carson to pay.

Carson walked over to the back of the Asylum cage, and rested against it, just waiting for Eddie to make his way down to his fate. She stood there with her arms crossed, a smug smile on her face as if she's already achieved victory. Little did she know...

Eddie Cheno struck. Climbing out of the audience, he slowly crept towards the unknowing Carson who stood inside the cage, her hair dangeling at her side. Moments later, Eddie Cheno reached out, making his presence felt by grabbing her hair and pulling it pratically through the Asylum cage. Carson had no ability to fight back, as Eddie Cheno put a small portion of her hair inside of his pipe, used his free hand to hold the shotgun and took a deep inhale. Carson attempted to wriggle free but Cheno had her hair firmly in tack, as he litterally stood there on the outside, smoking Nicole Carson.

Cheno let go of her hair as Carson fell to the asylum canvas from her momentum of attempting to free herself. She immediatly got to her feet and pulled the back of her hair to her face, only to reveal in horror that it has been horribly burnt. Eddie shrugged from the outside as Carson immediatly went to try the offensive. She raced towards the cage and pratically hurdled over it, still keeping her feet locked inside. She wanted Eddie's hair to pull him in, but he simply took a few steps back to avoid the confrontation. As Carson dangeled there, Eddie grabbed her by her top and ripped her down to the concrete below, nearly cracking her back in the process.

And here, Eddie Cheno would have the advantage before the match even started. Carson didn't know how to fall. Carson hasn't fought in the confides of AROUND the steel cage, while Eddie Cheno has. And being that there's a wrestling promotion just next store, Eddie was fairly certain he could find his own tricks lying underneath the cage. And reaching underneath while Carson writhed in pain, he was able to pull out a bong.

Not just any bong. His trademark glass bong. He raised it high in the sky for the fans to shot their approval, as he awaited Carson to get to her feet to deliver what could very well be a knock out blow.

And as Carson did slowly stumble, clutching her back, Eddie crucified her, doing the catholic sign of prayer on her fallen body. Following that up was one of the most vicious shots that Eddie Cheno has ever done inside the Asylum with his glass bong. Shattering the thickest part over the back of Carson's neck, the glass shattered and sprew about the first rows surround the cage and the action. Carson's neck started to bleed just a bit as she lay face down on the concrete.

Eddie wasn't showing any mercy though, grabbing her up by the hair and slowly tossing her back into the Asylum cage. He followed suit, as a ten count started.

1... Carson dazefully lay on the asylum mat, feeling a warm spot on the back of her neck. Confused, she attempted to get to her feet.

2.... Carson held the back of her neck in a sharp stabbing pain and fell back to her belly down position she was in moments ago.

3... Fighting through the pain, Carson started to get to her feet, ever so slowly. Cheno didn't wait for her to regain her balance, immediatly soccer kicking her in the midsection, sending her tumbling into the center of the cage. Being that Carson still had the UK championship around her waist, she obviously felt the pain more than just a normal kick would give.

Carson sat in the ring clutching her ribs as Cheno leant down onto a bended knee. Instead of proposing, Cheno slapped the taste out of Carson's mouth, which changed her squinshing face into one of shock. Cheno then took a wad of his own saliva and spat into her face. With remarkable aim, it landed inside her wide-opened mouth and down the back of her throat, and before she knew it, she had swallowed the crow that Cheno had prepared. And it wasn't as tasteful as she expected.

Carson reached out in a fit of rage and grabbed Cheno by his throat. Cheno gagged at Carson's pressed nails dug into his skin, causing small indentations and eventually holes in his neck where his blood slowly began to ooze out of. Carson regained her footing, as both man and woman stood on their feet. Cheno looked at Carson and her iron claw clapse with remorse, before Carson let go with a vicious field goal kick that sent Cheno's private parts 65 yards and through the metal uprights. You could almost hear Tom Dempsey and Jason Elam let out a groan that their record would have broken had this been another sport entirely.

Cheno fell to his knees, which was obviously a precarious, and somewhat erotic position.

Carson thrusted her crotch at her former lover, before swerving him at the last moment with a vicious knee under the jaw that sent Eddie hurdling backwards and onto his back.

1... Eddie Cheno rolled over to his stomach and reached towards his lips, feeling a faint metallic taste enter his mouth.

2... Eddie pushed up with his elbow to get to a fallen position, before lifting his upper body to a sitting position, as he did, Carson laid into him with a vicious shot from her bully club to the back of the neck. Well, at least they were even with the blood drawn bulls-eyes that have now on the back of their necks.

1... The count restarted as Eddie held the back of his head. He was trying to dull the sharp stabbing pain he felt but it wasn't of much use. Carson looked on to attempt to climb back on top of the fallen Eddie but she was held back by her own desire to win the Championship matchup.

2... Eddie shook his head free of the cobwebs, but may have hurt himself more by swinging the wound around violently. Eddie began to dazzefully regain his footing, pulling his knees under his stomach for leverage.

3... Carson looked on as miraciously, Eddie Cheno slowly began to get to his feet. She wondered how in the hell Cheno could do what he was doing, and there's only one real answer to that.

Vengeance.

4... The count stopped as Eddie regained his footing, and Carson was quick to jump on the approach. Pulling out pepper spray, she walked over to the recovered Cheno and quickly sprayed him in the eyes. Thing is, Cheno saw it coming. He turned his head at the last second and delivered a forearm shot to Carson that sent her reeling, and the pepper spray flying out of the Asylum cage. Down on the canvas, she reached into her batman utility belt for something else she could use to her advantage, when her hand rested on the silver nine millimeter. She let out a devilish smile.

Before she could draw, Eddie spear tackled her from her sitting position and rolled with her. Eventually landing on top, he delievered a few vicious rights and lefts to Carson's stunned face, her lip surely to be swollen by the next night. Cheno caught Carson with another blow, this time to the eye. I think Carson ordered a black eye when she did what she did, and Eddie was going to deliver like a restraunt waiter. Then again, that was just an appetizer.

Eddiie drew his hand back for another blow, but Carson caught it with a hand she had been able to wriggle free. Eddie went for the other side, but she used the hand that she caught to blow it. Eddie caught his own wrist with a vicious shot of fury that ran all along his right hand and up his arm and bone. Eddie quickly got up off of Carson, clutching at his wrist in the sharp pain. It was almost as if you had caught your funny bone on the side of a desk, and Cheno had no use for his right hand until the feeling subsided.

With this, Carson took advantage once more. She unwrapped the championship that was still around her waist, took it by one of the leather strap sides, and swung it in a whip lashed over head motion, smaking Eddie in the forehead with the middle of the belt. Cheno fell down to the canvas and reached up to feel yet more blood flowing from his open wound, as Carson immediatly hooked the fallen Cheno in a Knee bar. Eddie screaming in pain as his knee was contorted in a direction that it just wasn't supposed to be. Carson took this as a sign, locking the hold in and wrenching Eddie's knee cap even further into a position it should not be in.

Eddie reached out and grabbed Carson by her hair. The same hair Eddie had turned to a crispy brown, and pulled at it. He did it slowly so that Carson's hair wouldn't be pulled out, but just so that she would feel the pain of Eddie slowly ripping her hair out. It's almost like the principle of a bandage. If you quickly rip, the pain is minimal and done with. If you take your time trying not to hurt yourself, you wind up worse off than you could have been. Cheno used this to pull Carson off of Cheno's knee and both back down to a kneeling position.

They both stared at one another in kneeling positions, almost like two small strays fighting over the scrapes left out from behind a small diner. Their eyes both looked fiery with adrenaline and emotion, as they each pounced on one another. They rolled around the mat in a romp that may even be considered sexual playful wrestling, before Carson landed on top. She made a small thrust to the fallen and pinned Cheno with her hips, and then blew him a small kiss before headbutting him in his blood covered forehead. Carson now was bathed in Cheno's crimson clothes. Confused, she reached up and checked. She saw blood on her forehead, and assumed Cheno had busted her open, but in reality, it was simply his blood that had gotten onto her body.

But this gave her a reason. She reached down to her belt buckle again for her gun. For his gun. Cheno wrenched his hand free and was able to grab her by the wrist just as she reached around and grabbed the nine millimeter. Carson let out a cry of pain as it was CHENO'S nails digging into Carson's skin. Hopefully paying her back for the pain that she inflicted on his own neck. Carson reached around her belt and snapped Eddie Cheno in a pair of hand cuffs. She was able to lock his one hand in them, but couldn't seem to lock his other, which was still pinned underneath her knee. She tried to wriggle his hand free from underneath her, but Eddie was smart enough to realize her plans. Without hands, his offense would have been drastically reduced. Imagine being unable to punch and unable to pick up your opponent in what realistically could be a fight to the death. A fight you've been waiting for. If you really want to see what a handcuffed man can do, just rent the Foley/Rock match from years ago.

Or don't. Campbell hates that.

Cheno fought with all of his might, but that's where Nicole's utility belt of tricks came in. She took out a tazer and litterally zapped him into the pair of handcuffs. After Cheno recovered from the daze, he realized his hands had been cuffed together, and that the tazer bullet was still inside his stomach.

Carson got to her feet and let Cheno take in his surroundings. At least for a split second before sending 50 voltz or whatever the voltage was into his beaten and bloody body.

"You have the right to SHUT THE FUCK UP" Carson said, before laying in another voltage charge into Cheno's body. But with everything Carson threw at him, Cheno just kept coming up.

"I..." Cheno stammered. Breatheless. "I funken wave dat right biznitch!" Cheno screamed with his last breathe, before saluting Carson in the one way he knew how. Two middle fingers. The dream for any pothead fulfilled. Flicking off an officer of the law.

That didn't reduce his sentance at all, as Carson let loose with another volt blast into Cheno's stomach. Cheno fell to the mat, clutching at his body as Carson looked at the tazer. She wondered how Eddie kept getting to his feet. The voltage wasn't nearly as high as she could get it.

But while she was fiddeling with the device, Eddie Cheno ripped the tazer bullet from his midsection, drawing a small bit of blood, and charged Carson. Before Nicole knew what was happening, Eddie Cheno had tackled her, and was attempting to shove down the small tazer end down her throat with both of his hands.

Carson, not handcuffed, was able to kick Cheno's wounded midsection and send him off of her. Cheno got to his feet quick as Carson followed suit. She smiled, looking down at Cheno's handcuffed hands and realizing how easy it was going to be to end this fight. "Are you... resisting arrest?" Carson stammered, smiling before tossing her back in as if caught in front of a wind machine and modeling for the cover of Swimsuit Illustrated.

Cheno looked down at his hands and then at the smirking Carson before him. That's when he had the perfect idea. He took his hands to his side, and delievered a vicious uppercut underneath her jaw. Carson's head bounced from front to back like one of the worse cases of whiplash that could have ever been seen. She tumbled to the mat in a heap.

Clearin' da Funken Table.

Modified of course due to the circumstances, but possibly more effective.

1... Carson lied on the mat, clutching her jaw and starstruck.

2... Cheno looked down at her, and for the first time since the words have been levied down on him, he almost felt sorry for her.

3... Carson tried to turn over onto her back, holding her face and revealing a small wound on her check. She looked up at Cheno with glazed over eyes.

4... She almost reached out for help, and Cheno was going to recipricate...

5... Until he remembered what she had done to him. All the lies. The fake suicide. The UK Title...

6... The breakup with her boyfriend, the meaningless sex that she seemed to make seem more than it was. The partnership...

7... Eddie extended his hand, helping Carson to her feet. She took it in reception, being slowly pulled to her feet. Carson recovered, dusting off her attire before Eddie Cheno went for a vicious Needle Jab(Front Side Kick). Carson was able to catch it coming, ducking underneath and driving Eddie Cheno back first into the Asylum cage and back down to the mats. Eddie Cheno didn't have his feet, and only had what was in actuality one hand. Carson knew what was next.

She pulled the nine millimeter out of her trusty belt, and pointed it towards the face of Eddie.

She was a women at the end of her ropes, desperatly trying to keep her championship against a man that just wouldn't stay down. No matter how hard she tried, Eddie just kept coming back for more.

Is his life worth more than the UK Championship?

Hell no. Then again, it's not only his life that would be lost.

It would be her own. She didn't have the authority to kill someone in the Asylum cage with a gun. She had the authority outside of the cage. But she didn't care about Eddie. She never did. He was just a fun toy to play with, and a toy to manipulate until she was safe with her championship.

She couldn't kill him.

So she stuck the barrel of the gun into Eddie's mouth. Eddie's eyes opened in horror as Carson kept playing with the thoughts that ran rampant in her head. It wasn't mercy she was playing with. It was fear.

Eddie begged with his eyes for his own life. The power Carson weilded now was greater than any she's felt before. Being that she IS the law, that's a very large statement to say.

Meanwhile, on Eddie's side of things, he had no idea what was next. He didn't know the bitch was crazy enough to do what she was doing. He didn't know if she would or not, and he realized that's what he was most afraid of. Not the fact that he was going to die. He could accept death if he had to. But the uncertainty...

And that's when everything went dark.

Carson stood up from Cheno's fallen body, and in a state of shock, dropped the gun to the asylum canvas.

1... Carson looked on in horror, but in satisfaction. It was a confusing sort of play on emotions.

2... Cheno laid face up, staring at the lights. It hadn't been the first time that has happened, but in this situation?

3... Carson stared on, like witnessing a carwreck. Not helping out the survivors but driving on at slow speeds just to get as much of it into your system. Carson was the modern day american driver on the highways of American, staring at the wreckage before her while being waved on with white flags.

4... Jaws were dropped. They hadn't seen anything like this in a long time, and especially not in a feud that had such a low profile build up like this one. No one expected this to lead up to a gunshot. No one expected this fight to be anything more than your everyday fight. I guess expectations are foolish inside the Asylum fencing.

5... Carson kept looking. Maybe she was wondering what was next, maybe she was thinking that somehow, he would get up, that he would still take the championship from her. She reached down and cradled the nine millimeter in her hands.

6... That's when Carson caught a small glimpse. Eddie Cheno's stomach was expanding and retracting at slow speeds. Eddie hasn't died, but he surely had felt what a bullet to the back of the neck would do.

7... This fight was over, Carson breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't killed her life in the process of retaining, but no man alive could withstand a bullet wound to the back of the neck to come back for the fight.

8... Cheno gasped for breath while laying face up. He saw the lights but felt no pain, except for an extreme discomfort while attempting to breathe. He stuck his tongue to the left side of his check, and felt a cool breeze on, what appeared to be the other side. His eyes widened in horror.

9... Carson hadn't blown out the back of Cheno's neck, she hadn't shot his brains out. It seems that at the moment the trigger was pulled, Carson pulled her arm to the side and shot out part of Cheno's check and jaw.

10.

The war may be over, but the casualties will forever linger.

Paramedics raced down towards the Asylum cage immediatly following the fight. Nicole Carson picked up her UK Championship and quietly left the cage area to heckles and angry chants from the crowd. She didn't care, blowing them off as she went to the backstage area.

The paramedics immediatly began to tend to Eddie Cheno, hoping to bypass the shock part of a horrible physical wound. Calmly, they tried to bring Eddie out of the cage, while all along, Joe Campbell stood at the top of the ramp with a worrid face. Was Eddie Cheno supposed to be the sixth illiad man in tonight's main event? It couldn't be, considering he lost to Ricky Wasp. Then again, Joe Campbell's not one for rules.

But something tells me that his worry is rooted elsewhere. And as Eddie Cheno walked out from the cage, Joe Campbell did the best impression of someone who cared that he could.

He calmly stepped aside and let the paramedics do their work.

Anarchy in the U.K." by Megadeth blared.

The fans were confused, then they reacted with surprise when a man in a business suit came to the ring. Behind him was apparently Mongo McMichael, and he was carrying a Halliburton briefcase. The man entered the ring, and it was all too apparent of the identity of this man.

Sphere.

"I came here, because I saw something earlier tonight. So, the Shamans of Bob brought me and Mongo here. Now, as you all know, I run the fWo, and..."

Ever heard the sound of 35,000+ fans laughing in unison?

Now you've heard it.

"Huh... HEY! Shut up, or I'll bring Mike Heftel to this arena and make him do the Macarena!"

The fans were silent.

"There. That's better. Ahem. Beef. Janito. Steve. You all know the rules when you signed up for the fWo, and..."

What would happen to be Joe Campbell's choice of music for the month, "Smack My Bitch Up" by Prodigy, blared out, bringing about Joe Campbell to a mixed reaction. He held a microphone and stared at Sphere.

"What in the bloody FUCK are you doing here, and why is THAT thing with you?!" Joe yelled, pointing at Mongo. Sphere looked at him and shook his head.

"I was a Horseman, bay-ba, yeah!"

Joe did a double-take. "What did he just say?"

Sphere shrugged. "Hell if I know, I think he just makes up his own language. Anyway, we have come because of Mega Job."

"What? What in the hell are you talking about that justifies us wasting precious fucking PPV time on your sorry ass? I should have you and whatever THAT THING is thrown out of the building!" Joe shouted. Sphere nearly pissed himself at Joe's tone, but he calmed down and opened Mongo's Halliburton. He pulled out a few papers and read them off.

"It cannot be done, escape is inevitable... I would accept my fate, rationing the raisin and eating tiny scrapings, this would be enough nutrition to survive for a week if urine drinking was allowed... from there, I would use the sunblock to write my last will and testament on the wall... before drinking it as a lubricant, swallowing the umbrella like a sword eater, and opening it while in windpipe, killing myself horribly.

What? You want 284 words… and I’m left here dying in this cold windowless doorless room alone, bite me, Mike Renner... bite me and die, because when the shit hits the fan and my brain hits the wall... it’ll be on your conscience, your umbrella of death will have brought about my untimely demise.

So, as Joe Campbell... owner of the Asylum, I would like to close my statement and contest entry with the following song which I have composed.

Fidelly boo shabba, Fidelly boo shabba, Fidelly boo shabba, Fidelly boo shabba..."

Joe Campbell blinked.

"WHERE IN THE HELL DID YOU GET THAT?"

Sphere blinked, looked at the paper, and proceeded to crumble it up and toss it at Mongo.

"You idiot. Where's the CONTRACT?!"

"I was a Horseman, bay-ba, yeah!" Mongo said, before pulling the contract out of his pants. Sphere took it and held it as far away from his face as possible, touching it as if its very touch was acidic.

"You truly degrade this species."

Sphere read it outloud.

"Should any member of the fWo have three hundred or more pounds of fiber and at least two college girls dropped on them in the same match, then they must leave whatever federation they work for immediately. And it just so happens that Mega Job works for the fWo!"

Joe Campbell, for the first time ever, smiled in the presence of a wrestler.

"Oh, is THAT all you came for? Please, please, take them. I hope I never, ever see them ever again."

With that, Joe Campbell turned and left to the sounds of "Smack My Bitch Up".

Could it be that we have seen the last of Mega Job?

Thirteen months.

For the two men involved in the next match, it's about as long as it's been since these two competed against one another. In July of 2001, Joey Malone fought Kent Anthason in Life, Death, and Endurance II... and came away as the loser via questionable means. In August of 2001, Joey Malone and Kent Anthason were the two last surviving opponents of the real Mall Brawl(not WJC), and both men won the match by a draw.

Neither man has ever had a clean win over the other in singles competition.

"Shame" by BT.

The fans cheered, oddly enough. Despite the fact that Joey was a member of one of the most disliked factions in 21W, he was still getting face pops. His wife, Keri, was accompanying him down to the ring, even though she'll likely be scared out of her wits for Joey during this match. Joey had an odd smile coming down to the ring, as Action! Wrestling's Bantam champion entered the Asylum cage. Joey has never been in a match of this kind, a match with the Asylum's rules.

Joey kicked at the cage to test it, and winced in pain when he noticed how strong it was. This was going to be a long night for him.

"No Way Out".

A familiar tune to Malone, and for many other followers of the man known only as Kent Anthason. Anthason walked down to the ring, with the fans giving him a positive reaction.

Anthason entered the Asylum cage, and glared at Malone. The two haven't been on speaking terms in months, and now, they were facing one another.

The bell rang.

A main event in any other wrestling event except this one, had begun.

Malone and Anthason circled each other, neither man wanting to make the first mistake.

Anthason swung with a hard right punch, but Joey managed to duck it and trip up Anthason.

Anthason quickly scrambled to his feet and tried to punch Joey again, but Joey got a go-behind into a waistlock takedown, which he somehow segued into a single leg crab.

It was plainly obvious that since Joey had a huge disadvantage under Asylum rules, he was trying to wear down Anthason using his wrestling ability.

That wasn't going to work.

Anthason tripped Joey to get out of the submission, and got to his feet first. He caught Joey with a leg sweep that sent Joey tumbling down onto the Asylum cage's canvas face first.

Joey stood up, but Anthason clocked him with a stiff right hand that felled Malone and knocked him into the steel cage.

The fans erupted with shock, followed by respect.

Anthason, a wrestler, was playing by Asylum's rules.

Malone, a wrestler, was playing by the knocked silly rules.

The referee backed Anthason away and started his ten count.

At four, Joey was up. He shooked the cobwebs before he was torn into by Anthason, with clubbing blows to Joey's head. Joey tumbled backwards into the cage for a second time, and Anthason laid into him against the cage with right and left hands. Joey covered up his head against the cage while Anthason pounded him. If this had continued, Anthason would have been the victor, but in pure desperation, Joey put up both feet at Anthason's chest and shoved them forward, pushing Anthason away. Anthason charged in on Joey, but he had a nice meeting with the cage, via a Malone drop toe hold.

Joey was bleeding, via Anthason's punches.

Kent was bleeding, via Malone's drop toe hold.

As Anthason struggled to get to his feet, Joey took flight by jumping up on the top of the cage before jumping backwards and catching Anthason in the face with a dropkick. Joey got to his feet first and noticed the cut over his left eye, and wasn't too pleased in the least. He waited for Anthason to get to his feet.

CRAAAACK!!!

What could only be described as the loudest superkick to ever be heard in Asylum or 21W history soon followed, sending Anthason to the canvas in the heap. Malone smiled to himself and backed away from Anthason, waiting for the ten count so he could get the hell out of here.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

No.

Anthason was up, and Joey couldn't believe it. He already wanted this match over. He charged Anthason with a clothesline, but Anthason ducked it. He went for his finishing maneuver, the Slight of Mind, but Joey flipped over his back to avoid taking the move.

However, Anthason anticipated this and whacked Joey across the jaw with his forearm as he spun around. Joey fell to the canvas in a heap.

Anthason decided that enough was enough, and he called for a steel chair. A ring attendant tossed it toward him and Anthason caught it. Anthason swung hard at Joey's head.

SMAAAAACK!

A loud chairshot echoed throughout the arena. Joey actually remained standing for a few moments before he collapsed under his own wobbily legs. Malone was bleeding much more, now, and Keri wore a look of worry on her face. Anthason realized that Joey was still moving, and decided to go through an effort to make that not so. He raised the chair for another, killing blow.

Out of instinct, Joey moved.

Anthason dropped the chair, the impact of the chair making contact with the canvas stunning him. Joey quickly scrambled to his feet and stomped the chair to keep Anthason from picking it back up. Anthason tried a right hand, but Joey avoided the contact by sidestepping. He caught Anthason with a quick DDT, bouncing Anthason's head off of the Asylum mat.

Both men down. Thus, the double KO count.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Malone was up.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Anthason was up, though on shaky legs. Joey went for a second superkick, but Anthason quickly caught on, ducked it, and swept out the standing leg with a foot sweep. Joey fell to the mat, and Anthason was quick to capitalize. He quickly hooked Joey up and hit a snap suplex turned into a ¾ turn neckbreaker, a move known as the Hymn of the Fallen.

The fans erupted in shock, concern, and cheering, all at once.

Malone was down, possibly out, and Anthason seemed very happy. He stood over Joey and hoped he wasn't getting up from that one.

One. Two.

Three. Four.

Five. Six.

Seven. Eight.

No.

Joey, despite being on shaky feet, was back up. Anthason charged him and caught him with a quick kneelift. This sent Joey down, but Anthason knew that a simple kneelift wasn't going to finish him. A go-behind and waistlock later, and a move that would cause the fans to erupt in a frenzy followed.

CRRUUUUUNNNCCCHHHH!!!

A released German suplex INTO the cage!

The sheer neck-breaking force of the maneuver could have probably finished Joey for good. The fans buzzed with shock, and the referee quickly made the ten count.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Ten?

No!

Malone was up, bleeding from his head profusely. This match wasn't exactly something he bargained for, but he was up. Anthason was stunned, and he decided to finish Joey for good. He pulled him to the center of the Asylum cage and again went for the Slight of Mind.

However, just before Kent could put him down with the facebuster portion of the move, Joey wiggled out to his feet in front of Anthason. He quickly went low on Anthason and grabbed the steel chair.

CRACK!

Anthason was wobbilly, but the shot wasn't enough to send him down.

CRAAAACCCKKK!

That one was.

But Joey wasn't even close to finished.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

Anthason was being pounded into jelly, and the fans were cheering on Joey. Joey took in the cheers, and aimed for one last shot.

Low blow.

Joey collapsed to the mat, and Anthason shook the cobwebs long enough to aim a shot at the kneeling Malone.

CRAAAAACK!!!

A part of the chair broke and flew into the crowd upon impact, and both Anthason and Joey fell to the mat with a thud.

The fans were ecstatic, and both men were down and bleeding. Anthason was up first at the count of six, but Joey had the better position needed for a low blow of his own. Anthason leaned forward in pain, in prime position for Joey to land a blow that would return the favor for the German suplex from earlier. He lifted him up onto his shoulders.

The Malonestrom.

The sickening thud of Anthason's head crashing to the canvas echoed throughout the arena. The fans, again, were on their feet, and dueling Malone and Anthason chants were heard. Both men were down, and the count was made.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Malone was up.

Eight.

Nine.

Anthason was up, much to the surprise of the crowd. Malone didn't know what else to do, except for the one move that could put any man on the face of the planet away.

Kick in the gut.

Everest Cataclysm?

How about a shot in the balls, instead?

Joey fell to the canvas. Anthason, wobbilly at best, decided to take an interesting turn with the way the match was proceeding. He leapt over the Asylum wall and to the floor, and since the match was made under Extreme rules by Joey, that wasn't a ring out. Anthason pulled out a ladder from underneath the cage to a big reaction from the crowd, and brought it into the ring along with two other steel chairs. He climbed back into the Asylum, but didn't anticipate the idea that Joey might have picked up both of the chairs.

Joey tossed it to Anthason, and Anthason caught it out of reflex. He didn't see Joey pick up the other chair until it was too late.

CRAAAAACCKKK!!!!

The chairs met each other with such an impact that Anthason was immediately deposited back to the floor. The crowd exploded at the ferocity of the impact. Joey dropped the chair in the ring and hopped over the cage's barrier. He pulled Anthason to his feet, and picked him up on his shoulders, fireman's carry-style. The fans reacted as if Joey would hit him with the Malonestrom on the floor, but Joey simply dropped Anthason face-first on the guardrail.

Anthason fell back on the floor, more of an accumulated exhaustion than just the hotshot.

Joey pulled Anthason back up and tossed him back into the cage. Joey reentered, himself, and then set the ladder against the cage wall, mainly to move it out of the way, more than anything.

He went for the Everest Cataclysm, but Anthason picked him up and backdropped Joey on the ladder he just moved.

Joey's leg was stuck, and he couldn't get loose. Anthason smiled at this, and grabbed a steel chair.

CRACK!

A vicious chairshot to Joey's exposed chest pretty much took all of the wind out of him. Joey was on dream street, and the next shot wasn't going to make his life any better.

CRAAAACK!!!

In a near-reenactment of their legendary meeting at Life, Death, and Endurance II, Anthason nailed a chair-assisted dropkick on Joey, who was trapped in a ladder. Finally was Joey able to get out of the ladder, but it would take a miracle for him to stand.

Anthason stopped the referee from counting, mainly so he could inflict a final, killing blow. He put the ladder on top of Joey, as well as the extra chair, and then grabbed his chair and climbed up to the top of the cage. But a disturbance in the aisleway caused the fans to react, and that same disturbance shoved Anthason off of the cage.

The Cult Heroes.

Jason Nuclear entered the cage and pulled Anthason to his feet, before delivering the Nuclear Winter right in the center of the cage. Tyson pulled Joey out of the wreckage and proceeded to hold him up, while Crisp delivered the Icon to Anthason. Crisp demanded that the referee count, which he did. The fans, meanwhile, weren't too happy that Joey's friends have gotten involved.

The ten count was academic.

"Shame" hit again, and quickly, the Heroes made an exit, with Tyson helping Joey to the back. Joey didn't look to happy and was yelling toward Jon Crisp about the interference, but Crisp didn't pay him any mind.

Joey Malone might have won on this night, but it was a tainted win.

Just another in a series of Malone and Anthason tainted victories.

Silence had filled the arena as the last contest was over. The time to move on has come and now the past of three wrestlers led to this confrontation. A confrontation so brutal, mental scars would remain.

And so it began.

"Bodies" by Drowning Pool was the first theme that played over the speakers that evening. A man, filled with rage, aptly named Pain came out from the back, looking ready to fight, and he was. He had a score to settle and he knew that this night would be his only chance. He took that mentality to the ring with him and he entered, looking more determined than ever, but all he did was wait amongst the roaring cheers from the crowd on hand that evening.

A few moments had passed before the next theme began playing. A theme that garnered a bigger eruption from the crowd than the previous. The man that the crowd was looking at was Ninja K, dressed in his clan's attire. He made his way to the ring, holding his head high, with honor as his good spirited nature was believed to lead him to victory here tonight, but before he could find out, he had to wait for the third man. The man who has lost his sanity over the past month.

The crowd reacted negatively for that very man. They reacted that was as soon as his theme started to play. That theme was "Live Again" by Sevendust.. the theme of the man who had a new found hatred amongst him. That man was Derecho. Derecho walked out from the back, with a look on his face like no other. Before the change of heart, Derecho was a confident man, but that confidence has slipped away into a state of disturbance. Derecho looked like he could kill anything that moved. Maybe not a good thing for the other two men who had patiently waiting in the ring for him.

Derecho didn't keep them waiting much long as he entered the ring, still looking just as disturbed, but the time to unless any anger had arrived with the light dinging of the ring bell, which went off three times.

The match had begun and they all circled each other, looking for a weak spot or opening in anyone's guard, but they did not find any. It wasn't until Derecho made the first move as he charged at Ninja K with full speed, knocking him down with a spear to the canvas. Derecho pummeled Ninja K with rapid-fire right hands, but Pain put a stop to it as he pulled Derecho off of him and delivered a harsh knife-edge chop across the chest. Derecho was slightly protected by his black shirt, but the pain still registered nonetheless. Pain hit another knife-edge chop, taking Derecho's breath away, and at the same time, it had knocked him back a few steps towards the ropes.

Pain decided to send Derecho on his way as he then backed him into the ropes and whipped him across the ring, but before Pain could perform a move, Ninja K had intercepted with a drop toe hold, which slammed Derecho face first into the canvas. Pain followed it up with an elbow drop into the upper back. Ninja K then followed that with a summersault leg drop to the back of Derecho's neck, and Pain continued the onslaught of offense with a seated drop kick into Derecho's face as Ninja K held his head up by pulling on the hair.

Derecho was out from those moves. Ninja K and Pain sensed an easy victory and decided to work together to pick apart and destroy Derecho. Pain and Ninja K decided to bring Derecho up at the same time, perhaps for a double team maneuver, but they had gotten a bit of a surprise as Derecho had then low blowed the both of them at the same time! It was then time for clothesline city as a look like none other came over Derecho's face!

Down went Ninja K!!

Down went Pain!

Down went Ninja K again!

Down went Pain again!

Derecho then grabbed Pain and Ninja K by both of their heads. He had that old school feel as he clanged both heads together. Derecho then dropped Pain with a textbook drop kick, but Ninja K had other plans. He grabbed Derecho as he was retaliating from the drop kick. Ninja K then spun with his double roundhouse kick, the Victimizer. It wiped out Derecho and he hit the canvas. Ninja K felt this match went too technical too long as he rolled to the outside to select his choice of weapon.

Pain recovered from the drop kick and rolled out of the ring as well, as he too searched for his weapon of choice.

Ninja K had selected a steel chair, and coincidentally enough, so did Pain! The two of them brought their chairs back into the ring with them and stood ready as Derecho started to come too. They tapped the chairs on the match, looking for, what has come to be known as a conchairto. Derecho rose back up and they swung, but something had gone wrong! Derecho had ducked out of the way and the chairs ended up clanging together, missing their target!

Derecho then turned and lunges forward as he knocked both chairs back into Pain and Ninja K's faces with a hellacious double clothesline. Both crumbled to the canvas as Derecho snagged the chair out of Pain's hand as he had sinister plans involving it.

The fans could only dream what Derecho had in store as he brought the chair over to the turnbuckle pads where he had unfolded and wedged it into the corner with the backrest sticking out, as if it were pointed towards the center of the ring. Derecho did indeed have something evil planned as that backrest stuck out like a sore thumb. Derecho then picked Pain up off the canvas and placed him into a waist lock. Derecho began to run forward with the waist lock still locked in place. He ran Pain right into that corner and the chair's backrest found it's home as it jammed into Pain's neck! Pain collapsed to the canvas as he tried to suck in some air, but experienced some trouble doing so.

The crowd was in shock, but they would bear witness to it a second time as Derecho headed back over to Ninja K, who was starting to get back up. Derecho used a knee to Ninja's face to dizzy him and it worked, for now. Derecho placed Ninja K into the same waist lock as he did to Pain a few short moments ago. He began to charge into the corner, but Ninja had another idea. Ninja K leapt at the corner, sticking his foot on the backrest of the chair. He then pushed off, backflipping over Derecho, landing behind him. Derecho was confused for a moment, but it was too late to think as Ninja grabbed Derecho by the head and then......

CRACK!

Derecho's head went into the chair as Ninja K delivered a one-handed face plant onto the chair! Derecho collapsed to the canvas as Ninja K un-wedged the chair from the corner and laid it on top of the fallen Derecho. Ninja K then climbed the turnbuckle pads with a high-risk move in mind.

The crowd rose to their feet as they showed their support.

Ninja K took aim and front flipped off the top turnbuckle pad. He then hit his mark with a cannonball senton bomb on top of the chair and on top of Derecho. Ninja K saw a chance for victory as he quickly made the cover. The referee then got into position and counted the pinfall.

One....................................

Two...................................

Pain was there and Pain made sure that the fall didn't occur as he dropped an elbow into the lower back of Ninja K. It provided enough disturbance to knock Ninja K off of Derecho. Pain then quickly grabbed the chair that Ninja K once held and then...

THWACK!

A sickening sound echoed through the arena as the chair was dented over Ninja K's skull.

Ninja had fallen from the hard shot and Pain looked at both men, down and out and decided now was the time to raise the bar even higher. Pain rolled to the outside and he lifted up the ring apron. He sought after a new weapon and he found one in the form of a table.

Needless to say, the crowd erupted in cheers for the wooden object.

The table was then walked over to the guardrail where Pain stretched it across to the ring apron, forming a bridge of metal and pressboard. Pain rolled back in and selected Derecho as his target. He brought him up to his feet and he then walked from over to the ropes where he set him up for what looked like a suplex from the inside to the outside with the table as the landing point, but Ninja K rose back up and he rushed over as fast as he could. Pain had lifted Derecho when Ninja K arrived and much to everyone's shock, Ninja K grabbed Derecho's legs and pulled him back down, but Derecho surprised Ninja by wrapping his legs around his head. Derecho spun off with a head scissors take over, flipping Ninja K past Pain and through the ropes. Ninja was fortunate as he landed on the ring apron, but not so fortunate that he rolled onto the table. Derecho stood back up and he immediately charged forward at Pain, but Pain countered by lifting Derecho up and over the top rope!

Derecho soared through the air and slammed down on top of Ninja K, driving himself and Ninja K through the table and down to the floor mats.

"Holy Shit", the crowd chanted as the bodies of two wrestlers laid there amongst the fragments of what once was a folding table.

Pain walked to the corner and he ascended the turnbuckle pads to the very top. He perched himself high, giving himself a good aerial view of his opposition. Pain then took flight, flying through the air. He then slammed down on top of Derecho and Ninja K with a body splash, crushing the two of them below. Pain stood back up and left Derecho to rot on the outside as he rolled Ninja K back into the ring. Pain once again lifted up the ring apron in search of a new toy to play with. This time he found some barbed wire.

Now things were starting to get ugly as Pain brought the wire with him back into the ring, but Pain wasn't going to use the wire in the traditional sense. Instead he would wrap the wire around one of the steel chairs, creating an even more powerful weapon.

Derecho, still groggy, rose back up to his feet. He staggered towards the ring apron where he held on for balance. Back in the ring, things were different. Pain had Ninja K set up for the kill shot, but all that was missing was a vertical base. Ninja K slowly arose, but Derecho had rolled back in. Pain readied the chair for a knockout shot when Derecho snagged it away from Pain!

THWACK!

The chair cracked over Pain's skull and the barbed wire wrapped around it, tore the flesh from Pain's forehead.

THWACK!

Ninja K was the next to receive the hellacious chairshot. He didn't bleed as he had the protection from his mask. Derecho was indecisive as to whom the next victim should be, but his mind was made up...

THWACK!

Derecho slammed the chair across Pain's back, just as he had gotten back up onto all fours, looking to get back into this match.

THWACK!

THWACK!

THWACK!

Three more chair shots rang out across Pain's back. Derecho had to make sure he would stay down. Ninja K was still down, but he couldn't take any chances. Derecho lined up the wire wrapped chair and smacked Ninja dead across the face with it as he was lying on his back. Derecho then laid the chair across Ninja's face and he simply walked away, but his destination was set on the other chair that got dented earlier. Derecho picked it up but then looked to ringside where he called for some athletic tape.

Just as he requested, he received as a roll was tossed to him from ringside. Derecho then started to tape the steel chair to his forearm. It was a rush job, but it stayed there attached, nonetheless.

Derecho then backed up into the ropes and ran at the fallen Ninja K. Derecho leapt into the air and came crashing down with a forearm shot, driving the chair attached to his arm into the wire wrapped chair, which in turn drove itself into Ninja K's face!

Both were down, one was possibly out and Derecho had his choice as to who to cover to possibly win this match, but he decided that the punishment he dished out was nowhere near the level he had hoped for. He had opted to become more violent as he grabbed the chair with the wire around it. He then began to untie the wire from the chair, making it a separate weapon once again.

His intentions were nothing new as he had attempted this in the past. Derecho walked over to Pain where he still layed face down on the canvas with a small puddle of blood underneath his head. Derecho then placed Pain into a camel clutch submission move, but Derecho rested the barbed wire across Pain's neck where he began to saw back and forth, trying to slit Pain's throat! Ninja K, somehow, someway, gathered energy and got back to his feet.

Derecho turned his head too late and all he saw was Ninja K's foot slamming into his own face. The roundhouse kick knocked Derecho down to the canvas. Pain rolled to the outside to try and regain some composure. Ninja K, on the other hand, gave chase, walking over to Derecho.

It was time for revenge as Ninja K brought Derecho to his feet. He then tried an irish whip into the corner, but Derecho reversed and sent Ninja K into the corner instead. Derecho charged in, but Ninja K leapt into the air and then wrapped his legs around Derecho's neck.

Ninja then floated over the top rope where he reached back and pulled on the waist with his spider web submission maneuver. With the match being without rules, this was legal and if Derecho submitted, it would be all over.

Pain needed to stop it and he needed to stop it fast. He grabbed a fresh new steel chair and ran around the ring to where Ninja K had the submission move locked in.

THWACK!

The chair found its mark across the back of Ninja K's skull. Ninja, like a lifeless corpse, flopped down to the floor mats as Pain looked down and grinned. Derecho turned and looked to the outside. He saw an open shot as he grabbed a hold of the top rope and slung himself over, but Pain caught his motions out of the corner of his eye. He swung the chair into Derecho's midsection while in mid flight and Derecho crashed in a heap, right beside Ninja K.

Pain then picked Derecho up off the floor mats and then placed him into a front waist lock.

He charged in and rammed Derecho back first into the guardrails. He turned around and repeated the move, this time against the ring apron. He turned once more and repeated the move again, back into the guardrails. Pain then took a step back and with his foot, pushed the chair away to the edge of the ring. In a very bold move, Pain tossed Derecho over with a belly to belly overhead release suplex. Derecho's lower back smacked against the edge of the ring apron, but he slid off and came crashing down on the back of his neck on top of the steel chair.

The crowd went silent...

There was no movement from Derecho's end, but Pain didn't care. His new threat was Ninja K, who had found his way back to his feet. Ninja was leaning against the guardrails when Derecho had hit. Pain turned around and was met with the Crescent Moon Slash..... a backflip kick to the chin. This move staggered Pain back against the ring apron.

Ninja, too, had a big spot in mind. His only hopes were that he could initiate it, and he tried as he hooked Pain for a suplex, but he quickly switched positions where Ninja had his back to the ring apron. Ninja K then picked up Pain high into the air. Being heavier than Ninja, his goal was to use the ring ropes as a tag team partner and it worked. Pain hit against the ropes and he rebounded off. Ninja took the momentum and slammed Pain stomach first across the guardrail with a reverse suplex!

Still no movement from Derecho. The worry factor has set in as the referee is checking up on him. Ninja K climbed up onto the ring apron and looked at Pain's body, draped over the guardrail. It hung there like a towel on a clothesline. Ninja K took flight as he soared through the air. He came crashing down onto Pain's lower back with a big time body splash. The force from the impact caused Ninja K to bounce off of Pain and into the front row in the crowd. Gravity had also taken effect, pulling Pain over and onto the floor mats.

Pain staggered to his feet, holding his stomach in immense angst. Ninja K quickly got back up and leapt onto the guardrail, pivoting 180 degrees as he did to where his back was facing Pain. Ninja K moonsaulted off, but his plan backfired as Pain caught him in mid air on his shoulder. Pain converted it into a fireman's carry, leaving many wondering as to where he was going with this, but then it hit..

BAM!

He spun Ninja K off into a 3/4 turn neck breaker, slamming him down on top of the floor mats.

And still.. no response from Derecho yet. The referee is trying everything, but nothing seems to be working. Derecho be taken out of the match was in the referee's thoughts, but Derecho was still breathing, and it was the only hesitant for the referee's decision.

Pain lifted the ring apron again as it seemed to be his favorite activity in this match so far. What he pulled out next was a sledgehammer. The people couldn't contain themselves as a thunderous ovation had erupted.

All of a sudden, the concern was over.. for Derecho's sake as he sprung up to his feet as quickly as anyone had seen. It was apparent that he was just resting and it caught Pain by surprise. Derecho snagged the sledgehammer away from Pain. He then jammed the business end of it into Pain's stomach, doubling him over in severe pain. Derecho then took the sledgehammer and jammed it straight down into Pain's spine, collapsing him down to the floor. Derecho then walked away from Ninja K, who was pulling himself up. Derecho turned and took aim and he ran.. he ran like hell. He slammed that sledgehammer into Ninja K's face and the impact almost took his head off!

Derecho had snapped.

Derecho dropped the sledgehammer and pulled Ninja K back up. He turned him to face the ring apron and introduced his face to the edge of it. It wasn't the only meeting between the two as Derecho slammed his face into the edge of the ring again, and again, and again, and once more for good measure. Ninja collapsed to the canvas. Pain was the next to stand up and Derecho shifted his target. He ran like hell again. This time, he body avalanched Pain up against the steel ring post, dishing out even more damage!

Derecho then grabbed Pain, looking to put him away and minus him as a factor in this match. He walked pain over and stood him in front of the steel ring steps. He then hit Pain with a front kick to the midsection, which doubled him over. Derecho lifted him to shoulder height and then..........

BLAAAAAAAM!!!!

Vortex DDT on top of the steel ring steps!!!!

The crowd could not believe what they saw. Pain was slammed right into the steel ring steps.

Derecho took some of it too, but it wasn't enough to keep him down as he got back up just as quick. Derecho made his way over to the time keeper's table where he so elegantly snagged the ring bell right from the time keeper's hands.

Ninja K began to rise to his feet once again. Derecho knew he had to act fast so he put on some speed and charged like a raging bull with the bell in his hands, but Ninja was quick to react. He leapt up onto the guardrail and then he leapt off, right at Derecho, where he hit him with a flying spin kick. The move knocked the bell into Derecho's face and he collapsed.

Ninja K then snagged Derecho up from off the floor mats and proceeded to roll him back into the ring where the barbed wire, and two dented steel chairs awaited the two conscious combatants.

Ninja made his way back into the ring where he planned on unleashing some punishment on Derecho. Ninja K had brought Derecho back to his feet, but Derecho countered with a knee lift. Something Ninja K didn't expect. Derecho followed suit with a clubbing forearm shot to the upper back. Derecho then bent over and grabbed one of the dented steel chairs, looking for a kill shot with that gleam in his eye, but Ninja K's quick-as-cat reflexes served him well once again as he was able to his another Victimizer.. the second one of the even, on Derecho. The chair flew out of Derecho's hands and out of the ring as he fell back down to the canvas. Ninja then took his direction towards the corner where he wished to climb high and he did just that.

Ninja was perched up top, waiting for Derecho to get back up. It took some time on Derecho's part, but he made it back to his feet, just in time to see Ninja K leap off the top turnbuckle pad. Ninja K then landed on Derecho's shoulders, but that wasn't the end of the sequence.

Ninja K then flipped backwards, which took Derecho over with a huracanrana. Ninja K stood back up as Derecho grabbed the ring ropes, using them for balance as that move knocked off his equilibrium quite a bit.

Ninja K knew, in his state of mind, that Derecho would immediately make the next move and Ninja K was right for as soon as Derecho pulled himself up, he charged in with a clothesline, but Ninja K ducked the attempt and spun around where he placed Derecho into a full nelson.

The Japanese Skull Splitter was imminent, but Derecho tried to counter with a side russian leg sweep, but Ninja lunged forward as Derecho fell back. Derecho hit the canvas, but Ninja remained on his feet.

Derecho then flipped onto his stomach to push himself back up. Ninja then took advantage of the situation as he ran to the ropes. He sprung off and caught Derecho under the arms with a reverse body scissors. Ninja K had then flipped between Derecho's legs and both men rotated, what seemed like in mid air. Derecho took the hit as Ninja K had hit him with a reverse body scissor powerbomb. Ninja K held Derecho down, for what surely should have been a three count.

One...................................

Two..................................

That wasn't the case as Derecho rolled backwards and back up to his feet where he slid between Ninja K's legs, putting pressure on his shoulders.

One...................................

Two..................................

Ninja K was quick to react as he pushed on Derecho's upper back, causing him to flip back over into the pinning situation that he was previously in.

One....................................

Two...................................

Once again, Derecho had rolled onto his back and then back up to his feet, but then this, he tried a different approach by front flipping through Ninja K's legs into a bridge pin.

One....................................

Two...................................

That didn't work as well as Ninja K had bridged up to stop the count. They twisted, but not fully as Derecho stopped that half way, as he set up Ninja K between his legs for the Vortex Powerbomb. He lifted Ninja to shoulder height, but Ninja K rolled down Derecho's back into a sunset flip.

One...................................

Two..................................

Derecho then shifted his weight towards Ninja as he sat up, reversing the pin.

One..................................

Two..................................

The pin was then reversed back the other way.

One..................................

Two.................................

Finally, both of them had no other choice but to kick away and kip back up. The two bloodied, beaten and exhausted men stared down as the crowd applauded their efforts, despite the characters they portrayed.

The fans were then shocked. Back from the dead came Pain. Pain slid back into the ring with great speed. He rushed in and without warning, picked up Derecho and slammed him with the Pain Killer. Ninja K had backed off after seeing that move, but Pain ignored Ninja K and went right for the pin!

One.................................

Two................................

Thre................

NO!!

Ninja K wasn't going to let victory slip away that easily. He dove right in and broke up that count, but Pain quickly stood and grabbed Ninja K. Ninja K met the same fate as Derecho and got slammed to the canvas with a Pain Killer, but full of rage... Derecho kipped up. Pain turned around and then......

BAM!!

Derecho turned the tables on Pain by hitting him with his own finisher! Derecho had delivered a Pain Killer to Pain, but Derecho wasn't satisfied... not yet. He grabbed the dented steel chair and pried it back open. He placed the chair in the center of the ring. Derecho walked over and picked Ninja K back up, only to toss him to the outside of the ring, but little did Derecho know, Pain was back up. Pain had withstood his own finisher and now he was looking for revenge! Derecho made that fatal error in worrying about the third man. So much that when he turned around, Pain picked Derecho up with one arm and spun.

CRRRAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSHHHHHH!!!!!

Derecho was NAILED with a 180 Pain Killer through the dented steel chair!!

This was it.

It was surely over..

All that was left was..........

The cover!

One.......................................

But wait! Ninja was back on the ring apron... could he make it was the question on the crowd's mind.

Two......................................

Ninja with the springboard!!

Thre.............

NO!!!

Ninja K had made it in time as he slammed into Pain with a springboard guillotine leg drop!

Derecho laid there motionless, much like before as Ninja K pulled Pain back to his feet. Ninja K didn't waist much time as he immediately went for the Japanese Skull Splitter, but Pain countered it with a standing switch into a waist lock, but Pain switched into an inverted chancery. From there he fell back with the Morphine Drop to Ninja K! Derecho was down..

Pain hit his alternate finisher. There was nothing stopping him now!

The cover!!

One.....................................

Two.....................................

Thre.........

NO!!!!!!!!

Ninja K had kicked out of the Morphine Drop and Pain was beside himself! He couldn't believe it. The crowd couldn't believe it. Nobody could!

Pain stood up, determined. He brought Ninja K back to his feet, but Ninja K showed off his cat-like quickness again as he grabbed Pain by the arm and he placed him into a pumphandle submission move, but that was only step one. From here, Ninja K would lift Pain up, but not all the way up to his shoulder. Ninja K dropped down with a pumphandle piledriver, which he called the Falling Star Piledriver! It was over! Ninja K made the cover!

One......................................

Two.....................................

CCCCRRRRRAAAAAAACCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

By some act of God... Derecho was back up and he had just broken that chair in half over Ninja K's skull! Derecho dropped on top of Ninja K with the cover! The referee went down for the count. Would this be it!?

One.....................................

Two....................................

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was over!

The closing bell had rung.

The people booed like hell, but at the same time, they cheered for the war they just had witnessed.

Derecho, for the past two months, couldn't amount to anything, but tonight, he scored his first win... he may not be a 21w champion.. he may not be a tA champion... but tonight.. he sure felt Immortal.

Sphere walked down the hallways with Mongo McMichael, all three members of Mega Job, Ken War, and Oddjob.

"They actually thought you were crazy when you said you ran the fWo?" Beef asked, to which, Sphere replied with a simple nod.

"This place is so backwater, I swear!"

They came up to what appeared to be a phone booth. Right in the middle of the hallway.

"Could you have been more bloody obvious, Sphere?" Janito asked. "Couldn't you have at least dropped the booth off outside the arena?"

Sphere shrugged.

Beef brought to light a more puzzling question. "How are we all supposed to fit in that thing, anyway? Man, why couldn't inter-dimensional travel be easier?"

"Quiet, you!" Sphere yelled, whacking Beef across the head with his papers. Beef ducked and covered, as Janito and Steve entered the booth. Beef and Sphere crammed themselves in, followed by Mongo and Oddjob. The only one left was Ken War, but Steve solves the problem by setting Ken War on fire. Ken War burns into ash, and Steve quickly uses a mini-vacuum cleaner to pick up Ken War's ashes. Steve re-entered the now-crammed phone booth.

"Next stop... the fWo!" Sphere yelled.

Sphere hit a button, and the phone booth and all of its occupants disappeared into a parallel universe.

Where the only real differences were that A) Sphere ran the fWo and B) there was no shrimp.

Well, that explains something.

Archangel Vs Mr. Haunt
Best of 3

The second of the three matches would be taking place inside Haunt's domain, the 21Wrestling ring. However, for this special event, the ropes and turnbuckles have been outlined with layers of barb-wire. Due to the brutality that lay in store, there was to be no referee to be inside the ring itself. Instead, four referees were to be on the outside, each having a section. Their sole purpose was to check the shoulders in case of a pinfall.

Haunt came out first, to no music. A good majority of the glass from the first match was still embedded in his right arm, from when he slid across the Asylum floor to the outside. Grabbing onto the middle rope, he stepped inside and paced around. A few seconds later, Archangel stepped out from behind the curtain. His hair was still a tangled mess of blood. It seems that both men had refused medical treatment after the first match.

Both were in the ring now. Haunt and Angel came in close and went for a tie-up. Haunt, more knowledgeable in the ways of wrestling than his opponent, slapped Angel's arm down and twisted behind him for a hammerlock. A look of bewilderment crossed Angel's face, as if to say this isn't going to help him at all. Haunt responded by hooking his arm around Archangel's pinned arm, and slipping his other arm under Archangel's, putting him into a half-nelson hammerlock. Haunt forced his weight down and pulled hard. Angel struggled to throw Haunt off balance, but it wasn't working. He himself was being lifted off of the ground. There was nowhere to go. The pain was excruciating, from the look on Angel's face. Haunt led Angel over to the turnbuckle, and sweeped his feet out from underneath him. It drove Angel's face into the bottom one, right into the mesh of barbwire. Once down, Haunt released his hold.

Angel struggled to get back up, holding his face. Haunt stood over him and grabbed Angel's hair. The big man countered by grabbing onto Haunt's waist and doing a belly-to-belly suplex onto the top rope. Haunt's back stuck into the barbwire ropes. Angel rolled off, but Haunt stayed on, pinned by his flesh to the metal prongs. Angel took this advantage now, and punched on Haunt's bad arm, driving the glass shards deeper into the skin. Haunt was a mass of red and black, now. Gloating, Angel grabbed Haunt by the face and RIPPED him off of the ropes. Tatters of Haunt's costume and bits of skin remained. Haunt hit the ground. Angel rolled him over and went for the pin.

The south referee began his count.

1...

2...Kickout by Haunt. Ever the masochist, Haunt grabbed Angel by the hair and used the glass in his own arm to rake across Angel's eyes. Angel reared back. Haunt staggered to his feet, and took the distracted Archangel by the arm, and Irish Whipped him into the ropes. Angel hit, and was snagged by the wire, but his momentum sent him flying back. His back burst open with blood, but Haunt was on the offensive, as he ran in and grabbed Angel's head in mid-jump, using an otherworldly strength to twist both of them around, into a tilt-a-whirl neckbreaker! The Rendering!

Both men lay on the ground. The 21w ring was quickly becoming saturated with red blood. Angel was laying on his back, showing no signs of life. Haunt, on his stomach, on the other hand, raised a hand, and draped it over Angel's chest.

The west referee made his count.

1!...Archangel threw Haunt's arm off and slowly rolled to his side. Haunt pushed himself up with shaking arms. Looking down at his feet, Angel saw Haunt close to him and mule-kicked him right in the gut. Haunt skitted back a bit and came an inch away from catching the barbwire rope again. Angel stood up, struggling to keep his footing. He whipped his hair out of his face and stalked forward. He grabbed Haunt by the throat, and threw him into the corner. Haunt slammed into the mesh barbwire turnbuckles. His teeth gritted. They were stained with blood. Archangel took a few paces back and charged forward with a shout. He leapt into the air, but Haunt pulled himself out of the way just in time. Angel collided with full impact into the barbwire trappings. He bounced off of them and landed on the ground like a slingshot. His chest was sliced open very badly now from the mistake. Haunt grabbed Angel by the foot and dragged him to the middle of the ring. Then he grabbed both legs and hooked his arms under the knees, and fell backwards. Angel was hoisted off the ground, and sent flying once again into the corner, on the opposite side. The unforgiving prongs cut into his face again. He was bleeding profusely from the tear across his nose.

Haunt charged forward and delivered several palm strikes to Angel's chest and throat. Angel backed up a few steps, then retaliated with several hammerblows with his giant fists. Archangel reaches his hand back for one final swing, but Haunt ducks under it, slipping behind him, and jumps up and dropkicks his back. Angel flies forward and lands his chest on the middle barbwire rope. Haunt immediately pulls Angel's arms up and ties him into the ropes. He was a sitting duck.

Haunt rolled outside and pushed someone out of their chair. He tucked it under his arm and slid into the ring. He held the chair in his hands like it was a 2-ton weight. Lifting it high over his head, he brought it crashing down upon Angel's back.

WHAM!

And again!

WHAM!

AND AGAIN! CRACK!!

The chair was broken, as was Angel, it appeared. Haunt rolled to the outside, and looked at Angel's face. There were still a few signs of consciousness. So, Haunt turned around, chair in hand, and whipped around 180 degrees, sending the plate of the metal chair directly to connect right between Archangel's eyes. His nose was undoubtedly broken now. Haunt wasn't through. He whipped it again, denting the chair horribly. The crowd began to chant 'Holy Shit! Holy Shit!' Haunt looked up at them and grinned, as he rolled back into the ring. He grabbed Archangel by the feet and pulled him out of his entanglements. The skin on Angels' arms ripped as he was tugged out of the barbwire. Haunt fell backwards, and crawled forward, rolling Angel to his back. The north referee made his count now.

1...

2...

3!!!...

Haunt wins!! But from the looks of it, both men are defeated.

The bell sounded, signalling the end of the match. Both men had to be carried out of the ring. Their faces and bodies were awash in their own, and each other's, blood. How could either of them possibly have enough fight in them for the last match?

We go to the warehouse nearby the arena, where we found Marc Baiden walking down some sort of hallway. Wearing a shirt with the phrase “I kill goats for Satan” scratched across the front over his white wrestling attire, his overall outer appearance is confident. As he came to a door that reads “The Bullies”, he shoved it open, before entering.

Inside, he found Seth Kard sitting on the floor, legs crossed, with his hands in a meditation position. Soft, relaxation music could be heard playing as Baiden just stopped to stare at Seth, who was yet to realise that he has company - either that or he was in such a state of relaxation he wasn’t even aware of Baiden’s presence.

“What in the fuck are you doing, Seth?” Marc asked in his customary New York burr.

Seth didn’t open an eye, “I am meditating. Do you mind?”

Marc raised his eyebrows after hearing Seth’s perfect enunciation, something Seth has never in his life been famous for, “meditating? Since when do you meditate, Seth?”

Kard didn’t move, “since now. It is quite relaxing - you should try it sometime, Marcus.”

Zuh?

“Christ, Seth, I thought your idea of meditation was sucking down a brusin’ berry slurpee while watching Sportscenter on ESPN - now come on, get your ass up, we don’t have time for this sort of new-age shit,” Marc stepped towards Seth and slapped him over the head.

Seth immediately snapped out of his trance, “GAH!! What the fuck was that for ya little bitch?”

Baiden smiled, “Welcome back.”

“Oh, Marc, I was in such a wonderful place, with fire, and these little red guys putting pitchforks in my butt,” Seth states enthusiastically.

“Seth, I believe that’s a line from a Simpsons episode.”

Kard scratched his head while getting to his feet, “it is? Hrm, maybe I television too much television.”

Marc shook his head, almost embarrassed to be seen with Kard, “yeah, maybe you do ‘television too much television’, but that’s beyond the point. Because, you see, tonight is possibly the most important night in our tag team career. Tonight we have the Pride Double Ladder Match, and winning this isn’t going to be easy, but if we keep our minds on the match - actually, scratch that - if YOU keep your mind on the match, I’m sure we’ll be fine. Do you think you can handle it?”

“Hey Marc, do you think they actually eat those Earth bars on Mars? I mean, that’s pretty far out if you ask me,” Seth asked genuinely.

Baiden couldn’t respond. The scientific theory is that every action as an equal and opposite reaction - could that be the same for Seth Kard? After hearing Seth speak as though he were well educated, we’re now hearing complete and utter stupidity. “Please tell me you didn’t just say that, Seth.”

“Okay… I didn’t say that,” Seth said, thinking it’s the right thing to do.

Marc Baiden then bit his lip, before he turned to leave the locker room without saying a word.

“Hey, are you going to Subway? If so, you think you could pick me up something? Oh wait, do they even have Subway here in Manchester? Hrm. Actually, maybe you should pick me up some English muffins or crumpets or something - hell, I’m a believer in eating food from all different countries!”

It was going to be a very, very long night for the 21w Tag Team Champions.

As the fans in the arena anxiously awaited the next match, the transmission of the superscreen filled with static, and then suddenly cut into a shot of the now-famous Bullies / Pain and Suffering warehouse. As the camera panned around, a shot of excited and hyper fans, all standing behind guardrails filled the big screen. In the middle of the warehouse, an Asylum-style fighting cage connected to a 21w-style wrestling ring were set-up adjacent to each other and a huge wooden ramp led down to the cage / ring area.

The fans knew it… everyone knew it. They were about to witness the coup de grace of tag team fighting AND tag team wrestling combined, and it was about to unfold before the eyes of a very anxious and lucky audience.

Random employees had been working diligently around the clock to create the set-up for this unique match - the final match in the best of five series between 21w Tag Team Champions, Marc Baiden and Seth Kard, and Asylum Tag Team Champions, Drake Kerrigan and Clayton Richler.

The ring connected itself to the cage, and it was accessible via the opened door of the cage. The reason for this unique set-up? Before, there were many disputes between The Bullies and Pain and Suffering concerning unfair match stipulations, but now all was perfect. This ingenious set-up would allow both teams to demonstrate their preferred styles - fighting AND wrestling would be the stipulations for this revolutionary match.

A ladder stood in the centre of both the ring and the cage. The 21w Tag Team Championships hung on a long wire directly above the ring’s ladder, and the Asylum’s Tag Team Championships hung directly above the cage’s ladder. The unique ambience of the whole place filled the arena with utter anticipation of who would grab their own titles first and go home with the glory - the pride.

The rules stated that the first team to haul down their own tag team titles from the wire would be declared the winners of this double ladder match, but it sure wasn’t going to be an easy task for either side.

Clayton Richler and Drake Kerrigan stepped out to the tune of “Fuck The Police” by Dope, but they definitely knew that this time simply wasn't the same as every other time that they stepped for a match. This match was the pinnacle of their careers. Drake and Clayton received a neutral ovation from the crowd and made their way into the ring.

Even though both teams knew that they would finally get back their stolen titles whether they won or lost, everything was still on the line...

The familiar phrase from the theme of Seth Kard, “I Hope You Die” acted as an introduction to the traditional theme of Marc Baiden, “Born of Desire” by Mushroomhead. Marc Baiden and Seth Kard then stepped out onto the ramp. Pride had never been much of an issue with The Bullies - they raided the Asylum with full confidence and have now pushed the team of Drake Kerrigan and Clayton Richler to their limit - the fifth match in a best of five series. Seth slid into the ring and Marc entered from the ramp. They then ducked under the ropes and entered the cage from the open door.

P&S stood near the ladder in the ring, and The Bullies stood near the ladder in the cage. All four men glared at each other through the mesh of the cage, ready and willing to tear each other apart to gain what they wanted - the victory in this best-of-5, which would warrant unconditional pride and bragging rights for a long time to come.

The bell tolled, signifying the beginning of the ‘final fight’. Like two rival predators, Marc Baiden and Drake Kerrigan slowly began to approach each other from their opposite sides. Seth Kard and Clayton Richler simply stayed back to guard their respective posts.

Drake then made a sprint through the open cage door and tried to quickly enter the cage, but Marc Baiden easily interrupted Drake's attempt by assaulting him with an array of forearm-bashes. Marc then quickly hauled Drake out through the ropes and smashes him into the cage as the fans went wild. Marc then hoisted Drake up onto his shoulder and executed a running bulldog. Drake bounced off the mat and Seth and Marc both took advantage and started kicking him.

Clayton couldn't simply stand around and guard the 21w tag team titles anymore. He ran out of the ring and quickly made his way into the cage. He ran over and grabbed Seth from behind, turning him around and bashing him in his chin with a powerful right hook. Marc then spun around and swung at Clayton, trying to smack his head, but Clayton ducked the attempt and executed a fireman's carry on Marc.

Clayton's rescue was hardly long enough to allow him to climb up the ladder and grab the Asylum tag team titles, and he knew that as he quickly glanced up at them. Clayton shouldn't have even paused to look up though, because he was caught off guard by Seth and nailed in the groin with a low blow. Clayton grabbed his groin in pain and Seth suddenly stood up and nailed Clayton with down a spinning heel kick.

Drake then stood back up at the same time as Marc and he quickly noticed his two-on-one handicap. Drake then made a run for it and managed to escape through the cage door and ran into the ring. Seth was the first to follow him, and so Drake managed to grab him by his head and execute a wheelbarrow suplex.

Marc Baiden immediately followed Seth and Drake was quick enough for him. Marc grappled with Drake. Drake tried to Irish whip Marc into the ropes but Marc reversed it and as Drake came running off of the ropes, Marc connected with his leaping punch to the brow - “Baiden's Plight”!

Drake dropped to the mat like a bag of bricks and Marc immediately saw his opening. He glanced up at the 21w tag team titles dangling above his head and stepped onto the ladder.

He made his way about halfway before Clayton suddenly came barrelling in from the cage and crashed into the ladder. Marc, clutching the ladder, plummeted to the mat and hit it with a bang. The fans went wild and Clayton turned around to face Seth. Seth ran at him and went for a super kick, but Clayton dodged it and grabbed Seth, executing a textbook T-bone suplex.

“ARRGGH!!!” Marc screamed at the top of his lungs as he clutched his knee - he had fallen directly on it from his ladder-fall. Clayton looked over at the injured Marc Baiden, a smile engulfing his face. Clayton slowly walked over to Marc and grabbed him by his hair, hauling him up. Clayton grabbed Marc from behind, going for a suplex, but Marc locked the attempt and reversed it into a release German suplex of his own. Clayton nailed the mat, head first.

Drake finally got back up to his feet from the vicious punch that Marc gave him earlier. Marc was assisting Seth back up to his feet when Drake charged at The Bullies, going for a double-clothesline. Both Bullies saw it coming and ducked Drake's charge. Marc ducked the attempt and managed to gorilla press Drake up into the air, and as Drake fell back down to the mat, the acrobatic Seth caught him in mid-air with a 3/4 turn neckbreaker…

TWO MAN HEAVEN TORN ASUNDER~!!

Drake rolled to the side, and as Clayton slowly staggered back to his feet, he looked ahead to see Marc and Seth, getting ready to move in for the kill. Seth ran at Clayton and went for a spinning heel kick, but Clayton ducked it and Seth fell onto the mat hard, back-first. Clayton then ran at Marc and grappled with him. Marc overpowered Clayton and shoved him into the turnbuckle.

Marc hammered a series of knee lifts into Clayton's abdomen and then perched him up onto the turnbuckle. Marc scaled the turnbuckle and grabbed Clayton around his shoulders, going for what appeared to be a superplex, but Clayton managed to grab a hold of the rope, sending Marc crashing down back-first onto the mat. Clayton then stood up on the turnbuckle and raised his fist in the air.

“DESPONDENCY~!!” he yelled, signalling his finishing manoeuvre.

Clayton then catapulted himself off of the top turnbuckle, nailing a corkscrew moonsault splash directly on his fallen adversary, Marc Baiden!

In the far corner of the ring, Seth Kard and Drake Kerrigan were back on their feet and grappling with each other. Clearly the more powerful, Drake shoved Seth into the ropes, but was outsmarted when he ran to hit Seth but Seth ducked and Drake smashed into the meshing of the cage, directly behind the ropes.

Meanwhile, Clayton had entered the cage all alone and immediately started to climb up the ladder, but just before he could grab his tA tag team titles and officially end the gruelling best-of-five series, the speedy Seth Kard came running into the cage and knocked the ladder over, sending Clayton down with it. Clayton nearly crushed his balls by falling onto the edge of the cage on his way down, but he managed to close his feet so his legs took most of the impact.

After the fall, Seth tried to make his way to his feet but he was clearly too beat out, and rested on the mat of the cage for a few moments... Clayton also lay there next to Seth, completely motionless.

In the ring next to the cage, Drake and Marc battled it out. Drake wasn't about to let Marc set that ladder up again and grab the 21w Tag Team Championships without one hell of a fight. Drake, clearly showing fatigue, went for a rather slow clothesline, which Marc ducked, kicked Drake in his gut and set him up in a powerbomb position.

Marc, showing all of his possible might, managed to lift the 330-pound Drake Kerrigan up into a powerbomb position. Marc ran into the turnbuckle, jammed Drake's head into it and then pivoted around again. Marc then ran across the ring with Drake still in the powerbomb position and as Drake's head fell down, Marc suddenly grabbed it and nailed a facebuster - his “Fated Circle” signature move!

Marc, completely confident that he finally had the match won ran over to the ladder and set it back up, directly above the hanging 21w tag team titles. Marc then scaled the ladder… slowly… gradually reaching the top.

The fans knew that it was all over. The match, the series, and the rivalry - it had finally ended in favour of The Bullies from 21st Century Wrestling.

Until…

Just as Marc was about to reach the top of the ladder, it began to sway. He looked down, surprised as hell to see Drake Kerrigan, with his arm stretched out, grabbing one leg of the ladder and shaking it. With one mighty tug, Drake managed to haul the ladder down just in time. Marc collapsed to the mat once again and the fans let out a burst of emotion, some disappointed, some excited.

The obvious animosity between the two teams created a wave of tension that undulated over the fans in the audience. Various objects thrown by impatient fans found their way sailing into the ring and the cage as the four fatigued men lay there on their backs, trying to muster up enough energy to continue on. Drake and Marc were lying in the ring; Clayton and Seth were lying in the cage; everyone utterly wasted.

Back in the cage, the first one to show signs of movement was Seth Kard. He finally sprawled to his feet and walked over to Clayton, picking him up by his ponytailed black hair. Seth set Clayton up into a DDT position, but Clayton countered by jabbing him in his waist and executing a leg lever takedown. Clayton then dropped an elbow across Seth's forehead and quickly scrambled to his feet, running over to the turnbuckle. Clayton pounced on top of the top turnbuckle and then launched himself off, nailing Seth with a guillotine legdrop.

Wasting no time, Clayton then grabbed the ladder and started to align it up directly underneath the Asylum tag team titles, dangling from the ceiling.

In the ring, Drake was the first to rise to his feet, as Marc was crouched over in the corner, grabbing his injured knee in pain. Drake stomped on Marc's knee, causing Marc to scream out in pain. Drake then hauled Marc up to the canvas, kneed him in his gut and set him up in a powerbomb position. Drake hauled Marc up, but Marc leaned his weight forward and managed to break free from Drake's grasp.

Drake then turned around, only to see Marc's eyes, full of determination, extending his leg. Drake felt Marc kick his abdomen, and then Marc grabbing him around his head.

DEEP IMPACT DDT~!!

Marc sprawled to his feet and looked over at the cage. He saw Clayton, now making his way up the ladder. Marc then turned around and grabbed his ladder. He quickly set it up underneath the 21w tag team titles and began to ascend it.

The fans watched on as Clayton Richler of Pain & Suffering and Marc Baiden of The Bullies ascended their respective ladders, both inches away from attaining their pride… their glory.

Clayton clamped his hand around the dangling tA title straps just shortly before Marc did the same thing with the dangling 21w title straps. Both men began hauling on their titles, trying to pry them down from the wire. Then, in a move of desperation, Clayton jumped from his ladder and hauled down on the titles… at the very time Marc Baiden did the same thing.

The two men hit their respective mats with a thud. It was over… but who hit the mat first?

A silence fell over the crowd as they looked on in awe of the spectacle that they had just witnessed. Then, they erupted into a crazed outburst. Who had won? They weren't sure. The referee on the outside of the cage was debating the matter with the ring announcer.

The referee stepped away from the announcer and slapped his hands on his sides, not able to believe tha match he just officiated. The ring announcer grabbed his microphone, and then, the verdict.

“After reviewing the footage, and by a dismal matter of time, the referee has decided that the foot of… Clayton Richler made contact with the mat just before Marc Baiden's did.” The crowd - some joyous and others dejected, once again went into an uproar over this statement. “Therefore,” the announcer continued over the yelling, “the winners of the Pride Double Ladder Match, taking out the best of five series three to two - the Asylum's Tag Team Champions, Clayton Richler and Drake Kerrigan - Pain and Suffering!!”

Some of the loyal Bullies fans in the warehouse still refused to accept the decision, even after the official announcement. Cups, cans and bottles found their way flying over the four motionless combatants in the cage and the ring. It had been an epic battle between the best of the wrestling and the fighting world of tag team wrestling - unfortunately, not without its controversy but definitely with its memorable moments.

The camera zoomed in on Clayton Richler, clutching both the Asylum Tag Team Champions in his arms. He still couldn’t move, but you could see in his eyes that he was ecstatic. Drake then appeared out of nowhere to pounce on the wasted Clayton Richler, screaming things such as “We did it!!” as he went. Clayton sat up, and handed his partner one of the Asylum Tag Team Championships, both men still sweating and breathing in and out heavily, but overjoyed none the less.

Seth Kard staggered to his feet, taking in all about him. He heard the announcement, but wasn’t in the right state of mind to make anything of it. He looked from the hysteric team of Pain and Suffering into the wrestling ring to find his partner Marc Baiden unable to move, and a beaten man. Seth jumped into the ring and knelt down beside Marc, desperately hoping that his partner was holding the belts because he got them down from above the ladder first.

The camera zoomed in on the Bullies to see Marc speaking to Seth. “We lost, man,” Marc mouthed to Seth, and you could see Kard’s heart sink. He didn’t really do anything - he just stared out to the crowd with a blank look on his face. But all that changed suddenly as Seth heard two sets of footsteps enter the ring - Pain and Suffering.

Seth shot to his feet and motioned for Kerrigan and Richler to back off, but they didn’t budge. Instead, Clayton Richler extended his hand, taking Seth and the people huddled around the cage / ring by surprise, not to mention the tens of thousands watching on back in the arena.

These two teams gave it their utmost all over the past two months, trying desperately to prove who the better team was. Harsh words were exchanged, but now this?

Seth looked down at Baiden, asking him what he should do through the look in his eyes…

then it happened. Kard and Richler actually shook hands. The people in the warehouse were in shock! Drake Kerrigan then stepped towards Baiden, pulled him to his feet and shook his hand! Neither team seemed reluctant to shake - the whole event seemed to be a genuine show of respect.

Kerrigan and Richler slowly backed away, nodding their heads in acceptance as they went, before they turned to leave the ring and head up the ramp. Baiden looked to Seth, who was just staring in disbelief, and although they lost one of the most prestigious matches in both of their careers, they both felt like winners nonetheless.

Here to Stay" by Korn.

But was he really? As Daijah Mader made his way out onto the aisle in front of a packed out City of Manchester stadium, he brought with him questions and concerns.

Over the past couple of months, he'd been tormented by a force which didn't seem to be restrainable, .desolate couldn't be stopped... .desolate wouldn't be stopped, he was playing games with Daijah Mader, and he was loving it.

Something within Daijah had snapped, but not in a good way... this wasn't a violent snap, it wasn't a snap that would drive him on to a rage driven victory, this was a snap somewhere deeper in the mind, a snap which was sending Daijah Mader over the edge... all he was doing now, was hanging onto that edge for as long as he could.

Until he appeared again.

"Not a Hit" by Margaret Heater.

Another mind game.

Daijah hadn't even reached the ring... he'd arrived at a part of the Immortals set designed specifically for making the pyrotechnics look that much more spectacular... a set of several mirrors, as .desolate's music hit the speakers, the lights strobed on and off, black and white... mirrors reflecting... reflecting, Daijah looked around frantically, a sneak attack was coming from somewhere... he could feel it in the air.

Suddenly, he saw him.

.desolate

Standing before him, no emotion in his eyes... he just stood, still like a wild cat waiting to pounce un unsuspecting prey... but Daijah wasn't going to let that happen.

SMMMMMMMMMMASH!

Daijah rushed at .desolate... he threw a wild punch into his face... but watched in dismay as the face simply cracked, before shattering into thousands of pieces.

For normal people, this would've been a simple mistake... but for a man on the edge, it meant more.

"You think I can't break you .desolate... I'll break you!" Daijah screamed frantically... there were now several .desolate's standing around him... or so it appeared, the mirrors playing tricks on the mind.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Daijah screamed, now rushing back and forth, every punch shattering another vision of the monster, shatter... shatter... shatter.

SMACK.

Daijah's eyes widened...

This .desolate didn't shatter, it didn't even flinch... it remained motionless and still... black eyes focused on him.

SMACK!

Retaliation, the lights in the arena came up as the real .desolate lashed into Daijah with unforgiving punches... he finally took him by the hair, and whipped him wickedly into...

And through one of the huge mirrors... Daijah fell to the ground amongst the shattered glass, tiny wounds and lacerations opening up about his face, .desolate had not finished however... he took a handful of Daijah's hair and ground his face mercilessly into the broken glass... Daijah roared out in agony... desperately throwing punches up into the face of his adversary... but they only served to knock .desolate back a few paces... Daijah got to his feet... picking up a jagged shard of glass as he did.

"Stay back you fucker... or I'll cut you." Daijah snarled... holding the glass up in front of .desolate.

"You cannot cut, what does not bleed." .desolate sneered, rushing at Daijah... who swiped at him several times with the glass, he did bleed... but he didn't acknowledge it... as the glass sliced across his wrists, finally... Daijah dropped the glass and leapt onto .desolate's back... locking in a desperate choke, .desolate made escape a simple procedure however... taking a few steps backward and without any regard for his own health, throwing himself through another one of the mirrors with Daijah still clinging to his back.

Daijah's body went limp as .desolate brushed the shattered glass from his body... he wasn't finished with Daijah however... he pulled him up by his hair, which was heavily matted with blood... and whipped him spine first into the steel supports holding up the video wall, which shook upon impact.

.desolate closed in once again as Daijah slumped down against the support, he pulled up Daijah by the hair once more and sent several hard jabs into the open wounds on his face... the blood pumped even more, as he turned Daijah away from him... lifted him up... and jammed his feet between the steel structure.

A few steps back... and Daijah's head was hooked... .desolate leapt back, dragging Daijah away from the steel support and dropping him sickeningly onto the shattered glass with the "Graceless Descent".

At this time, it Daijah was ready to have a fork stuck in him... because he was done.

But .desolate?

.desolate had but another contribution to make.

The 21w crowd were silent now, the brutal onslaught on a mentally ill man had gone on for far too long, but the tA fans continued to cheer for blood, for violence... for more.

.desolate obliged.

He dragged up a completely limp Daijah Mader and dragged him through the glass by the hair... reaching the side of the aisleway... his twisted plan only came to frutition as the crowd suddenly started to bolt in all directions, realising what he was about to do.

He threw Daijah Mader off the ramp.

But not only did he throw him from the ramp... he threw him with a clear intent... Daijah's broken body flew 10 feet through the air... and came down in what could only be described as a sickening fashion... hitting the Asylum rim ribs first before dropping into the Asylum itself.

The official didn't even need to make a 10 count, on grounds of fighter safety... he had to award it to .desolate anyway... "Not a Hit" played over the pa system once again... as .desolate calmly walked to the back in wake of the destruction he had caused... EMT's rushed down to the Asylum to tend to the motionless Mader.

While many had assumed that .desolate's path or rage was over... it was only just beginning.

And as Daijah Mader lay broken in the Asylum.

Maybe his path was only just beginning too.

The City of Manchester Stadium, an arena located inside the heart of the United Kingdom, was playing host to perhaps the greatest Pay Per View event of all time. Every single fan was going nuts for the action that unfolded before them. Whether booing or cheering the 'Heels' and 'Faces' of the Professional Wrestling industry that 21st Century Wrestling represented, or responding to the real actions of the roster of the Asylum's roster, Immortals was shaping up to easily be the greatest event that either promotion had ever produced.

But now, all the pre-booking of 21st Century Wrestling's matches was thrown out of the door, as a feud that grew over the last two months reached boiling point. Two men were to enter a bout for the second most prestigious title that the Asylum had to offer, but much more to either of them was the fact that whoever won the contest would also gain respect from his opponent. It was not a match that either man could afford to lose, or he would be doomed to humiliation by the victor, and probably the rest of the backstage.

"Nothing breeds more contempt for this world than the memories now formed"

The fans immediately recognized the first line of the entrance theme that blared over the PA system, which signaled the arrival of the challenger to the Television championship, a man that once before held an Asylum championship for a record breaking four months, and now intended to retaliate fully for the actions of his most hated arch-nemesis.

Hans Krueger

Hans lit a cigarette as the fans jeered, and Prong's "Snap your fingers, snap your neck" echoed, perhaps foreshadowing what Hans intended to do to the Television champion, Providence. Hans inhaled the cancerous fumes calmly as he headed down the rampway, his eyes focused on the Asylum cage that was before him. Hans walked into the cage, and turned around, staring at the top of the rampway.

"My shadow's Shedding skin and I've been picking Scabs again."

The fans translated their pure hate of Hans Krueger towards the top of the rampway as his opponent, a former Asylum Extreme champion, enforcer for Hans' boss, Joe Campbell, and now the Asylum Television champion. This man had managed to garner the deep respect of the fans after a month of being on 'the right side'.

Providence

Providence walked down the rampway, the four small silver circles, as well as the central 'T.V.' circle glistening in the arena light around Providence's waist. Hans stood in the Asylum calmly, puffing his cigarette as Providence walked in, and stared a hole through Hans.

"The following contest is scheduled for knock out, submission, ringout or opponent being unable to continue…IN AN ASYLUM RULES MATCH!" shouted the Ring Announcer through his microphone. Hans and Providence continued to stare at each other as the fans popped at the mention of the regulation Asylum rules match that was about to occur.

"Introducing first, the challenger, hailing in from Dresden, Germany…" trailed off the ring announcer, as the fans jeered and pelted the Asylum ring with some garbage, as Hans shrugged it off. "He is a former hold of the Asylum Tag Team championship. He is…HANS KRUEGER!"

"And in this corner…" motioned the Ring Announcer to Providence for a cheap pop. "He is a former Asylum Extreme champion, and the current Asylum Television Champion…" trailed off the Ring Announcer again, as Providence unstrapped the title from around his waist, and handed it to the referee. "He is…PROVIDENCE!"

"The contest will be for the Asylum Television championship!" said the Ring Announcer, who quickly exited the Asylum as the referee displayed the belt to both the challenger and champion, and then passed it outside, before he signaled for the bell. Providence curiously stepped up towards Hans and smiled, hiding the rage that brewed within him for what Hans had done to him and Nerva recently.

"I know my destiny. Do you know yours?"

Hans stared at Providence calmly for a second, before he responded simply with:

"Ja."

Instantaneously, Hans took out his cigarette, and flicked it at Providence's face, grazing his cheek. Providence felt the side, and stared as his finger was red with first blood. Providence sneered, and extended his arms, encouraging Hans to go into a test of strength, an old wrestling maneuver that often led to a betrayal by the instigator.

Hans locked his hands onto Providences, but quickly sweeped the legs under Providence. Hans quickly armdragged Providence to the concrete, and put on a standard headlock.

Providence quickly responded with a snap mare into a spinal tap. Providence then sat down, and locked Hans into a Fujiwara armbar. Hans snarled as Providence, and using his available arm, he managed to roll over to Providence.

"You like to play rough, eh?" spat Hans, as he rammed his free hand into Providence's mouth, locking on a Mandible Claw submission hold. Hans tightened his hold as Providence began to bite down on his hand, and drew some blood. Providence released the Fujiwara armbar as Hans punched Providence in the gut, allowing him to get his hand out of Providence's mouth. Providence spat out the blood as Hans merely laughed.

"You may be ze Television champion, but I broke ze necks of bastards like you back in ze alleys of Dresden…" trailed off Hans, as he licked some of the blood off his finger. He circled around Providence, as Providence stared back at him, and circled him in return. The two men tried to see who would strike first.

Hans swung a fist at Providence, but Providence quickly side-stepped out of the way. Hans leg sweeped at Providence's feet, but Providence jumped off the ground. Before Hans could get back on the defensive, however, Providence rammed his leg behind Hans' kneecap as the fans cheered him on. Hans quickly responded with a kick to Providence's ankle, and then attempted a Crescent kick, but Providence ducked out of the way.

Providence finally managed to sweep Hans' legs off the ground with a hand sweep, and hovered over him for a second, before he decided to slap on an STF. The fans cheered as Providence locked on the submission hold, and wretched back on it. Hans snarled as Providence pulled back on the hold even more, and tried to wriggle himself free.

The blood on Hans' fingers trickled down, making his hand very slippery, and eventually Hans managed to slip out of the STF hold using his bloodied hand, and rammed his fist into Providence's jaw. Providence released the hold, and grabbed his jaw as the pain surged through his mouth.

"Nice shot…" replied Providence, apparently not effected by the blow mentally, though the blood trickled down from his mouth slowly. Hans smiled, and nodded back at Providence.

"Danke…"

Before Providence could react, Hans hit him with a stiff kick to the face, and waited as the referee began the knock out count, seeing Providence lying prone on the concrete floor of the Asylum.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

"Fo-"

Before the referee could say 'Four!', Providence already began to get up slowly, his nose now bloodied. Hans shook his head, and quickly followed up with a kick to Providence's gut.

While Providence keeled over, Hans went around him, and locked on the Kata-hajime submission hold, attempting to strangle the champion into submission. After several seconds of struggling, Providence went limp, and the referee checked to see if he was indeed out.

The referee raised Providence's arm once, and it fell down.

The referee raised it up once more, and it fell.

However, the third time around, the arm remained up. Providence elbowed Hans several times in the gut, forcing him to relinquish the submission hold. Providence quickly lifted up Hans, and put his head under his arm. Providence then lifted Hans into the air, before he hit a nasty Brainbuster onto the concrete surface, intending to knock out Hans for good.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

"Four!"

"Five!"

"Six!"

"Seven!"

Hans began to stir after the seven, and the fans began to groan and boo the Dresden Powerhouse. However, Providence saw that Hans after had busted his head open as a result of the move, perhaps even cracking his skull. Providence, annoyed that his maneuver didn't take Hans out, kicked him in the gut, and put his head between his legs. Providence flipped him into the air, but then completed a hotshot onto the top of the Asylum wall.

The Schism.

The referee once again counted to see if Hans was out of it.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

"Four!"

"Five!"

"Six!"

"Seven!"

"Eight!"

"Ni-"

Before the nine count was reached, Hans began to get up, his face now a crimson mask from the beating he was receiving at the hands of Providence. Providence, determined to get revenge for the actions of Hans over the last few months, set up Hans for The Fall. However, Hans shifted his weight, and managed to reverse the maneuver into a head first DDT onto the concrete. The fans booed as Hans and Providence were both down, and the referee began to count both men out.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

Hans managed to get up first, and started to stand up, the blood still covering his body slowly, as though it was another layer of tissue.

"Four!"

"Five!"

"Six!"

"Seven!"

"Eight!"

Providence managed to get conscious enough to wake up at the eight count, and the fans breathed a sigh of relief. Hans, however, was not impressed, and measured Providence up before he delivered a painful looking Hook Kick as Providence ran towards him. Then, Hans sat down, and locked on a Fujiwara Armbar of his own. Hans wretched back on Providence's arm, intending to break it to cripple his offense.

*SNAP*

The sound of Providence's fingers being broken was heard around the arena as the fans stared in shock. Providence hollered in true pain, as Hans intended it to be. However, Providence refused to submit as eventually the referee pulled off Hans to check on Providence. Hans, in a fit of rage at the referee ordering him around, Roundhouse kicked the referee in the back of the head.

"Schmuck…" mumbled Hans as the fans booed. Hans turned away from Providence to flip off the fans, but that moment of weakness was enough for Providence. Providence jumped onto Hans, taking him down to the concrete.

*SNAP*

That was the sound of Hans' nose being broken by the impact of the fall.

Providence latched onto Hans, locking on his Finishing Manuever…

The Cleansing

The fans exploded into cheers as Providence locked on the Full Nelson, even though one of his arms was basically broken. Hans screamed in pain, and tapped out to the submission, but unfortunately, the referee was not awake to see it. Providence stared around to figure out why the bell didn't ring, and then noticed the referee was still out of it. Providence got off of Hans, and walked over to the referee.

As Providence turned around to face Hans, Hans was ready, and smiled.

"Good night…"

Before Providence could react, Hans hit the Dresden Powerhouse, his finishing kick to the back of the head, taking out the Television champion. Hans yelled at the referee, and the referee weakly began the ten count.

It HAD to be over.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

"Four!"

"Five!"

"Six!"

"Seven!"

"Eight!"

"Nine!"

"Te-"

Before the ten count was reached, Providence powered his shoulders and head off the concrete. Hans stared in shock as the fans popped.

"No, it can't be…" mumbled Hans, as he stared around. "I vill not let him defeat me…" stated Hans coldly, as he reached over the fencing and strained for a bag that lay next to the cage.

Hans lifted the bag up and pulled it into the ring. As he reached into the bag and grabbed something and tossed the bag to the side, the crowd gasped at what Hans held in his hand.

An axe.

The Nerva vs. Zoe fight was scheduled to be a “Licensed to Die” match, but the fans had not expected something like this in another bout. The official told Hans to put down the axe, but the angry German was not listening. Hans held the axe up high and grinned, his face reflected in the sharpened blade. As he turned around to use it, however, he realized that he had left Providence alone for too long, and the champion speared him to the ground before Hans could swing.

The two men grappled on the floor, each man reaching for the axe but being denied at the last moment by the other. Finally, Hans landed a vicious elbow to Providence’s temple that sent Providence’s head cracking back against the cage as well. With Providence down, Hans calmly walked over to the axe and picked it up, as the crowd booed loudly and yelled for Providence to get up and move. The official again told Hans not to use the axe and looked like he was about to end the match with Providence in danger.

But Providence would not be denied.

As Hans lifted the axe up to swing, Providence sprung to his feet and used his strength to block the swing. The two men grappled for the axe, but Providence landed two knees to Hans’ midsection to double him over and then cracked him in the jaw with the axe’s handle.

Hans fell back to the ground and leaned back against the fence in a daze. Providence hit him once more with the handle and stood over him.

“I told you that you would pay, Hans,” Providence said as he glared into his opponent’s eyes. “You’re going to pay for what you did to me, for what you’ve done to other people, and especially for what you did to Nerva...”

Providence raised the axe into the air, ignoring the words of the official.

“Do it. Be ze hero once again,” yelled Hans with blood running down his face. “You vill pay a price as vell, but I vill never fear you! Kill me!”

Seeing Providence ready to swing, the official called for the end of the match and awarded the contest to Providence. The official knew that a match could be called if any fighter were in a dangerous situation such as this, and he didn’t want this on his conscience. However, before he could call for security to step in, Providence swung down with the axe...

...and stopped inches from Hans’ face. Hans looked up at Providence with confusion, as he had expected his life to end. The official stood in place, not knowing what to do. Providence leaned down with his face close to Hans’ and looked at him with an icy glare.

“Remember this day, Hans. Remember it for the rest of your life,” he said softly. “Today could have been your final day alive. I was supposed to be your executioner for the crimes you committed. But not today, Hans. You’re just not worth it.”

As the words soaked into Hans, Providence stood back up straight and tossed the axe to the side. The official handed him the TV Title belt, and the official announcement came that he was the winner. Providence raised his arms into the air and started to walk off in victory.

However, Hans was not done.

With Providence’s back to him, Hans quickly got up and grabbed the axe and blasted Providence in the back with the steel head. Clearly, Hans was sending a message to Providence, and also making sure that he couldn’t interfere in Nerva’s match. Hans rained down blows with the axehandle on Providence before giving him one final blow with the hard steel. This time, it was Hans who leaned down to the fallen Providence.

“Yes, I vill remember zis day, Darren,” he said with a laugh. “I vill remember zis as ze day zat bitch of yours died. You may have vun zis battle, but you vill lose ze var.”

Hans laughed once more as he exited the cage and headed to the back, while the official checked on Providence.

Backstage, Providence held the back of his head and walked towards his and Nerva’s locker room with help from an EMT. His body was battered, bloodied, and glistened with sweat.

Nerva opened the door before he had the chance. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. Her match was next.

“Thank God you’re okay,” she said.

“I kept my promise to you, Nerva,” he said. “Now you have to keep your promise.”

“I will,” she said.

She kissed him once more. As she headed for the entrance deck, Providence held her back by the hand. He was breathing hard. The anxiety was building up inside of him. Nerva’s licensed to die match was next, and there would be no rules and no limits. He didn’t want to let her go.

But he had to, because this was what she wanted.

“I’ll be okay,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay. Just be here for me when I come back. I will. I promise.”

He let go of her hand and watched her take her steps to the entrance deck. She slipped on her fighting gloves and adjusted the thin straps on her high top. He felt his heart sinking. She was licensed to die, and Joe wouldn’t let him be out there with her.

The time had come for Nerva’s fight. Had not Providence defeated Hans Krueger, the match wouldn’t be happening. But Providence did beat Hans, and this match was happening. The days, weeks, and months were agony, but the payoff was tonight. Every punch from Joe, every slap from Zoe, everything could be healed. This was Nerva’s opportunity to make it all better and make it all right. She had to win back her freedom and her life. If she didn’t beat or kill Zoe, she would be owned forever or even worse, die in defeat. Death was in the air.

"She’s So High" by Blur rocked over the speakers. Zoe came out to cheers, both from the 21w and Asylum fans. She walked down the aisle, punching her taped fist into the palm of her other hand. She pumped a fist in the air and the Manchester crowd cheered even louder.

She was a hometown girl, and English fans were proud of their homegrown athletes. Except Zoe wasn’t an athlete. She was a conniving bitch that knew how to throw some vicious punches. She waited in the cage with her hands on her hips, head cocked to the right.

"Unified" by Biohazard.

The fans were dominated by boos.

But very few people knew Nerva’s story. She’d been through the Asylum’s dark side through and through. Nothing scared her anymore. Rape, death, backstabbing and beatings - that was life. Seeing that in the Asylum was everyday life. While it may scar some, it only made Nerva stronger. She walked through the curtains and looked around at the crowd. They were all on their seats because they knew someone could die in this match. Oh, the excitement of the Asylum.

Zoe made her life a living hell. When it was convenient, Zoe rode on Nerva’s coattails as her girlfriend. But when times got rough, when Nerva lost the Asylum Championship, it was oh-so convenient for Zoe to leave her for Joe Campbell.

Nerva made it to the steps. She walked up and swung the cage door open. Zoe stayed in place, not caring if Nerva entered or ran away. Nerva shut the door behind her and walked straight up to Zoe. Cameras flashed as the two women stood nose to nose. The fans were chanting Zoe’s name.

Zoe pushed Nerva. Nerva checked the distance between them and then decided to roundhouse kick Zoe in the face. The fans protested with boos and changed Zoe’s name more. Nerva smiled as Zoe touched the side of her face, and shook her red hair free from its ponytail. As Zoe brought her face back up, Nerva pointed to the "Property of Joe Campbell" tank top she was wearing, and then tore it down the center. Certain men howled when they saw that the bottom of Nerva’s breasts were popping out from her tight top. Zoe whipped the shirt down and took two wild swings at Nerva that missed. Nerva pulled her head back and then slammed it forward into Zoe’s nose.

Blood drew.

Not stopping, Nerva tackled Zoe to the ground and punched away while grabbing her by the hair. In no time, Zoe’s mouth was smeared with blood. The match started out good for Nerva, who went on to apply a figure-four arm bar. Zoe kicked and screamed for a while, but wouldn’t give it up this easy. She managed to head butt Nerva repeatedly in the face until she let go of the hold. A red scrape opened up under Nerva’s left eye. Zoe grabbed a handful of Nerva’s red hair and slammed it into the canvas over and over again. She stood up and kicked Nerva in the kidneys until Nerva rolled against the cage for support. She pulled Nerva up and slapped her across the face.

"Bitch."

The crowd roared in cheers. Nerva swung an elbow shot, but Zoe ducked under it and punched Nerva in the right kidney. Zoe then throttled both hands around Nerva’s neck and started pushing her out of the cage. Nerva tried prying the hands off, but Zoe’s grip was too strong. As oxygen was escaping her body at an alarming rate, Nerva dug both of her thumbs into Zoe’s eyes and raked them. Zoe was blinded momentarily, which left her open to a spin kick. After hitting the move, Nerva dropped to one knee and grabbed at her right kidney in pain. The move hurt her more than Zoe as Zoe took immediate advantage and booted Nerva in the kidney.

Zoe lifted Nerva up and dropped her ribs-first across her knee. She immediately applied an abdominal stretch, delivering shots to Nerva’s kidney at the same time. Before the ref could ask Nerva if she wanted to give up, Nerva grabbed Zoe’s hair and then bit at her ear. Zoe released the hold while palming Nerva’s face off her ear. She immediately slammed her knee into Nerva’s kidney, which gave her back the advantage. Nerva gasped for air as Zoe continued her relentless kicks to that weakened area. As Nerva got up to one knee, Zoe locked her in a front face lock and then drove her into the mat with a DDT. As the referee made the count, Zoe pointed over the cage rim and told the ring announcer to give her his chair. He folded it up and complied.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nerva saw Zoe with a chair and immediately swung her foot. Zoe dodged the shot and then smacked Nerva in the kidney with the chair. That sent Nerva to her knees, wailing from the pain in her beaten and broken kidney. She walked on her knees to the cage for support, but Zoe followed her and drove the end of the chair into Nerva’s kidney again. The ref asked Nerva if she wanted to give up, but Nerva shook her head over and over. Nerva slumped her arms over the cage rim as Zoe continued hitting the chair into her kidney. The smacks were echoing all over the Manchester Stadium. Nerva was helpless, but Zoe kept swinging and connecting with the same area.

The fans didn’t like what they were seeing. They stopped cheering Zoe and started cheering something else: "NER-VA! NER-VA! NER-VA!"

Nerva could hardly hear their chants with the pain in her lower back. She was paralyzed in that position as Zoe kept on ringing the shots into her kidney, not caring that her hometown crowd turned on her. Zoe licked another shot into Nerva’s head, nearly rendering her unconscious. Nerva had a problem, and she had to solve it fast. She had to work with constants - her against the cage wall - perpetual motion - Zoe’s chair shots - and outside variables - such as the axe that Hans had dropped after the previous match.

She made eye contact with the ring announcer. "Axe! Axe!"

He looked around and then scurried for the axe as Nerva started to scream from all the chair shots. The referee couldn’t do anything - Nerva wasn’t giving up, and legally she could die in this match. The ring announcer finally found the axe and put it in Nerva’s outstretched hand.

The axe possessed her. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so vulnerable anymore. She couldn’t feel the chair shots anymore. She turned around with the axe in hand and took a chair shot to the forehead. When Nerva didn’t budge, Zoe’s mouth stretched into an O.

As Nerva’s forehead exploded into four streams of blood, she lifted the axe and screamed a battle cry that made front row fans’ blood curdle. Zoe backed up defensively, now holding the chair as tight as possible. Nerva took a wild swing that Zoe ducked. She swung again and hit Zoe with the side of the face, but only the flat end of the axe hit her. As Zoe shook her face off, Nerva swung straight for the neck.

Zoe blocked it with the chair.

It was obvious: Nerva was trying to kill Zoe. Asylum fans loved every minute of it. They loved violence. They loved blood. They loved death.

"KILL! KILL! KILL!" they chanted.

Nerva kept swinging, Zoe either blocking or dodging the shots. Nerva didn’t just want her freedom back - she wanted revenge. It was human nature. To Nerva, the pain she endured was worth the life of the vindictive woman who put her through all of it. Zoe was on the verge of tears, but she was keeping her eyes wide open, trying not to get sliced by that deadly axe. She held the badly dented chair in front of her face, taking deep breaths at the same time.

Nerva snapped a roundhouse kick to Zoe’s quad and then swung with the axe for her neck, but Zoe ducked it. The axe drove into the cage rim instead, chopping through it easily.

Zoe thought this was the perfect opportunity. She swung upwards with her chair.

Zoe thought wrong.

Nerva dodged the shot, causing Zoe to spin around and lose her balance. She fell to the ground, and the chair was five feet away from her. The Asylum fans were chanting "KILL" at a climax level. Parents and their children were filing out of the arena. 21w fans were looking away. They didn’t want to leave - many their favorite wrestlers still had matches - but they couldn’t handle this. It wasn’t for the weak of heart, but it was today’s world and today’s reality.

With Zoe on the ground, Nerva swung downward like she was chopping wood. Zoe rolled away onto her stomach. Nerva kept chopping with the axe, but Zoe kept crawling away.

Nerva managed to kick Zoe in the ribs and turn her over. Zoe was on her back when Nerva swung, aiming for the heart. Zoe slid back, but it only reduced the probable damage. Nerva chopped the axe straight down into Zoe’s left thigh. It went deep. Zoe pressed her palms hard into the mat and whipped her neck back, screaming in pain. The "KILL!" chants turned into "DIE!" chants from the Asylum fans. Nerva wanted to finish the job. Only problem was, she couldn’t get the axe out of Zoe’s leg.

It was stuck in the bone. The axe’s blade tore right through the muscle and the tissue, resembling a caesarian section.

The ref dropped down. "Zoe, just say it and I’ll end it. Say it and I’ll end it!"

Zoe clenched her eyes shut and shook her head left and right.

Nerva dropped to her knees, blood dripping down her face. "Oh god, Zoe! Say it. Say it. Say it!! Give me back my life!"

Zoe shook her head and looked at Nerva. "No, Nerva. You can’t win. You can’t!"

"Oh yes I can! Oh yes I can win! Oh yes I can be free! Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! WATCH ME!!" Nerva grabbed a handful of Zoe’s hair and kept bashing her head into the mesh cage. "Watch me, you evil, sadistic, backstabbing slut! Watch me win! Watch me kill you to win! I’m winning, Zoe! I’m winning back my life and ending yours because you’re too selfish to say you give up!"

Nerva lifted Zoe up - the axe was still jammed in Zoe’s thighbone - and pushed her against the cage wall. Zoe wore crimson makeup. Nerva measured her up, bouncing lightly with a smooth rhythm. Moments later, the Double Touch sent Zoe to the ground. The referee began to count. Even though she had nothing left and could no longer fight, Zoe stood up. The fans began to cheer her courage. Nerva threw her fists up again, ready to knock Zoe out.

Enter: Joe Campbell with a gun in hand. "Stop it right there, Nerva. Stop it right there!"

He made his way down the aisle with a grin on his face. He entered the cage with the gun cocked at Nerva. Zoe leaned against the cage wall, barely holding herself up. Nerva dropped her fists and looked at Joe. She took a step forward, but stopped when Joe turned off the safety.

21w cameramen were instructed to turn off their cameras, which they did promptly. But the Asylum cameras were still on. They were always on.

"Wouldn’t want to mess with an English fucker armed with a gun," he said. "You have no idea what you’ve been signed to, Nerva. You licensed yourself to die tonight. That’s what the rules say. I wrote up the contract and I signed it for you. The moment you asked for your freedom back, you put your fate in the power of my pen. I can kill you and walk out of here an innocent man. And I will. Any last words?"

Nerva spat at him. "Fuck you, Joe Campbell. You don’t own me."

Joe laughed. "Oh, but I do. Fuck you too, Nerva."

A needle dropping could have been heard. The crowd was hushed as Joe’s finger tickled the trigger like a woman’s clitoris. His smile confirmed that he was going to pull the trigger.

"NO, JOE, NO!!" screamed Zoe. And at the same time…

BANG.

Zoe used the remaining strength in her good leg to spring forward as the gun went off. She got in front of Nerva and took the bullet in her stomach. She fell to the ground. Joe held the gun up to Nerva, but then held it back down at Zoe and fired three more bullets to her shoulder. Her arm now hung off it by a rope of flesh. Blood bubbled out from that wound, as well as from her stomach and leg.

"Fucking whore, fucking traitor!" said Joe.

Nerva dropped to her knees. "Zoe!"

Joe held the gun up and grinned. "You’ve probably got a minute of life left in you, Zoe. Why don’t you tell Nerva all about your bidding? Then I’ll kill her afterwards. She should die knowing it all."

Nerva held Zoe’s face in her hand as Zoe took Nerva’s other hand in hers. Zoe put her other hand over her bullet holes, but the blood juiced out between her fingers.

"Zoe, what is this? What are you doing? What the-"

"I love you, Nerva," said Zoe. "I always have. Oh god, Nerva, I never wanted to hurt you. After you lost the Championship, J-J-Joe said he didn’t need you anymore. He said he’d k-k-kill you if I didn’t have sex with him and do what he said. He made me turn on you. And he s-s-said he’d kill you if you won tonight."

Nerva began to cry, tears of sadness mixing with blood of violence.

Zoe was losing more and more blood. She screamed out loud, and then sobbed. "He hurt you everyday with your love for Laura. That’s what he does with love. He hurts people with their own love. It’s a weapon for him. And he’s killed me with my love for you."

Nerva pulled Zoe’s to her chest as Zoe’s eyes rolled back into her head. Her suffering was no more.

Joe pointed the gun at Nerva’s head. "Boo fucking hoo. There goes one. Now it’s your turn, cunt."

…

…

…

…

…

The barrel was empty. He had used all of his bullets. As Joe clicked the gun twice more, Nerva put Zoe’s body on the ground and stood up with Zoe’s blood dripping off her arms and stomach. Joe kept clicking the gun, screaming "shit" every time it wouldn’t fire. It was useless. He held the gun up and tried slamming Nerva with the butt end, but Nerva grabbed his wrist and squeezed until the gun fell out of his hand.

"I’m going to kill you, Joe Campbell," she said. "Even if the Asylum reigns over 21w tonight, you won’t get to see it. Because I’m going to kill you."

She kept squeezing, hearing a small bone break. Joe punched her in the face, pulled his arm free, and then smashed his elbow into her face. He tore the axe out of Zoe’s thigh and raised it over his head, but Nerva chambered her leg and thrust her foot out, heel pointing to heaven and toes pointing to hell. Her heel drove into his jaw, fracturing it for sure. Joe stumbled back and fell through the cage door, down the steps and onto the concrete floor.

Nerva knelt down and picked up the axe.

She didn’t need a legal license to kill Joe Campbell. After all the beatings, whippings, and mind fucking, revenge was more than a legal license.

The referee grabbed her around the waist, desperate to stop her. She knocked him with the butt end over and over again. During that time, Providence ran down, still in his tights from his previous match with Hans.

"No, Nerva!" Providence said, standing in front of Joe. "Don’t do more than necessary. Joe Campbell isn’t worth our freedom, damn it!"

Nerva got the referee off her and charged with the axe, but Providence locked her around the waist, picked her up and held her down in the middle of the cage. She had dropped the axe and went reaching for it, but Providence pulled her by the arm and hugged her close to her chest. He kissed her on the forehead and begged her to stay with him. She stopped struggling and cried against his chest.

"He deserves to die," she said under muffled sobs.

Providence stroked her hair and sat there on his knees, holding Nerva. "I know. But sometimes, you have to think about what you want the most. Thinking about us stopped me from driving that axe into Hans’s skull. Revenge is only sweet for the moment. We are forever."

Paramedics came down to the cage slowly with a body bag. They all wore white gloves. Nerva looked at Zoe’s bleeding corpse once more, and then buried her face back into Providence. The removal was quick. The infamous Boris Borst’s estranged wife was being zipped up and carried away.

Fans were silent.

But the show had to go on.

You make believe
That nothing is wrong until you’re crying
Crying on me
You make believe
That nothing is wrong until you’re dying
Dying on me
-- "Rearranged" by Limp Bizkit

Ricky hoped to whatever God there was that his father wouldn't come back. His eyes were beads of gray hopelessness, with a light burning inside as his body revved into an adrenaline rush.

He wasn't allowed to listen to rock music. Father would most definitely give some major damage to Ricky's head if he were to stumble in on him doing this.

The city's aflood, and our love turns to rust...

He was only using it to get himself pumped for the Iliad, anyway. He was on push-up 362, as a matter of fact. And each time this song played, over and over, Ricky felt more and more powerful. More and more treacherous to stand in front of.

He felt more free.

Free. Like a firefly in the middle of the night, free, like a slave crossing into Canada.

... Did he just compare his freedom to that of a nigger's?

He dropped it out of his mind -- as much as he could -- and concentrated on getting to 500.

We're beaten and blown by the wind... when I go there... I go there with you... it's all I can do...

Archangel Vs Mr. Haunt
Best of 3

Both men enter the cage, and start circling each other. Haunt turns his attention to something else, however. Reaching behind one of the poles that line the cage, he pulls out a pair of wire clippers that he took from the backstage ring technicians and starts to remove the barbedwire from the Asylum cage. At the same time, Angel is busying himself by pulling out the light tubes from the corners and starts stacking them into piles.

Haunt, finished with his task first, then takes the barbed wire and wraps it around his arm and forms a whip. He turns his attention now, back to his opponent. He then starts to lash Angel across the back. As Angel turns around Haunt levels him with a massive super kick to the Adam's apple. He gets on top of Angel and puts him in a modified Camel clutch using the barbedwire around his arm as a garrotte wire. Angel grabs at the barbwire around his neck. His breathing is shallow...he reaches out for anything...

Angel barely gets out by grabbing a light tube and crashing it across Haunt’s forehead. Haunt rears his head, shielding his eyes from the glass splinters. As Haunt turns from the spray of glass, Angel gets up grabs two light tubes and starts to play the drums on Haunt’s back

smashsmashsmashsmashsmashsmash!

until there is nothing but small nubs of tubes left. He tosses them aside.

Angel grabs up Haunt, trying to set him up with the half nelson waist lock. Haunt counters with a low blow. Angel bends at the waist trying to recover from the sneaky manoeuvre. Haunt goes behind him, lifts Angel up on his shoulders, walks over, and hits and flips Angel out into a powerbomb onto the very pile of light tubes that Angel had stacked. Angel, barely keeping conscious, manages to roll towards the cage and pull himself to his feet, until Haunt starts to take light tubes and shatter them on his back. Angel finally rolls back into the center of the ring. Angel takes a few kicks from Haunt, and without warning, and lands a lariat out of no where!

He lifts up Haunt and delivers a tiger power driver into the second massive pile of light tubes from earlier. Haunt crashes through. Luckily all of the broken glass and sharp objects broke his fall or else that could really have hurt.

With a growl, Angel lifts Haunt up so they start staring eye to eye. As if by instinct Angel and Haunt start trading punches like madmen. Each men was giving it his all. Each blow they landed took every ounce of strength that they had. Until it felt like there was nothing left to give.

Suddenly a high pitched scream turns into laughter. They both look at each other with unknowing expressions, then follow their gaze to the sound of the laughing. Without warning, a massive light tube log 40 thick flies down from the rafters, hitting both men and sending them over the railing and with a loud explosion, they both hit the barbedwire spider web below.

Within seconds, the camera pans from the broken, bloodied images of Haunt and Angel to the rafters where the spotlights reveal a cloaked figure. As soon as the camera’s focus, the person throws off the cloak to show.. Faith pulling out a microphone.

And in between laughs she screeches. “Sorry Jack, Chucky’s back!!" And continues to scream and laugh until she fades into the darkness disappearing from sight.

Several technicians rush out to unravel the two out of the barbwire spiderweb. Angel himself rolled right off and collapsed on the ground, and was taken away by the emergency medical staff.

Haunt wasn't so lucky.

Not only was he caught in it, but he had managed to hit the precise spot of the webbing that was electrified. His screams of pain was audible even in the nosebleed seats. The camera focused on him. His mouth was agape, shouting in agony. But something was all wrong.

The technicians were unable to turn off the electric field!

Haunt's eyes rolled back white, and he writhed and jolted, caught like a fly unable to escape. People watched in horror and disbelief as Haunt's very appearance began to alter. His skin looked like it was going into a state of death, turning itself lighter until it was almost a shade of ash. The blood caked on his skin made him look even more pale. The blacks of the irises spread out over the whites of his eyes. Sparks began to fly now, and the webbing exploded, and a hole was torn in the webbing. Haunt slipped through it, and fell to the ground. The crowd was silent as they watched the EMT's rush over to him, prepping him up and, for the first time, taking him away on a stretcher.

Thou shall honor thy mother and father.

It was a commandment, written in stone tablets for those generations after generations of followers would believe and take to heart.

Eye for an Eye.

It was the same believers who used this as an excuse, a scapegoat or loophole in their beloved bible to reap revenge on something done unholy to them.

Thou shall not kill.

When worst came to worst. Did not even God sacrifice?

“You’re not a man if you have it, you’re a man if you can use it.”

It was Manchester…

It was England…

And it was a sport they loved.

Tension and anticipation was more than in the air, it could be clenched in a fist and exploded through a scream from the crowd that was filled with love and hate. It was like a football game in the arena that night, the chants echoed in unison, rather it was the laughing at Mega Job or ‘take-off-your-tops-*clap*-*clap*-*clap*-*clap*’ they loved every second of it.

It was also the realness they loved, and if they only realized the war was only beginning would they cherish the moment ever so more, for they were the first…they were there to witness first.

The cage lowered as all eyes slowly went down with it. The areas all around the arena began to louden as it stopped halfway. It exploded with the first entrance song. “Adrenaline Rush” was a song known by all Asylum fans as they rose and cheered their warrior. Carnage stepped out from behind the stage and was bombarded with flashing cameras and a response he had never received before in his career.

His eyes glittered with excitement and an adrenaline rush flowed through him so powerful that he ran to the cage and paced back and forth wanting someone to unleash on. With cruel intentions only Biggs came to mind.

“Ambitions as a Ridah” played, rather blasting in every speaker in the arena it was muffled behind the cheers of the 21wrestling fans. As some, mostly Asylum fans booed, it was something that couldn’t be held behind the ovation he had received from the fans that adored him for his hard effort. The 6’9 329 monster stepped out and didn’t acknowledge them, not a raise of a fist nor a lukewarm smile yet it didn’t matter.

Nothing personal mattered right now to the fans, it was about 21w vs. tA and if they only realized what had happened behind cameras would they understand the bitter hatred between the two.

Biggs took his time as he walked towards the hunting grounds. Carnage was still pacing and froze as the two were not more then 20 feet apart, both eyes locked as the cage began to lower. Something was missing:

The knives.

Neither cared as they lunged towards each other, throwing fist that connected on both ends. They both staggered back but returned throwing another and another, and another until Carnage finally began to slip. With each blow the cheers rose and fell, Carnage jerked back trying to regain his stature but Biggs kicked him in the gut and threw him backwards into the dirt that flew into his eyes.

Carnage rubbed them repeatedly and quickly, trying to get whatever clear vision he could grasp however hard soccer kicks connected across his gut that sent him rolling. He could feel the ground shaking with every stomp that Biggs came and he got on all fours in a football stance and dove at Biggs’ shins, flipping him over Carnage’s back.

The two quickly pushed themselves up on their feet and stopped, as both stood ready. They circled each other, ready to bounce with a blink of the eye. A tingling feeling twiddled between both of the fighter’s arms and legs, their chest burning with hatred. The fight had barely begun yet fatigue from wanting to land one punch to end it all set in.

The pace began to slow slightly. They both inched closer together and Biggs went for a wrestle grapple, only missing with Carnage ducking and kicking him in the kidney that shot Biggs down gripping it. Carnage quickly went to work with kicks as he lifted up Biggs and punched him a few times, dazing him and gripping him tight hitting a clothesline that knocked the back of his head against the ground.

It was what Carnage did best against guys bigger then him. Keeping them on the ground, or if they were on their feet only to punish them so severely that they’ll regret standing. Carnage proved this with Biggs as he lifted him up only to drag him to the cage and throw him head first into the unforgiving steel. He lifted him up again and bounced his head higher, holding him up he raked his face against it and then punched him in the temple, collapsing him backwards.

There was no clear way to win the match when Carnage thought about it, it was far from anything sanctioned. Unlike most cage matches, if Carnage left he wouldn’t win, nor could he leave. He looked around and soaked in the cheers that beckoned him to do more. Carnage grabbed Biggs’ baldhead and felt a jolting pain in his gut as Biggs drove his elbow into it.

Carnage tried to grip the headlock harder, but Biggs tightened his bicep and drove his elbow deeper, with the third and final shot Carnage loosened his grip and jolted back, with Biggs clotheslining him to the ground. Carnage laid flat on the ground stunned as Biggs was on his knees with his hands touching his face checking for blood.

Carnage turned over his head and saw a boot flying towards his face and dropped towards the ground. Biggs’ kick barely missed and he didn’t hesitate as he locked up Carnage and dropped backwards with a quick DDT.

Carnage rolled, he knew if it laid there he would be punished again so he kept rolling until he hit the side of the cage. He felt like it bought him time, any distance for rest was worth it.

The arena roared.

There was a stiff pain.

He felt broken.

It was the feeling of 329 lbs dropping on the back of his neck from a quarter way up top of the cage. Both feet aimed perfectly. Biggs lifted up Carnage and he spat in his eyes. Carnage fell limp to the ground as Biggs wiped his face and eyes. Angrily, he kicked Carnage in spite in his back, then picked him up slowly. He grabbed onto the cage’s steel and used it as a pulling force to drive Carnages face against it, as Carnage’s head bounced back with every shot the cheers would louden.

SMASH!

SMASH!

With one final pull Biggs used both hands. Carnage fell back with hands sprawled out. Biggs picked him up and kneed his spine repeatedly before pulled his neck back under his arm and driving his own body against the cage again.

It became clear that this was his game plan, to his whatever he could as his advantage.

He picked up Carnage and lifted him off the ground, choking him as he leaned him against the cage for support. Carnage gagged as Biggs’ massive hands wrapped around his neck, he felt dizzy and tired and with his last energy he kicked.

And kicked.

He felt the fingers loosen so he uppercutted. He felt the thumbs slightly tilt so he jabbed his throat. Biggs coughed as he stumbled back, and as Carnage ran forward, he threw a clothesline but missed as Carnage ducked, dropping with both legs dropping kicking Biggs’ knee than it was slow motion replay that the producers put on television as Biggs’ jaw swayed and his face went blank from the direct kick.

With Biggs down, Carnage took this time to throw as many profanities as he could possibly think of.

“Fucking piece of shit,” Carnage finished. Biggs began crawling and he threw a punch directly on his kidney that made Biggs spit, coughing and yelling as he dropped. It froze every nerve in his body with only his lower back in pain, Carnage punched again, and the other side and picked up Biggs slapjacking him on the floor with dust and dirt flying up in the air.

Carnage didn’t stop there as clawed Biggs’ face up and delivered a devastating jawbreaker that knocked him unconscious.

Carnage caught his breath for a quick second. He looked over at the man operating the cage and demanded that he raise it. Obediently he did and Carnage quickly stepped out, looking around he grabbed what he could.

Tables, chairs, bells, hammers, anything.

The floor was littered.

It was beautiful to Cornelius. He picked up the typical chair first, he studied it at first, and picked a spot.

CRACK!

The chair dented sideways, not exactly where he chose to dent it. He felt like he was losing his touch.

CRACK!

He dented it back straight again. Biggs wallowed in pain as he held his back.

CRACK~!

“Perfect,” Carnage mouthed to himself. He threw the chair to the side as it laid flat at 90 degrees. He looked at the side of Biggs’ eye that was cut open that night he slashed him and smirked evilly. Carnage looked around and picked up another weapon:

A two by four.

He gripped the piece of wood, ignoring the sharp wooden splinters that began piecrce his skin and swung. It cracked across Biggs’ neck and shoulders, lumbering the giant 6’9 forward. Biggs shook his head and turned around and Carnage swung again. Biggs fell backwards and yelped repeatedly as Carnage swung down over and over across Biggs’ open gut, each blow almost making his insides explode.

Carnage had enough of that. He looked around and set up a table beside the cage to the fans’ roar of acceptance. He picked up the battered Biggs as blood was began to form around his mouth. The table nearly beckoned him to come.

Carnage set Biggs’ head between his legs and wrapped his arms around his waist, but stopped. It didn’t seem enough. To murder Biggs he needed more. So he placed Biggs on the table, and picked up another chair as he climbed the cage wall. He looked down at Biggs and placed the top part of the chair with his foot.

It was all aiming…all he had to do…was aim perfectly…

Carnage jumped, with all weight on his two feet with the chair quickly going towards Biggs’ neck. He wanted to end it. End it. End it. End it. End it.

End it.

CRACK!

“Please end it.”

Biggs could hear the prayers from his mother and wife in the stances. It would have been ended if he hadn’t rolled off the table. Carnage drove right through it with the chair and in turn badly damaged his legs. They both laid on the ground, next to shambles on the ground.

Biggs began to kick his legs against the ground as Carnage began to twiddle his fingers. The arena swayed back and forth with twisting as the chants started.

21w.

tA.

21w!

tA!

That was what it was all about, wasn’t it? Wrestling against fighting. It was as if they both knew each other were going for each other as they rolled on their knees and pushed off with both hands in front of them gripping into a lock of strength.

Biggs could feel his entire back collapsing, with every muscle churning for a rest.

Carnage could feel his legs and spine ripping apart from inside out.

Yet it didn’t stop them from trying to get their hated enemy to the ground, to drop to a knee that showed, “I am stronger than thou”. Their veins popped as their fingers clenched tightly against each others. Biggs was slowly pushing back having almost a hundred lb advantage, but heart held back, and the headbutts stung with every swing of the head that Carnage threw across Biggs’ face.

He lifted his knee and he fell over.

Carnage smirked. Biggs choked harder. However it was a switch of expressions because Carnage was the one who was getting a powerbomb. Carnage’s smirk stayed, a blank smile across his face as Biggs breathed in exhaustingly.

His arms supported his entire upper body up as the sweat streamed down his cheek and dripped down his chin. He thought, “Punish more” but his body demanded “end it”.

He pulled Carnage up by his hair and clenched his hand around his throat. Carnage’s eyes shot open, as if he were training for this moment as he swung repeated shots across Biggs’ temple and as Biggs lifted him up regardless, he kicked him in the throat.

Biggs dropped him and dropped backwards grasping his neck for air as Carnage dropped exhausted but not as harmed as he could have been. Both men laid on the ground.

Exhausted, mentally and physically destroyed.

Something was thrown in from the crowd that made Carnage’s eyes twinkle as it hit the top of the cage and laid shaky across, nearly falling down but settling on a single bar in the center. His eyes focused and he realized what it was.

His knife.

He pushed himself up. He needed it. He looked out at the crowd at his father who smiled at him, silently rooting for him. He looked up to remind him to get it and Carnage quickly grabbed the cage, shaking it over and over. The walls moved in and out and the roof began to rock. The knife turned into a wobbling teeter-totter as it finally dropped down and dug itself lightly in the soft dirt.

Biggs looked up and saw it in the middle of the ring, with Carnage standing up across the other side. There eyes quickly connected for a second. And they both raced towards it.

Biggs crawled, running on all fours like a panther as he lunged at it, but Carnage was running on his two feet and kicked up dirt into Biggs face. It connected in Biggs’ eyes and he rolled to the side as Carnage easily picked up the long hunting knife from the ground and lightly pressed it against his chest as he looked up at the light.

He felt complete. As if he was fighting a handicap this entire match and now he’s fighting with two arms instead of one. He looked at Biggs who stood, leaning against the cage for support, holding his side with one hand and his other hanging limp.

It was the screams that drove him crazy as he pulled it back and ran towards Biggs. He stabbed with quick but fierce but missed as Biggs rolled out of the way. Carnage quickly turned around with his eyes sharp.

He was in his own killing zone.

Enter Kill Zone.

The pace was quick. He could feel Biggs’ breathing, never mind hearing it. He could taste his heartbeat. He could taste his blood.

Carnage saw Biggs. With his eyes sharp each step felt like a breath of air; the jerking of the knife back like opening his mouth and inhaling, the stabbing like exhaling with relief. Biggs dodged again, this time only barely, Carnage pulled back again and stabbed on his left side, the fans were horrified as each slice across Biggs’ body and arms connected but every stab barely missed.

Biggs grabbed his arm with the knife and used his other to throw punch after that punch that didn’t phase him. Carnage headbutted Biggs and stabbed so quick that even he didn’t see it go down.

Exit Kill Zone.

It was the rush of his precious sinking into flesh that relaxed him. The screams piercing the ears as pushed deeper, even though it was as far as it could go. In the left shoulder was where Biggs felt the jolting pain that ran through his body and made him drop to his knees.

His scream only comforting a part of the agonizing feeling of death as Carnage pulled up and with both hands high over his head was ready to lunge down with Biggs kneeling before him.

It was over.

It can’t be over.

As Carnage drove the knife down, Biggs grabbed Carnage’s legs and tackled him. The knife was clenched tightly in Carnage’s hand but as it hit the back of the ground it dropped.

Carnage quickly rolled over and looked for it under the flying dirt.

Biggs was bleeding profusely now. His eyes weary from the blood loss. He shook his head and saw the knife in front of him. He picked it up and stood up, slowly as Carnage backed up as he saw it in his hand. The 21w fans began to cheer louder now, screaming bloody revenge.

Biggs touched his stab wound on his left shoulder and marked the blood around his neck. From behind he felt someone’s hands come through the cage as he gripped around his neck. He threw elbows repeatedly and spun around.

Marcus Taylor

Carnage’s father stood before him, his hands up as he tried to back away but Biggs pulled him in through the cage as his face pressed against the cage. He looked down, horrified at what he saw.

A diamond ring, with the letter ‘D’.

The same gift that his mother gave to his only father figure in his life, Donavon. Biggs pulled it as Marcus held onto his hands, he pulled Marcus as his face bounced off the cage and ripped the ring off the necklace around his neck.

Biggs heard thundering steps behind him as Carnage thought it was perfect time to come take the advantage however as Carnage lunged to grab Biggs, he moved out of the way and punched with a right fist that snapped Carnage’s jaw, dropping him sideways.

Biggs focused his eyes on Carnage as his father threw him another replica knife like his however it fell and hit the ground. Biggs lunged as Carnage tried to get it and as he picked it up Biggs connected, blood quickly damping the back of Carnage’s thigh as it drove into his leg. Carnage screamed and quickly spun around, slicing the knife that cut Biggs’ cheek horizontally. Both men pulled back.

Carnage gripping the knife tightly in his left hand.

Biggs gripping the knife tightly in his right hand.

The arena began to chant. It wasn’t 21w, nor was it tA. It became personal.

“Biggs! Biggs! Biggs!” the 21wrestling fans would chant.

“Carn-age! Carn-age! Carn-age!” the Asylum fans would scream.

It was the silence that was most surprising to both warriors as they stood not more than 10 feet apart. They didn’t blink, they didn’t breathe, they refused to die. Biggs fixed the knife in his hand into a stabbing position as Carnage did the same.

It was a rush.

Enter Kill Zone

The adrenaline pumped through the 21wrestling superstar as he ran and jumped up. He felt free but at the same time driven by a force called hate. With both hands high in the air and the knife between them, he drove down at Carnage who stood ready.

The two looked at eachother and closed their eyes as they reached arm distance.

“ARGH!” Biggs moaned as Carnage sliced upwards, the knife deeply ripping into his chest that went from the bottom-left of his body to the top-right…

through the panther tattoo…

through his pride…

Blood ripped and soaked and he could feel it but he didn’t care. Carnage looked up and knew it was coming as the fans gasped in shock.

Exit Kill Zone

“Ergh…” Carnage screamed, his mouth was motioning to utter a word but he didn’t want to say a thing. He wanted the pain to stop but it wouldn’t as the knife sunk deeper into his upperchest. Biggs held both hands around the handle and opened his eyes. He pulled it out and Carnage gagged and fell onto his knees, before passing out hitting the floor.

Biggs stepped back, still holding the knife. With his eyes slowly closing and the blood leaking down his body to his knees, he fell forward. Collapsing.

The dirt was no longer brown, but tainted red and black.

The cage begun to open and the arena roared in appreciation for their champions as paramedics came running down. To the fans, the thought of Carnage and Biggs dying didn’t cross their mind because after the match that they just witnessed…the fans felt that both of them were…

Immortal.

I wanna run! I want to hide... I want to tear down these walls, that hold me inside... I wanna reach out, and touch the flame... where the streets have no name...

Ricky hoped to whatever God there was that his father wouldn't come back. His eyes were beads of gray hopelessness, with a light burning inside as his body revved into an adrenaline rush.

He wasn't allowed to listen to rock music. Father would most definitely give some major damage to Ricky's head if he were to stumble in on him doing this.

The city's aflood, and our love turns to rust...

He was only using it to get himself pumped for the Iliad, anyway. He was on push-up 362, as a matter of fact. And each time this song played, over and over, Ricky felt more and more powerful. More and more treacherous to stand in front of.

He felt more free.

Free. Like a firefly in the middle of the night, free, like a slave crossing into Canada.

... Did he just compare his freedom to that of a nigger's?

He dropped it out of his mind -- as much as he could -- and concentrated on getting to 500.

It was all a rush. The blood seemed to be never ending as it dyed the bandages white to a strawberry-red color. Two stretchers were secured tightly as straps insured no one was to fall off. Each second was vital because each minute was closer to their deaths. Perhaps if Biggs and Carnage were still conscious, their blind hatred would be enough to drive them on their feet and stick the knife into each other’s hearts, but it was what seemed like to be the end.

Marcus Taylor was there as his son being pulled into the ambulance. He stood silently as he looked at his hands and saw blood that wasn’t really there.

“You son of a bitch!” someone screamed. Marcus turned around quickly to see a face that angered him deeply.

SLAP!

The sound echoed as Marcus’ face grew rigid with anger. He was ready to grab her and squeeze every ounce of life out of her but he looked around and looked at all the security and police officers that made him grow more and more hesitant.

”Mia,” he said calmly. “Its good to see you too.”

“How could you do that?” she screamed. “You could’ve killed them both!”

“It was meant to be a cage match with weapons, INCLUDING knives Mia. What don’t you understand about this sport?” Marcus snarled.

“Your son could have been killed!” Mia argued. “Don’t you care?”

Marcus snapped, “Of course I fucking care, he’s my son.”

“And Andre is my son,” Mia replied.

“I don’t give a fuck about him.”

“You should.”

Marcus could feel himself growing more and more ignorant and he hated it, but what right did this bitch have to come slap him, then demand him to be apoligetic in some way?

“Give me one good reason,” Marcus said as he crossed his arms.

“Because he’s your son too.”

It shocked him at first but Marcus shrugged off Mia’s ridiculous claim. Biggs couldn’t be his son they only fucked once.

“Impossible. Shut the fuck up!” Marcus said as he pushed her out of the way.

Mia pulled his arm back. “Andre is 23 years old. Twenty-three years ago Marcus. What did we do 23 years ago?” She paused for a bit as tears built up in her eyes. “Both of your sons can die tonight, don’t you care?”

Marcus couldn’t believe her words. He looked at Biggs and saw a slight resemblance but nothing huge. “Let me go.”

Mia clenched harder and he pulled his arm off. Marcus slowly backed up and turned his back on everything. Like the way he left his wife and son, he was doing it again, he was running.

Mia screamed as she saw him leaving the arena, “You can run Marcus! But I’ll find you!”

Between all this the two ambulances were set and they drove off, leaving behind a mother to worry about her son. And a father with more questions to figure out.

In life, there are but few defining moments that we can actually appreciate as we live them out. Where we can say to ourselves, there and then, without hindsight, 'This is history. A stand out moment of an era and a moment that will be looked back on 10, 20, possibly 50 years from now.'

Immortals had certainly been one of those nights.

But, while everything that had passed meant so much, to so many people...It was at this very moment where business didn't just begin to pick up...

It exploded.

Because the time had arrived... The time, for The Iliad; Meaning "war" in Latin, there could be no description to more aptly fit the occasion. Except, from this war there would emerge a clear winner...and a clear loser. The winner being the team that could best represent its promotion. The team that was prepared to go to any lengths to achieve victory........Possibly, the team that could function most aptly as just that - A team.

In a nutshell, this was it.

The Asylum or 21 Wrestling?

Fighting or Wrestling?

All of that was to be decided.

Right now.

......

*BOOM*

The giant video wall was illuminated with a sensational firework display, as the theme "Unreal" by Soil cued up, sending the 40,000+ capacity crowd into mass hysteria. It was almost surreal at this point. For this was a moment that had been anticipated for so long and now that it was upon us, it was as if we didn't know what to feel...Or how to react.

The emerging of the word "ILIAD" on the video screen accounted for a reaction, though. It sent chills down the spines of every single witness.

Then, a neutral ring announcer climbed into the ring and raised a microphone to his mouth. It was over a minute, almost two, before he allowed to speak, though. When he did, he had this to say:

"Ladies and gentlemen....If I may please have your attention.

....

Up next, is THE ILIAD!"

Whilst fan loyalties were divided, the sounding of their roar was undoubtedly a unanimous one. It was one of approval.

A fine looking young lady entered the ring, holding aloft the finely crafted, gold Iliad Trophy. A trophy that represented victory, greatness, but possibly most importantlt....Superiority. The announce continued.

"This match will be contested between Team Asylum...And Team 21w. Both comprising of a maximum of six participants per team, the match is to be competed under a unique set of rules, mutually constructed in the interest of giving both sides an equal chance. Competed under tag team stipulations, the goal is to eliminate all members of the opposing team, which can be achieved in three ways. Either by Ejection, which means an opponent going over the top rope, by Submission...or by Pinfall - a count of three being issued by the neutral referee. The winning team will be the team with the last remaining competitor, or competitors, when all members of the opposing team have been eliminated.

So without any further delay, I present to you, TEAM...21W!!"

Another almight boom from the fans...and then...

"Fiend" by Coal Chamber.

It was of course, Mike Ritz.

Full name Michael J. Reeves. A former 21w World Champion who had been with Mark Knight's company since day one. Not that you could describe Ritz's tenure as being 'appreciated', but his talent, persistence, passion and consistency were unquestioned. Despite the fact that no one liked him, nor had they ever, Mike Ritz was a man running by his own unique set of morales. His own tradition, beliefs...and rules. Those alone were enough to get him by and somehow, either by hook or by crook, the face of Mike Ritz was always there or thereabouts, when it mattered most...

Just like tonight.

As Ritz climbed into the ring and was checked with vigour by officials, those 21w fans in attendance did something they probably never dreamt they'd do...

They cheered Mike Ritz's name.

What more could illustrate their unmatched desire to overcome Joe Campbell's carefully chosen selection of warriors?

Ritz grinned, widely. Until...

""Live to Imitate"

And if Ritz's reception shook the proverbial rafters, then Coby Wright's measured on the richter scale. A man probably closer to the heart of 21w than anyone who had ever been involved with the promotion, it was now that the sheer magnitude of this momentus occasion began to hit us...and hit Coby Wright.

He stopped for a moment, half way up the ramp, before turning ever so carefully to one side, then around to the other, just taking a few moments to survey the phenomenal atmosphere being created, mostly, by the huge army of loyal fans he liked to call 'The Wrighteous Ones'. Coby shook his head with a rise smile on his face but, although The British Lionheart had made his name in 21w playing the role of everyone's favourite joker, there was no mistaking his understanding of what tonight meant....And what was expected of him...

...and his long time close friend...

"Sandstorm"

Tyke.

A reception just as big as Coby Wright's.

Here was a man who, at the tender age of just 26, had almost seen and done it all. He'd won titles in multiple promotions, appeared on TW, fWo, RW and 21w TV within the past three years, to name just a few noteworthy promotions, but it was his remarkable enthusiasm and respect for the industry that had attracted so many admirers. A born entertainer with unlimited bags of confidence, most men would be overwhelmed by the atmosphere on this historic night, but not John Harvey.

As Tyke walked down the aisle to join the man he'd won not one, not two, but THREE 21w Tag Team Titles with, many thoughts must have raced in and out of his mind. For it had been a hectic and, at times, traumatic year for the man from Leeds, England, not least in the sense that he had lost his close wife, Katie, just nine months prior to tonight. But those thoughts had to be quickly cast aside, as did thoughts of recent injuries that had kept him out of the spotlight for the best part of four months, because tonight was about the future. It was about securing not only his own future, but helping to preserve the futures of those men around him. He had been chosen as one of the elite six...and Tyke knew full well what his responsibilities were.

Tyke joined Coby in a corner and the two conferred with one another as Ritz stood alone, with his back to both men, one of which he had previous friction with. But it went without saying that both men had to forget everything that had passed, for just this one night.

Three remained.

The crowd waited with anticipation pervading the entire stadium.

Before.....

"My Hero"

The Cult Icon...

Jon Crisp was here, contrary to those who doubted he would be.

Jon Gibson.....A bitter, bitter man. Arguably one of the biggest talents in the industry and now 21w, Crisp's career had been littered with frustration. But all it had served to do was add to Crisp's determination. Determination to make it to the top and that meant shoving aside everyone who stood in his way. There were never any doubts over where Crisp's allegiances lay...

They lay with himself...

..and with the pack of followers he had assembled recently: Joey Malone, Jason Nuclear and personal bodyguard, Chris Tyson.

Crisp was his own 'Cult Hero'...his own idol, his own influence. But he would do anything to make sure everyone else felt the same way about him. Despite his best attempts not to compete in this match, for whatever personal reasons he had, there was certainly no better stage on which to shine, than Immortals. Though, like always, it was more than likely that Crisp had his own agenda and would stick to it. What that meant for the other eleven contestants in the match...Only time would tell.

Former fWo star, Crisp, didn't stand near his so-called compatriots...and it was likely that the fifth member of Team 21w would take the same stance.

"Fight Music"

The Black Scorpion.

The former Hardcore Champion.

The former Tag Team Champion.

The former 21w Millennium Champion.

The biggest bully on the block. It could only be....FREAKRED.

But, as the 6'7, 320lbs monster stepped out onto the ramp and marched down towards the ring, the fans could only cheer. Personally, they may have hated his guts, but tonight they needed him. Tonight, just like Tyke, just like Coby Wright, just like Mike Ritz and Jon Crisp...

21w NEEDED Freakred.

And he knew it.

To this man, or beast, as many have referred to him, being in the ring with six opponents was his idea of heaven. Since 1972, Freakred has taken an indescribable amount of satisfaction out of seeing others suffer and that is why Mark Knight chose Freakred to compete in a match of The Iliad's proportions. He too, would more than likely adhere, only, to his own agenda; Well known for making and breaking his own rules, possibly the most intimidating man in wrestling, probably the most uncaring, unwholesome and unforgiving bastard of a man, Freakred was almost the prototype model you'd expect to be manufactured by Joe Campbell himself, but this war machine was Mark Knight's creation. From the CWO to 21w, the two had followed each other. Freakred owed Knight, without a shadow of a doubt.

But would he repay him tonight?

.....

As Freakred entered the ring, the fifth and penultimate member of Team 21w, anticipation was, in a word, defined by every single onlooker.

Would the final member emerge?

Beaten, battered, torn...and possibly inches away from being broken, the legend known as 'Golden' Glen Miller was so vital to 21w and to wrestling in general, that there wasn't one person in the industry who wasn't biting their nails at this very point.

Would he, woudn't he?

......

But, for a good three minutes, nothing came.

Then, just as a cloud passed overhead, the unmistakable sounding of "I Am Immortal" boomed out of the City of Manchester stadium, ran through the loins of thousands....and manifested beyond the realms of normality.

This is what happens, when a multiple time World Champion, an icon...and a legend that spans three decades steps out in front of 40,000 people.

With his left leg heavily strapped and supported with the aid of a large brace, the two time and current 21w World Heavyweight Champion hobbled down to ringside. The limp, a consequence of so many attacks over recent months, mainly instigated by Freakred and his group, The Bullies. But no one cared right now.

He was here.

And that was all that mattered.

Because Glen Miller was a survivor. Magnetised to the spotlight for over 20 years, the man so widely known as The Golden God never ceased in his quest to prove to himself and to the legions of fans that worshipped him, that he was still the iconic figure of generations past, present...and future. Success was to Glen Miller, what cocaine is to an addict.

Regardless of his condition, the 50 year old, 'Golden' Glen Miller would lead 21st Century Wrestling into the fire with nothing else on his mind, other than taking himself and all five teammates, no matter what he felt for them, through that fire and out the other side.

Because, to the World of wrestling, but most importantly to Glen Miller, he had to.

The doubters had written him off. But he was proving to be the bionic man. Age and pain never meant anything to Glen Miller. Because all he knew...

Was being superior.

Tonight, 21st Century Wrestling NEEDED...to be superior.

"The Shawshank Redemption" by Thomas Newman.

And with it came a man who's role on the Iliad was just as significant as any other, in Ricky Wasp stood 6'9" inches and 292lbs or raw destructive power... he was without question the future of the Asylum... and with the Asylum's future at stake... it seemed as though there could be no better man to defend it.

The irony was, if Ricky was the Asylum's future... he stood as a bleak representation, he was a racist... a supremacist... and generally, what was wrong with society, yet in the Asylum he could flourish... in the Asylum he could be himself without having to suffer the consequences.

As Wasp appeared from behind the curtain, he did so without his father... undoubtedly, he was watching backstage on the monitors, but on this occasion... Wasp would have to prove to his father and himself that he could complete the task alone, the divided fans in attendance booed and cheered the monster respectively, as he fixed a glare war beyond the wrestling standing before him on the ring apron, beyond... and at the glimmering Iliad trophy which he and the Asylum team were six victories away from obtaining.

He came to a stop at the bottom of the aisle way, engaging in a stare which graced each of the wrestlers standing before him, as he did... another track started to play.

"Brutality" by Urban Voodoo... the sound of Hypnosis.

There wasn't much that could be said which could fully describe his debacle... the blood of both 21wrestling and the Asylum coursed through his veins, and Immortals was his crossroad, Joe Campbell had forced him to choose a path, to choose a side.

He was contractually bound to each promotion, and as 21wrestling's Hardcore champion... he was somewhat obligated to fight their cause, this however... was not the case, feeling scorned by months of abuse and rejection backstage, Ty Hughes had chosen to fly the Asylum flag high... and fight for the promotion that took him in first.

As the Hypnotic one made his way down the aisle, Ricky Wasp's eyes narrowed... he wasn't going to look his team mate in the eye... not now, not ever... as Hypnosis strode down the aisle and stood beside the giant Wasp, each man's back arched somewhat aggressively, just feet away from each other... they were struggling not to tear the other half apart.

In the nick of time however, valuable distraction was provided.

"Black & White" by Static-X.

The Lawyer, the Law... and perhaps the most unlikely selection of Joe Campbell's few... Roland Miles Erman, while he and Campbell had never seen eye to eye... Joe had selected him to battle for the Asylum regardless, and although Joe had suggested that it was merely out of spite, he was far from an idiot... giving subliminal recognition to the current Action! Champion by his selection.

The 5'11" champion made up for his lacking height in sheer explosive power and wrestling skill, in a match where pinfall was a means of victory, Joe had chosen well... the Lawyer paced down the aisle and stood beside Hypnosis and Ricky Wasp, tension was now growing all over... between the Asylum and 21w teams, not only at the opposing team... but within the ranks as well.

The light.

Before things could get out of hand, the City of Manchester stadium was filled with blinding white light, and the self proclaimed son of God made his way out into the arena.

"Heresy" by Nine Inch Nails, the fans took the oppertunity to sing the catchy words to the song of a man who had quickly become a cult hero in the Asylum, Christ was everything Extreme... and as the champion, more than willing to take things to a new level of violence if required... this fully justified his selection by Campbell... as with LLB, the two did not see eye to eye, but Joe recognised and respected talent when it came to the crunch.

Christ's career before the Asylum had been a tale of ridicule, but now his spot was cemented... and he was fighting on the biggest stage of them all, as Christ hit the bottom of the ramp, he stood tall beside his Asylum comrades... the war was not far from commencing.

"Negative Creep" by Nirvana.

And with it Villam Ender, perhaps if Joe had to choose one individual who embodied what the Asylum was about... it would have to be Villam Ender, he'd given his mind, his body and his soul to Joe over the spell of his Asylum career, and now he had been called upon by Joe to do the same again... at one time, he'd been considered Joe Campbell's only friend... but many had noted that people do not send their friends to be brutalized and beaten every week... perhaps Villam Ender was finally beginning to realize this, but it was too late now, he was too far down the rabbit hole to turn back.

And so he marched down the aisle into battle again.

And the tension in the arena grew.

Man number six, mystery had surrounded his appearence... was he a face from the past? Pete Borst... Angel Dalton... Graphic Violence? The list of names which Joe could call upon in his darkest hour of need was long... and while guesses and speculation had run wild on the internet... it still remained to be seen who the illusive number six would be.

Illusive, being the key words.

The five Asylum fighters suddenly marched toward the ring... clambering in and standing face to face with the six 21 wrestlers who stood tall and proud before them... the crowd buzzed in confusion... no music was playing, and no number six was on the way.

It was becoming all too apparent... that Joe Campbell's attempts to procure a sixth fighter had come to be futile... if anything illustrated Joe Campbell's truly ignorant and selfish side... it was this, he was about to enter Asylum's biggest battle to date...

... with one man short.

.....................

The crowd were unsure of the situation. A quiet murmur swept throughout the arena as the Asylum stars looked at one another warily, before being approached by the Japanese referee, Jun Yamakawa. The neutral official conferred for a few moments with the five team members and it soon appeared as if they were more than happy to go ahead as a team of five...

Yamakawa notified Team 21w of the conditions and they too, unsurprisingly, seemed fine with the situation. The referee then leant over the ropes to let the announcer know, prompting the announcer to draw the crowd's attention once more...

"I have just been informed that Team Asylum has been unable to find a sixth team member and will now compete in the match with just five individuals, as opposed to Team 21w's group of six. Both teams have agreed to continue with the match, so without further ado.............It is my pleasure to say......LLLLET THE GAAAMES COMMENCE!!"

*DING DING*

Despite controversy looming, the fans boomed emphatically at the sounding of the bell. Because all was said and done.

And it was time to let battle commence.

...After some deliberation, the first 21w representative to step forward was.......Coby Wright.

The crowd cheered, as Wright warmed up by pulling on the ropes, before jogging to the centre of the ring and cracking his neck both sides. He was pumped. And so too....

Was Ty Hughes.

Hughes was the well known member of both promotions, but his loyalties were unquestioned. If anyone wanted to ram home the fact that fighting was better than wrestling, to the 21w World, then it was 'Hypnotic' Ty Hughes. He stepped forward......Wright glanced quickly over his shoulder and was acknowledged by his close friend, Tyke, but this gave Hughes the opening he wanted and, in one split second, Coby found himself being lifted up in the air with a bear hug, spun around and driven into the mat with a spinning spinebuster.

With arms and clenched fists flailing, the Asylum fans boomed. Hughes lifted Wright off the ground and and began pummelling away with everything he had. Hughes was going to prove to everyone in the Asylum that he was the future,

*Thump*

...that he was as true a fighter as they come. That his heart was closer to the core of fighting than anyone else in the industry.

*Thump*

That he was everything Joe Campbell ever looked upon in a tA Champion. That his loss against the Inmate was nothing more than a mere stumbling block on his path to greatness.

*Th-

WRIGHT REVERSED INTO A FIREMANS CARRY.

The 21w fans roared in unison and Hughes couldn't believe it. Embarrassed, though unphazed, Hughes shot to his feet...

...But was sent tumbling back into the corner with a Wright drop kick. Hughes charged back out, screaming out in anger as he did so. Channeling all that sick aggression that the Asylum encompasses, towards Coby Wright...

DROP TOE HOLD.

And once again, Hughes found himself laying face down on the mat.

Hughes snarled. He was being outdone by the one thing he hated more than anything - wrestling. He wanted to do something about it. He wanted to get up, but there was a problem........Wright had flipped him over and slapped on the patented figure four leglock. Hughes rode the pain....but as time went on he found himself further succumbing to the pressure. Forget being outdone. He was being shown up. Anymore of this and he'd soon be laughed at from his own team.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Hughes reached forward.

...and gouged the eyes. But Wright held on. Tightening his grip, The Man of 1,000 Faces refused to give up the initiative. If he refused to give it up, then Hughes would have to tear it away from him...

Another rake to the eyes...This time, Wright's hands flew up as a reaction and he turned to one side, momentarily loosening his leg grip. This allowed Hughes to spring to his feet. He hobbled slightly, but quickly shook off the pain and then, what did he do?....He did what he'd been waiting to do for a long while.

STOMP TO THE GROIN.

...The booes didn't deter Hughes. He smiled as Tyke tried to get in, only to be forced away by the referee. Of course, Hughes was well within his rights, because this was no holds barred.

Hughes lifted Wright up by the legs and looked either side, nodding in the affirmative. He was going to do it again. He didn't care.

But someone else did.

Tyke.

This time, the referee was unable to prevent Tyke entering the ring. The Brit vaulted himself through the air with a flying forearm to the kisser. Hughes shot up and Tyke nailed him with a hard, closed fist. Hughes down again...and none of his teammates looked liked they particularly cared.

Down again.

The referee orders Tyke out but he couldn't be disqualified. Tyke ordered Hughes up, Hughes obliged...

DOUBLE DDT!!

The crowd roared as Hughes's face was planted into the mat. Tyke thrusted his arms up into the air and exited through the ropes. Wright then sent Hughes off the ropes. Hughes reversed...

Re-reversal by Wright....

Back body toss.

Hughes up........Arm drag takedown by Wright. Hughes up again...He charged towards Wright, but was met with a falling arm drag and the 21w fans were soaking up every single second of it. Of course, the wrestling fans absolutely despised everything about Hughes.

Then Wright tagged in Tyke.

Tyke charged in and backed Hughes into a corner, before Irish whipping him across the other side of the ring, into the 21w corner, where Freakred decided to slam his club-like forearm down atop Hughes's head with a crunching blow. Hughes staggered out in pain and Tyke nailed a belly-to-belly overhead throw.

Hughes had been left reeling. Obviously neither of The British Lions had forgotten Hughes's attack on Tyke, three weeks prior.

But Hughes was stubborn. While he may not have been in form, here was a man who had competed for the Asylum World Title and someone who, whilst down, was far from out....And he proved that theory when Tyke hooked the leg.

1.....

Kick Out.

Tyke went flying off as Hughes shoved him mightily. Regaining his vertical base, Hughes bided his time, choosing to circle the determined Tyke.

Hughes had to take a different approach. If he continued to play the game at 21w's pace, then he would struggle. So he held back....Forcing Tyke to come to HIM.

And Tyke, not one to back down from a challenge, obliged. The two locked up in a grapple, at first Tyke forcing Hughes back a few paces but The Hypnotic One's overriding power eventually taking its toll. He shoved even managed to lean down and lift Tyke up, before charging the corner and ramming his countryman's back into the turnbuckles at full speed. Tyke arched his back in pain but Hughes wasn't done. This was his time. Finally he had the advantage.

Hughes proceeded to go to work on Tyke with multiple knife edge chops, slices and slaps, followed by some stiff punches, some with closed fists, eventually drawing blood from Tyke's brow. Hughes then propped his opponent up on the top buckle, before swinging and connecting with a vicious, rising uppercut, the likes of which Tyke's jaw had never received. He went tumbling back...and out of the ring.

The Asylum fans were ecstatic...And so was Hughes. He'd done a number on Tyke again....and eliminated him.

Or had he?

As Freakred nailed Hughes from behind, extra officials were attempting to grab the senior referee's attention. When they did, he was told that only one of Tyke's feet had touched the ground and thus, the Briton was reinstated into the match, much to the delight of those 21w and indeed the many Lions fans in attendance.

However, Freakred had now been identified as the legal man and, while the ref had his back turned, Hughes had craftily lurred Freakred into the Asylum corner, where Villam, Christ and LLB offloaded cheap shots to the body of The Black Scorpion. Freakred slouched as Hughes leant in with unforgiving stomps to the mid-section, before Freakred rose and began to fight back. A "21w" chant broke out as Freakred swung wildly, catching a few tA member's with stinging blows, but the extra numbers were too much to counteract and Freakred was quickly fatigued. Staggering out into the centre of the ring, Freakred attempted to shake out the cobwebs, but Hughes was stalking him like a scavenger. Freakred was about to turn around when suddenly he was met from behind with a lunging blow to the back of the knee. He went down onto one knee and Hughes drove an elbow down across The Black Scorpion's head. Again...and again, Freakred was being stunned, but Hughes soon found that the last few minutes of action had worn him down somewhat. As he peered over his shoulder he saw several outstretched hands and menacing faces of Asylum team members who were thirsty for blood. This was a mistake on Ty's part, because it allowed Freakred that one thing you don't want to give him - A chance......Freakred rose, spun Hughes around and sent a large knee into the fighter's midrift, before sending him off the ropes with ease. Hughes came flying back and Freakred landed a pulsating powerslam that shook the ring.

The 21w fans boomed again, as Freakred beat his chest, wiping a drop of blood from his mouth and sneering at the Asylum corner, to let them know that, undoubtedly, they were losing this match.

But Freakred's cockyness cost him.....

Hughes was up.

Freakred didn't know it...

THE RUNNING DDT!!!!

...Now he did.

The Asylum fans yell out with power, thrusting their clenched fists in the air and starting up a "tA! tA! tA!" chant. But Hughes was unable to capitalise...After hitting his spectacular finisher, Hughes couldn't get to his feet. He couldn't even roll over to attempt a pin and consequently, by the time he actually managed to get up....So head Freakred.....

Hughes spins and is about to charge Freakred, only to be yanked back at the shoulder from one of his own team members.

*SLAP*

Ricky Wasp had just tagged himself in.

He'd had enough.

Wasp wanted blood.....And he wanted Freakred's.

All sections of the crowd went wild as Wasp and Freakred charged each other, before both men proceeded to unleash a flurry of ferocious right and left hands. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, the shots rung through the ears of everyone in attendance. Two juggernauts were colliding...and neither was prepared to give an each.

The 6'7, 320lbs Freakred....against the 6'9, 292lbs Wasp. Who would prevail?

Freakred, for now.....He forced Wasp into a corner, his slight power advantage proving effective, until Wasp proved everyone wrong and came roaring out of the corner like a caged lion. It was a miracle....Freakred, the epitome of destruction was being forced back...

He was on his heels...

And Wasp was a man possessed.

Into the ropes Freakred sailed, before bouncing off. Then, Wasp stepped to one side and threw a punch that connected flush against the side of Freakred's jaw.

"The Burning Cross"

Fans gasped as Freakred's head snapped 90 degrees to the right, reminiscent of Lennox Lewis's knock out punch in his rematch with Hasim Rahman.

Consequently, Freakred stumbled to one side, losing his bearings completely and lunging across the top rope. He'd certainly never been hit like that before...although Biggs Dangsta may argue otherwise........But Wasp had identified an opening. Freakred was bordering on the brink of ejection and all it took was one last push. Wasp wasn't rash, though. He moved in cautiously, unsure of what the right move would be. He wanted to get Freakred the hell outta there, but didn't want to risk his own place in the match.

Fact:

You don't stall when you're fighting Freakred.

*SLAM*

That was the sound of Ricky Wasp's back being driven into the mat by a rocketing spear. All 320lbs of Freakred had just pumped the living daylights out of the 23 year old prodigy, much to the approval of an insane set of 21w fans. Then, Freakred did something that neither he, or anyone else in the stadium thought they'd see him do.

He turned to see Glen Miller holding his hand out.

Glen Miller. The man who's career Freakred had been hell bent on ending for four months solid, ever since Miller retired Freakred's close friend Boswic, at Titania.

.......Freakred tagged 'Golden' Glen Miller.

No one could believe it. Not least, Miller.

But, even with a weak leg, Miller was able, as ever, to concentrate on the task at hand. Immediately, his eyes caught those of Ricky Wasp.

The 50 year old Miller...

...The 23 year old Wasp.

It was truly a battle of Old vs New. Past vs Present.

And if you listened in very closely, as Wasp staggered to his feet favouring his stomach, you could hear Glen Miller's deep, southern accent tell Wasp...

"It's time to go to school."

Knee to the face, elbow atop the head, kne