He stormed into the Arena, as the Fans all cheered in unison. There, was LLB... not only the challenger tonight for the TV Title, but one of the many participants in the ManHunt Match... and after last year, maybe even a heavy favorite.

LLB marched the halls with his game face already on. He was set to step into the Courtroom... and prove the verdict of guilty.

He got to his locker room door and pushed it open, as he threw his bags across the way, landing on the floor right beside the edge of the wall. He began to take deep breaths in and out, as he took a seat on the bench, pulled off his running shoes- but suddenly looked up.

There, passing by his locker room door again... it was Providence. LLB quickly moved to the entrance, sticking his head out as he saw Providence enter his own room down the hall, Television Championship Belt across his right shoulder.

Grinning, ‘The Law’ reentered his.

Fuck you.

ArchAngel simply turned on Camp Campbell, and Ian Maxwell is looking to make Angel pay for it.

Is that enough help? Or should I draw you a picture? I'm pretty good with crayon.

"They Know Who You Are" by Powerman 5000, and out from the back walked the controversial Ian Maxwell. He held a steel chair in his hands and didn't seem to be letting go of it anytime soon.

"Angel Mode Remix" followed next, and ArchAngel came racing down to the Asylum cage and entered as quick as possible. He took the blows to Ian Maxwell, knocking the steel chair out of his hand and sending him down to the mat with a right hand. Maxwell was a little stunned, but quickly recovered with a swift kick to ArchAngel's unprotected crotch.

Angel backed off, clutching his manhood as Maxwell returned to his feet, steel chair in hand. Angel turned to meet his fate, Ian Maxwell slamming that blunt metallic object on his forehead and practically through it. Angel crumpled to the mat, his face against the steel cage. Maxwell raised the chair high, and smacked the life out of ArchAngel with his patented Aneurysm maneuver.

The referee began his count, Maxwell holding the chair up for the crowd to see. The reaction was of pure stunned silence. Angel's forehead had began to bleed and this could have been considered one of Angel's quickest fights ever.

As the referee got to the count of five, Maxwell felt the match was as good as over. He climbed up the steel cage siding a raised his hands in victory.

It was premature.

At the count of eight, ArchAngel stood up on his feet as the crowd actually let out a semi-decent pop. Angel yelled at Maxwell to turn around and face him, and Maxwell did so, still standing on the steel mesh. His jaw dropped, unsure how Angel could possibly still be standing. That's when Ian Maxwell did the unthinkable.

He simply jumped off the side of the cage and down to the floor below.

The shift in scenes went to Miles Blunder, ‘The Germ Gestapo’, as he walked the hallways.

Last week, he had a chance to gain his own locker room rights again... but failed in losing to Faith. She now had hers, and he... he had someone else as a roommate.

Someone of the unknown.

However, he didn’t know where his locker room was yet, so a quick stop in Chris Universal’s office was in place. Miles got to the door, knocked, and opened it up.

There Chris sat. He glanced up and smirked, almost evilly.

“Your locker room is right here.” Universal held out a sheet of paper that Blunder reluctantly took. You could never be too careful, because other than the binder that Universal took the paper out of, God knew where it had been!

“Th- th- th- th- tha- tha- than- thank- y- you.” Blunder went to exit, but he had to... he just had to. Turning around again, Miles spoke. “S- sir?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ple- please have one more chance... a- a- at gett- getting my o- own locker?”

Universal shifted his eyes. “I’ll tell you what. If you get second last, or win the UK Title Match tonight... -in other words, if you aren’t the first one out,- I think we can make some sort of room. Some people haven’t been showing up as of late... so, I believe that’s possible.”

‘The Germ Gestapo’ nodded and walked to the door.

“Oh, and Miles...”

“Y- y- y- ye- yes?”

“Your roommate. Very interesting person indeed...”

Gulp.

Chris Universal sat as his desk, Exxa Decimal behind him with his arms crossed. Universal's feet were on his desk as he simply smiled. There was a buzz heard, before Universal reached over and pressed a button in front of him. Into the room walked none other than the King of Poland, Eddie Scott Poser. "Hey Eddie," Eddie nervously sweated before tugging at his collar. "Take a seat."

Eddie cleared his throat before following orders. "Uhmmmm... hi?" was all the king could mutter.

"How come you weren't out for your fight Eddie? I thought you were excited?"

"I was, but then I saw a picture of this Devoid guy, and he's freakin' scary man! So I hid in the Asylum's Linen closet."

Universal turned toward Exxa and raised his eyebrows in confusion. Exxa shrugged. "Eddie, we don't have a linen closet."

"Hid in a closet, took a bus to Acapulco, same thing."

“Well, at least you’re honest with me,” Universal snapped his fingers, grabbing a piece of paper to his side. “I’ve got an excellent idea. How about you join the Manhunt match?”

“Man… hunt?” Poser gulped. “Is it like that book where people are hunted alive?”

Carrying a sheet of paper in his right hand, the spiky haired blonde turned the hallway corner at a very conservative speed. He didn’t want to go too fast, in fact, he didn’t want to go at all... but that was another story. Blunder walked slowly, so he wouldn’t miss his directions.

And if you looked at the sheet of paper, the directions weren’t hard. It was a mere two left turns, and then the second door on your right. But, being Miles Blunder, and blowing up every little situation that came across 100 times, wait, no, 1,000 times, this was utter hell.

And for him, it wasn’t going to be an easy two corner turn.

Blunder, did, however, turn the first corner... but that’s when it got to him. He believed his locker room was in that area. “There can’t be two more hallways... there just can’t. The directions have to be wrong.”

Knocking on the second door that he saw, it opened.

The man that held him hostage last Show with Ruben Ross at the end of the night... as they keyed on him to pick on, which brought out their real attacker.

Blunder sprinted, faster than ever before, as he dove to the floor at the end of the hall, and rolled himself into a tiny little ball.

Biggs, luckily, didn’t even see him. He just sneered and closed his door again.

When these men entered the Asylum within a few weeks of each other, Hans Krueger was firmly established as a man Joe could place in the trenches and fight his battles while ruling with an iron fist. Eddie Cheno however, was nothing more than a pathetic stoner whose naive nature gave Hans and his then partner Adam Nowell the capability to easily destroy them.

But Eddie just kept coming back for more. Eddie tried so hard to be Hans and Adam's friends, but it wasn't meant to be as they turned on him at Mind Games and eventually brought him to almost commit suicide.

Six months later, neither man wants anything to do with the other. Eddie Cheno has cleared his mind and knows that Hans will never be his friend or his companion, but due to a loss to Ian Maxwell a month prior, Eddie's forced to work alongside a hated enemy.

Hans Krueger has more distain for Eddie than possibly any other man on the planet. Hans still views Eddie as that pathetic stoner that was useless to Joe's cause and cut loose.

Thing is, for some reason, Joe finds Eddie useful. And both men must now put aside their differences and work together for Joe's vision.

Easier said than done.

"Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck" by Prong, and Hans Krueger made his way out from the back, cracking his knuckles as he walked. His eyes never left the Asylum mesh before him, and a sinister smile was the most noticeable feature of his body. He was dressed in his normal jacket and asylum t-shirt, which had become a bit tattered over the months of fighting.

"Smoke two Joints" by Sublime played as the fans went crazy for Eddie Cheno. Most of the people in attendance were either cheering or booing this former stoner for their own reasons.

People disliked Joe still even though he was being screwed. People disliked Eddie for backing down on everything he fought for just because he lost a fight, and people liked him because they just love to see the underdog prevail.

But tonight, it didn't look like the case. His eyes were dragged and an entire store of plastic bags lay underneath them. He held his hand to his stomach, bracing himself as if his shoulder was in pain, but grimacing with every step. Truth be told, Eddie didn't follow Joe's orders right away, opting to wait a week in order to slowly dwindle his use. He was never good with cutting things off cold turkey, but he couldn't imagine what he was in. He hadn't eaten in a week, and he hadn't slept in just as long. And with the chords to his song playing over the PA system, Cheno had such an urge to light up it wasn't funny. It was almost a ritual, light up the bong; take a few tokes and head to the cage.

He didn't have that anymore.

Cheno climbed in the cage, and the bell was quickly rung when Hans threw the first punch, catching Eddie square in his jaw. On the patch that would never go away if Eddie kept the pace up that he was on today. Eddie winced in pain before exposing his midsection. Hans, knowing that Eddie must be in stomach pain from how he held his abdomen while walking down to the cage, kicked him. This sent Cheno flailing backwards into the cage, back first and positioning himself upright with a lean. Hans charged, throwing his shoulder into Eddie's midsection, before following that up with a few punches to Cheno's ribs.

Cheno tried to fight back, but it was to no avail as Hans Krueger had taken the definite advantage early on. Hans clinched his arms around Cheno's back, lifting him off the ground and away from the cage, before twisting and delivering a spine buster. Cheno let out a cry of pain as his face contorted, lying on the ground with three different spots screaming out in pain.

Hans just got to his feet, dusted his hands and smiled.

One... Cheno rolled to his knees to prevent his back from having contact with anything. This wasn't exactly a smart idea, as Hans broke the count with a vicious soccer kick to Cheno's gut. This sent the former stoner rolling into the cage mesh once more.

With a burst of momentum, Hans ran toward the fallen Cheno and tried to deliver another shoulder block to Cheno's midsection.

Key word being tried.

Hans hit nothing but steel. And when you have enough steam to be considered a locomotive and you run into what could only be described as a metallic wall with holes, it's anything but pleasant.

Hans rolled over onto his knees, clutching his forehead in pain. Eddie used this to regain himself, clearing the cobwebs before paying Hans back with a kick of his own. This one however, hit Hans in his temple, sending him flying down onto his back. Eddie jumped on top and began to fire away at Hans with rights and lefts, mostly focusing on Hans' head, but glancing a few blows off and onto his neck. Eddie kept throwing them; right left, right left and Hans seemed in no position to stop them.

Eddie threw another blow but this one was deflected by Hans, who had just been able to wiggle out an arm from underneath Cheno. With his elbows up, Hans caught Cheno in his injured jaw with a forearm that sent him staggering. With this change in positioning, Hans was able to regain use of both arms, pushing Cheno by his shoulders down onto the mat and off of him. Hans scampered to his feet, and when Eddie was up to his feet, ducked underneath a right hook attempt. Waistlock by Krueger into a German suplex that sent Cheno crashing down on the back of his neck and his head to groans from the audience in sympathetic pain.

Hans got to his feet with a sinister smile and cracked his fingers. Looking down at the prone Cheno, Hans took a running start and aimed to kick a field goal using Eddie’s face, and most specifically his patch, as the ball. Hans charged, but Eddie was able to lean away and then in a sitting position, chop block Hans’ knee and send him crashing down to the canvas.

Eddie clocked Hans with a right hand, and then another which sent him rolling on his side and to the cage wall. Eddie was quickly on top, choking Hans with his palms and putting pressure on his throat and larynx. This gave Hans an idea, and began to choke him back in a scene that could only be described as pure Simpsons fun.

With his hands locked around Cheno’s neck, Hans tried to use his positioning to monkey flip Eddie Cheno out of the cage. It almost worked, but Cheno was able to use his feet to lock onto the side meshing and not fall out all together. Hans cursed to himself before releasing the choke hold and punching Cheno, swaying him to bridge over the top of the cage. Hans went to unhook Cheno’s feet from the mesh, but Cheno quickly came back and locked Hans in a side headlock.

Hans fired back with a couple more shots to the ribs to break the hold, but Cheno held it firmly strong. Hans tried to swing for his jaw, but Cheno turned his face to the side, and was able to lift Hans upside down.

Sucks to Be You.

And Hans fell to the outside, landing outside of the ring for Cheno’s ring out victory.

ManHunt. He had arrived. His white hair falling across his face, and only one thing was going through his mind. Redemption. Redemption for the pathetic loss by the hands of a demon at Retribution. Redemption for the mistakes of a man who proved himself unworthy.

Redemption for the name that was destroyed by the same man who now was a fool.

Redemption.

He knew what he had to do tonight. He had to do the job his brother had failed to do. He had no brother now, but the job remained nonetheless. He had to bring down theAsylum by defeating another pathetic fool; another villain who knew nothing about anything. It was his turn to prove himself.

His life had changed; Not just the life, but everything within it as well. His soul was different; his face more covered with shadows, his hair more silver, his eyes more bloodshot. He was angry now; Angry at the world around him, and at those who had betrayed him, forgotten his very existence. He had blocked off all he could of the outside world, of his past life. He was living alone, alone and happy.

If he had known of what was to come, of the danger that would befall him in the weeks ahead, he would also have known that his happiness was false. It was merely a mask, hiding the scars of a bitter world, and the soul of a bitter man. His hair draped over his face, he knew tonight he was out for blood.

To take blood from those who had given him wounds for his entire life.

To draw blood from those who had taken away any contact with the holder of the blood that matched his own.

To feel blood pulsing through his veins, because of those who had given him his fighting spirit.

He would do it all tonight, for tonight was his opportunity to prove why he was there. He knew he needed help, but he blocked that out of his mind. He was able, and ready, and willing. He would make any sacrifices necessary. He would survive, and prove why he was chosen to keep the dream alive.

Tonight he would dream, but it would be his last…

The last before the nightmares began.

Right.

So maybe there was another hallway after all.

Miles Blunder turned it; he now had one more to go... but c’mon, there couldn’t have been another. At least not to him. He was sure of that.

Knocking on the second door, it opened.

Miles Blunder suddenly took off and ran away, again.

He was stopped halfway down the hall.

“Objection! Come back here!”

Blunder stopped dead in his tracks, as he slowly turned around... to see LLB standing there, a puzzled look upon his face.

“Can I...” LLB squinted his eyes. He wasn’t sure of who was down the hall... but it didn’t really matter. “Help you?”

A long, long pause.

“You okay?”

Finally realizing he should do something without looking stupid (too late), Miles shook his head no.

“Um... alright.”

Blunder sighed, walking away.

“Wait.”

He stopped, rolling his eyes back into his head.

“You’re Miles Blunder right?” LLB asked, as Miles, again, turned around. “UK Championship contender, right?”

He nodded, and actually walked forward. He couldn’t believe he was doing that, as he looked down at his legs and whispered for them to stop... but they didn’t.

Once he looked up, there he was, in front of LLB, ‘The Law’ & Order’. A more-or-less legend.

The lawyer stuck out his right hand. “Well good luck tonight. Just don’t think too hard... go out there, and fight. That’s usually when people’s best work comes.”

Warning: GERMS!!

Warning: GERMS!!

Not shaking LLB’s hand, he ran off down the hall, without looking back.

LLB shrugged. “Yeah. Okay then.”

A quality that was violently broken as dreaM reached the cage and "Not A Hit" by Margret Heater blared from the speakers. A cigarette dangled between .desolate's lips as he walked down the ramp, his hair pulled back in a sharp pony tail. His head was downcast, bringing the smoke curling up and around his head as he walked.

He ignored the fans violent, harsh denouncements of him, the screamed curses and the flung bottles. He simply walked on, puffing at the cigarette, lost in thought as his boots clicked in hollow resonance on the metal ramp.

As the music faded he cast off his duster, and stepped into the ring. For a long moment the two stared ard at each other, Daniel with his black eyes, white hair, and pale skin, .desolate with his black hair hanging back, the scars of pain writ across his chest in unreadable lines. Time stretched as they stared, daring each other with their eyes to attack.

And then dreaM struck. With a hard shot he slammed a fist into .desolate's stomach, knocking him off balance. Moving fast to capitalize on his advantage, he grasped .desolates arm, pulling hard. Over dreaM's shoulder .desolate went, slamming hard on his back on the mat. The breath rushed from his lungs, leaving him gasping for air. As he struggled to his feet, dreaM slammed a boot into .desolate's ribs, .desolate cringing as the pain lanced through his ribs.

Rolling away, .desolate sprung to his feet, his face twisted in anger. As he stalked forward, he seemed to forget technique and style as he slammed fist after fist into dreaM, sending the white-haired man stumbling back. Grasping dreaM by the hair, .desolate threw him against the metal mesh of the cage. With dreaM's back against the wall, .desolate began to slam fist after fist into his stomach, driving him even harder against the wall. As the metal bit into the flesh in dreaM's back, dreaM suddenly ducked.

The metal gouged .desolate's knuckles as his fist struck the cage. Another shot, and another dodge from dreaM, brought blood to .desolate's other hand. And then dreaM drove a hard shot to .desolate's chin.

As stars sparkled in his vision, he stumbled back, and dreaM began to move with him.

Grabbing .desolate by the hair, he pulled him down, hard, slamming his knee into .desolate's forehead. Moving fast, dreaM grasped his arm and slammed .desolate hard down onto the mat, his face crashing into it. As he pulled harshly on .desolates arm, putting pressure on his shoulder, dreaM ground .desolate's face into the mat.

Blood trickled from .desolates lip as he struggled against dreaM, trying to force the taller, but lighter, man off him. Twisting like a snake in dreaM's grasp, .desolate fought to free himself.

With the arm not in the hold, he reached back and began to pull, harshly, at dreaM's hair.

Slamming his face into the mat, dreaM stopped the futile effort.

The hold let up a little as dreaM slammed .desolate's face against the mat, and .desolate began to lash out as he felt it loosen. Within moments he was free, and he slammed a foot into the gut of dreaM. As dreaM doubled over, .desolate slammed him down, hard, in a swinging DDT, driving dreaM's head hard into the mat. Straddling dreaM's chest, he drove his bloody fists into dreaM's face, splattering blood, both his own and dreaM's as the skin on dreaM's forehead tore beneath the onslaught.

dreaM struggled beneath the weight of .desolate and, after several long minutes of being battered, he finally threw the other off of him. As dreaM stood, blood dotting his face and trickling slowly from the cut on his forehead, he spotted his brother, Darren. .desolate saw the look and looked over himself, as Darren began to reach towards the entrance to the cage.

"No," Daniel told his brother.

"YES!" .desolate screamed, blood trickling down his grinning lips, blood falling from his cut knuckles. "COME ON, MOTHERFUCKER! I'LL KILL THE BOTH OF YOU!" Darren continued to open the door, and .desolate's grin grew wider.

"No," Daniel told his brother again, shaking his head, causing his white hair to sway. Darren, with a last look at Daniel, simply nodded.

.desolate laughed, his eyes dancing with a mad light as he screamed at the other brother.

"COWARD, FUCKING COWARD!"

And then he turned away from Darren, charging dreaM violently. dreaM slipped backwards, propping his feet out. Slamming into dreaM's feet with his chest, .desolate suddenly found himself propelled over dreaM, his body arching gracelessly. He rolled, slightly, as he landed, and spun around as he got to his feet. And then the two stood, each staring at one another.

And dreaM took the offensive, lashing out as .desolate approached, connecting hard with his boot to the stomach. He followed that up quickly with a sharp jab to the nose, slamming his fist into the pressure point. The effects of dreaM's "Nightmare" left .desolate reeling. He stumbled backwards, naseuated from the pressure point shot.

Leveling .desolate with another kick, this time to the chest, dreaM grabbed .desolates arm and began applying pressure. Pulling hard, he began to wrench .desolates arm backwards.

.desolate lashed out, thrashing with his feet and hands, and connected several solid shots to dreaM's head.

With the hold released, .desolate stumbled to his feet, the nasuea slowly fading. Lashing out with a fist, dreaM grabbed .desolate's arm and pulled, executing and over the shoulder throw.

PUtting his old knowledge, knowledge that he hadn't used in over a year, to the test, .desolate twisted his body.

Landing hard on his feet, he grinned and slammed a foot backwards in a mule-kick, striking dreaM hard in his manhood. Spinning around, .desolate began to rock dreaM with hard shots to the face, leaving dreaM, who clutched his testes in agony, to stumble backwards.

With dreaM's back once again to the wall, he grasped dreaM's head and, using all the momentum and force that he could garner, slammed him down hard in a "Graceless Descent."

Blood stained the mat as dreaM lay, unmoving, with his scalp bleeding. His eyes fluttered open, lost and unfocused, as the referee reached ten. And, as the referee proclaimed .desolate the winner, Darren simply turned his back, leaving his brother to make his own way back.

The victory was a hollow one. It wasn’t like before, when the violence and the blood and the pain would excite him. There was no rush of adrenaline as he stood over his beaten victim, no rushing blood. After the violent rush of adrenaline in the ring, it faded from his body, letting the pain sink in. All he felt, as he stood over dreaM, was the hollow pain that he was slowly growing accustomed to, the hollow pain of regret and remorse.

He stared down, through the haze of his hair, and watched as drops of crimson fell from his knuckles. The sight triggered the pain, the pain of knuckles and flesh torn on steel, as his punches missed their mark and landed instead on the cage. As he stared down at the blood, he felt the disgust swell within him like a tide.

Is this all I am? A feeble body of flesh and blood, capable of fear of anger? Capable of pure violence, for the sake of violence? He thought, and he knew it was true. But, he was also capable of regret, remorse . . . and ultimately that which he hoped for, forgiveness.

The blood dripped from his knuckles, and he walked, step by step, bearing the burden of his past on his shoulders. Ignorant of that which was around him, even of the crowd as it alternately cheered and booed him, he failed to see her when she stood in front of him.

And her voice broke the reverie, and he looked up. “You bastard,” she whispered.

There she stood before him, the image of a broken angel, with her arm and leg both in casts.

The pain the sight inspired in him was surely equal to her own. But this was the pain of a breaking heart, not broken bones.

He looked at her, his eyes locked on hers, drinking in the sight of her, savoring the sight, burning it into his memory. Her broken arm hung limp in it’s swing, and her other, hale arm was wrapped around her body, hugging herself. And he looked in her eyes.

And saw his own prior madness reflected in hers. Empty, cold, hollow, filled with pain and aguish, they stared at him, accusing him of all his deeds he’d ever done, even those she hadn’t a clue about. In her he saw himself. In her he saw the cycle repeating. “Look at me!” She screamed at him.

And then she lifted her healthy arm, and he caught the glitter of light reflecting on steel. “you made me into this . . .” she whispered, as tears streamed down her face. As he watched, her finger toggled the safety, on, off . . . on . . . off.

Raising the pistol, she placed it against her temple. He shuddered as he watched, able, in his mind, to feel the gun as if it were placed against his own, the cold steel pressing firmly against the soft flesh. Stepping forward, he spoke, “Don’t!”

His voice was frantic, and she titled her head. Staring hard at him, she slowly lowered her trembling arm.

Watching her, he knew the sheer strength it was taking her to do this. And he knew if he could just hold out, just stop her, long enough, her muscles would give way. She was tiring quickly, he could tell. “Just put the gun down, Morrigan.” He said softly, extending his arms wide, the pain of his knuckles ignored, the crimson drops of blood dripping down his fingers gone from his mind. He didn’t bother with any terms of endearment. She’d fled; so, she remembered. It was a simple thing. She had a gun to her head; she remembered.

Spreading his arms in that universal gesture of attempted good will, he stepped forward. And she lowered the gun, pointing it straight at him. “Don’t you fucking move!” She screamed.

He closed his eyes. And stepped forward again, his boots clicking hollowly on the walkway.

“Don’t make me do this . . .” she whispered, the tears on her cheeks again. She clenched her eyes shut, her arm trembling with nervousness, her whole body trembling with exhaustion.

All there was, in that moment, was the simplicity of his gesture, the trembling of her arm, her eyes streaming tears. The crowds, with their raucous cries for violence, were gone. And the moment passed.

The roar of the gun filled the arena, deafening, horrible in it’s anger, and he stumbled backwards, the pain lancing in incredible agony through his stomach. He looked down.

Blood streamed from the wound, crimson on white, staining the flesh of his stomach, his scarred stomach, almost as if all his old scars had opened up. But they hadn’t. A new one, the blossom of a flower, of a red-and-crimson tinged flower, stood out upon the skin of the left side of his stomach.

The waves of pain battered at him, but he continued staring. No one believes that this could happen to them, but .desolate finally realized that, truly, this was happening to him. So . . . he thought grimly, This is the way it ends.

He looked up at her, caught the look of pain in her eyes. The crowds roar of exultation filled his mind. They wanted him to react. T hey wanted him to tear her limb from limb. They thought it was all just a Show. Well, it’s all a show, isn’t it? He thought, a grim, cynical smile curling his lips. It’s ‘theShow,’ afterall.

But it wasn’t a show, it wasn’t, he knew, with all his heart. He knew it wasn’t a show because of the pain, lancing through his stomach and vitals like acid, eating away at his strength. It was too real, this pain.

He closed his eyes, his arms trembling from where they hung in the air, spread wide. And stepped forward again. As his foot rose and fell, the words slipped from his lips: “I understand.”

The second shot took him in the head, between the eyes. In that instant, nothing flashed before those eyes, no sudden epiphany, all that there was was the flash and the roar of blood filling his eyes, his sight gone.

Like a broken angel, a doll, a puppet with its strings cut, he falls, the blood staining his brow and trailing down his face like tears. His body lands limply, with a thud, all the grace of life gone from his body. And, as the blood spreads in a widening pool beneath his head, there is a click.

And a click. And another click, repeating harshly. And, Morrigan, with the gun to her temple, collapses finally from exhaustion, the gun falling from her limp fingers.

And with the tears coursing down her face, she begins to sob. Quietly. Beneath the harsh, ugly glare of theAsylum.

The final corner.

And he turned.

Walking past the first door, he got to the second one.

Okay, okay, so the map WAS right after all.

He didn’t bother to knock, not this time. He just wanted to get in there, and rest before his UK Championship Match later on in the night.

He opened the door and entered.

“AAAHHH!!!”

That was Miles Blunder, screaming, as he looked across the grounds... seeing Nicole Carson, the UK Champion standing there, and one of his opponents tonight.

“What are YOU doing here!?” She snapped, as Miles walked in, keeping a good distance away from the cop.

“We- we- we’re roommates.”

She seemed appalled.

“I can’t believe that! Share a locker room... and- and with YOU!?”

Blunder sat himself down on the bench across the way, as he looked up at Carson, and sneered. “I- I- hat- hat- hate- hate it t- t- to- to- too.”

She went back to work, taking her boots out of her gym bag and sat them down on the floor.

Carson glanced at Miles then, speaking a final time. “Fine, but just stay out of my way and everything will be okay...”

“Never d- dr- dre- dreamed of getting i- i- in- in your way.”

About a minute of silence passed, as Miles decided to get up and leave. He went to the door, and that’s when Nicole snapped around. She had forgotten someone else was in the room, and used her cop instincts to shoot right around to scare the hell out of Miles Blunder.

Miles then used his germ instincts. Cops had to have a lot on them... he pulled out his Windex bottle, and sprayed.

Luckily, Nicole was again able to use her cop traits, diving out of the way.

That’s when the two stopped what they were doing. Another long silence played over the locker room. Carson reached into her bag, and pulled out a marker.

“Enough! I’m going to forget you’re here, Miles... so I’m drawing a line.” Carson walked over to Blunder, bent down, and drew one across the floor. “Your end. And then here’s mine.”

‘The Germ Gestapo’ looked down... and there he stood.

In his giant one-foot of an “area”.

Deciding to say nothing, because he was too scared too, he just sat down in it, and waited for his time to come.

Never before had someone had such contempt for cHEESE or egg NOG that they actually went out of their way to create a special match just for them. This was mind boggling at best.

Well, you can say "things change." Especially when you enter the ranks of the Asylum.

Enter Chris Universal, who recently acquired the status as sixty percent owner of the fabled Asylum fighting product. Changes were immediate. In all the chaos that came with Universal's reign, it would seem that someone just forgot to tell the Legion of Dairy to not "cross the boss." Angered by their lack of respect for himself and wrestling in general, an irate Universal told a now unemployed Lonnie Clark that cHEESE and egg NOG could have a rematch at his discretion under his own conditions. Which brings us to ManHunt. Amazing how quick Chris is, eh?

The shot panned over the crowd as they anticipated the coming match with a near-quiet buzz, they wouldn't have to wait much longer.

Biohazard's "Sellout" hit.

The sold out crowd rose to their feet and cheered. It wasn't the most impressive collection of cheers that anyone had ever heard, but the fans were showing their love of the Legion of Dairy. Even if most anyone else in the back didn't share their views. As the shot cut to the stage, a pair of hands pushed the curtain aside as the challengers for the Asylum's Team Titles marched towards the Asylum. Unlike the last time these two team fought, cHEESE and egg NOG actually appeared openly confident as they made their way down the isle.

As cHEESE and egg NOG climbed into the Asylum, Dope's "Fuck The Police" began to play.

Bringing with it's synth-like rock beats, the Asylum's Team Champions. Clayton Richler and Drake Kerrigan appeared under the Asylumtron, focused on the challengers standing in the Asylum. They took their time as they made their way to the Asylum, allowing cHEESE and egg NOG the time to actually figure out what they'd gotten themselves into. There would be no running away in this match. No knockout win. No referee could call the match off. It would only end when one team had pulled both belts down from the peak in the specially-designed cage.

Which Universal simply dubbed "Money In The Bank."

In more ways than one, this could be just that. The tandem that makes up Pain and Suffering is one of the most ruthless tag teams that the Asylum proudly showcases. On the other end of the spectrum, you have the Legion of Dairy, the light-hearted duo-from-Dairytown whom have no end to their tag team showcase, racking up championships in federations left, right and center. This is something any tag team enthusiast looks forward to.

A clash of the tag team titans.

As Clayton and Drake ascended into the Asylum, egg NOG kept himself loose. cHEESE went into a fighting stance, unsure of what to expect from Pain and Suffering. Clayton and Drake just stood in the Asylum as the cage was slowly lowered around them. The four combatants looked around them, watching the cage inch down closer to the ground around them. They all caught sight of the prize, hanging some thirteen to fourteen feet above them on a special bar. All around them, the barbedwire entwined around the unforgiving, rusted, steel structure that was "Money In The Bank." It was almost like fans were looking at The WWE's Elimination Chamber, only it had been changed so drastically it really wasn't anymore.

Universal was probably laughing hysterically backstage as he watched this match unfold on the monitor. "Maybe now they'll learn," he would probably say with a sick smile.

cHEESE and egg NOG's look of confidence slowly faded into looks of concern as the smirks on Kerrigan and Richler's face turned into full smiles. Not happy smiles, these were smiles that said "now you're fucked" loud and clear. As the bell rang, Clayton and Drake charged their challengers.

Two clotheslines.

Not by Drake and Clayton, but from cHEESE and egg NOG. Fans gasped as Drake and Clayton slammed against the canvas. As Drake tried to get to a sitting position, egg NOG grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head back down against the floor, followed quickly by driving his elbow into Drake's face. cHEESE had other plans for Clayton as he locked in a seated arm bar and tried desperately to rip his arm out of socket. Clayton drove his feet as he tried to keep pressure off his elbow and free himself of the painful hold. After grabbing hold of cHEESE's ankle, he was able to force cHEESE to break the submission or cHEESE would get a face full of canvas. Drake had also managed to free himself from egg NOG's "hold" by simply driving his knees hard into the side of egg NOG's head. As egg NOG crumpled up on the canvas, Drake and Clayton were standing again, ready to set their offensive juggernaut into motion. cHEESE was first, since egg NOG wasn't still lying motionless beside them, Drake drove his foot into cHEESE's face, flooring him instantly.

Hard kick to the chest. Then one to the face. Another to his ribs. cHEESE spit up a small amount of blood as another kick actually flipped him onto his back.

*SLAM!*

Drake was hit by a German suplex out of nowhere.

With all their focus on cHEESE, PandS actually forgot about egg NOG lying by the edge of the Asylum. Once again, he would take advantage of his given situation, this time, he hopped, with better results. All for not. Clayton was already on top of egg NOG, laying into him with a series of lefts and rights. egg NOG, still dizzied from the knee to the head, was unable to block many of the shots to his face. His cuts were easily reopened as Clayton burst out in insane laughter, marveling at egg NOG's blood on his hands.

This had gone beyond personal. It was like a "your momma" joke with a horrible outcome.

Clayton pulled a sluggish egg NOG to his feet and directed him toward the wire. He grabbed a handful of hair and tights as he actually lifted egg NOG off the ground and threw him, back first, over the Asylum's fencing and into the supports of the Bank. All with disastrous results.

egg NOG cried out as small parts of his flesh could be seen stuck to the unforgiving barbed wire. He fell against the rim of the Asylum and back onto the canvas. Somewhat shocked, he tried to feel around his back, now slowly being covered in his own blood, but was unable to do so. Thank Clayton for that as he drop kicked an erratic egg NOG, almost driving his head into the Asylum's fence and some of the barbedwire.

Meanwhile, Drake and cHEESE were preoccupied with one another as the two had come to blows. Left from Drake. Right from cHEESE. Left from Drake. Right from cHEESE. Blocked.

Left from Drake. Right from cHEESE. Blocked. Kick to the stomach. DDT by Drake. Simple, but effective. Drake pulled cHEESE back up. Powerbomb. cHEESE was down just as fast as he was standing.

Clayton and Drake looked at each other and decided that it was time to end this. The two looked up at the belts, hanging high above them, and knowing they only way they could get them was through teamwork. Something the two really had yet to really master at any point in their careers. Their eyes were locked on the belts as they raced to think of a way to get the belts down.

"Idea."

Since it was the only logical idea that anyone was going to have, Drake knelt down as Clayton climbed up on his shoulders. Drake stood, knees about to buckle under him. Still not close. Clayton slid down Drake's back as the two took another approach. Drake knelt down again, instead of Clayton sitting on his shoulders, he stood on them. Using the side of the bank for support, Drake stood and slowly walked over toward the belts. The whole while, egg NOG was starting to stand. He mouth was watering with the possibilities of what could be done to Clayton and Drake in their vulnerable state. He charged.

Eat your heart out, Goldberg.

Spear.

Drake went down with egg NOG, Clayton was left to his own landing, which was hard on the mat. egg NOG pulled Drake on, the crowd fully behind him at this point. cHEESE was up as well as egg NOG actually lifted Drake onto his shoulders like Drake had done to Clayton only seconds before. However, I doubt it was for the same reason this time. cHEESE was perched atop the rim of the Asylum, egg NOG moved into place. cHEESE jumped, clotheslining Drake.

Dairy Device.

Their heroes would have been proud of that one. egg NOG bounced back onto his feet, he arms held high in celebration. cHEESE looked up at the belts, if they were too high for Pain and Suffering to reach, the smaller Legion of Dairy stood no chance. Still, they would have to get them somehow, they wanted to leave with those belts. cHEESE shrugged as he told egg NOG to squat down. cHEESE stood on egg NOG's shoulders as he struggled to stand. At first he couldn't, finally, with help from the supports, he was able to stand. egg NOG hurried toward the belts as he noticed Clayton and Drake starting to pull themselves together. Drake was the first to stand and shook off the effects of the spear, only to see cHEESE and egg NOG trying the same thing they had. Oh how Drake hated copycats. Oh how Drake hated the Legion of Dairy. He made his way towards cHEESE and egg NOG. egg NOG looked up at his partner and cried out, "jump!"

cHEESE did. Through one miracle or another, he actually grabbed a hold of the bottom of the I beam support atop the Bank. While his grip was loose at best, he quickly adjusted himself and slowly inched towards the title belts. Under cHEESE, Drake was taking good care of NOG. By throwing him into the rim of the Asylum. Drake turned to his partner and pointed up to cHEESE. Clayton nodded as he raced to get on Drake's shoulders. Drake positioned Clayton under some bars on the dome of the Bank and actually lifted Clayton up so he could grab them.

On one side of the Bank you had cHEESE, going at a snails pace to get the belts. On the other side, Clayton Richler, trying to stop cHEESE from reaching those belts and get them for himself. cHEESE saw him coming. cHEESE also noticed that he had the same monkey bars to aid him in his quest to get to the belts. Oops. cHEESE grabbed onto the bars and picked up the pace toward the title belts. All while egg NOG and Drake watched helplessly below.

Clayton was the first to reach the belts but cHEESE was quickly approaching. Clayton tried to unstrap one belt, but didn't have the strength to hold himself up with one arm. cHEESE was only a few feet from Clayton, he rocked back and forth on the bar, building some momentum that he used to kick Clayton in the chest. The crowd shrieked as it looked as if Clayton would actually loose his grip and fall to the canvas below. He didn't, however. cHEESE advanced one bar and then another. Clayton tightened his grip as he moved past the belts and towards cHEESE. cHEESE looked surprised as Clayton actually moved behind him.

All part of his plan. Clayton locked in a body scissors that forced cHEESE to swing his legs up onto the bar with the belts so as to not be pulled down by Richler. Clayton smirked as he locked his legs around a bar that was under cHEESE's stomach. Clayton took a deep breath and let go of his bar.

The crowd gasped. Clayton was hanging upside down, some fourteen feet in the air. He rocked his body back and forth until he had grabbed cHEESE's legs. He held them with one hand and hit them with his free hand. Finally, Clayton pulled his legs off the bar.

And locked in a Boston crab. Hanging upside-down, fourteen feet in the air.

That took some balls.

Clayton's face was turning beet red as cHEESE tried to hold on for dear life. Finally, Clayton let go, much to the relief of cHEESE. Clayton swung himself back up onto the bar and started for the belts, cHEESE was now on the defensive. As cHEESE straightened himself out, he noticed Clayton was starting to unhook the first belt. "No today," he mumbled as he moved forward one bar, putting himself right behind Clayton. cHEESE's options were limited, so he wrapped one arm around Clayton's neck and in one fell swoop of his other arm, knocked Clayton's lone arm off the bar.

And the two fell.

Culminating with Listeria™ some fourteen below them on the mat. Needless to say everyone in the arena could hardly believe what they'd just witnessed. Even egg NOG and Drake were shocked. But they remembered that this had to continue, so fight they did. egg NOG charged at Drake, letting out a mighty roar, only to be met with a boot to the face that had him on his back in the blink of an eye. Drake then grabbed NOG's legs and held them, spread eagle, as he sneered at NOG.

*SMACK!*

Kick to the you-know-where. Needless to say, egg NOG would probably be singing soprano from now on. Drake grabbed a handful of egg NOG's hair and hand him on his feet, only to wrap his large hands around the neck of the smaller egg NOG. And up he went. Drake held egg NOG in the air, trying to choke the life from egg NOG's smaller body. You could see NOG's eye slowly start to roll back in his head, a trickle of blood ran down his chin. Just when everyone thought egg NOG was going to be walking amongst the angels, Drake slammed him hard on the mat, onto his already lacerated back. egg NOG let out a blood curdling scream as he reached for his back in clear pain. Tears streamed down his face as he got to his feet. Only to be clotheslined back down. Drake stood over the fallen egg NOG, mocking him as he squirmed around under him.

Gore.

cHEESE came flying out of nowhere, driving Drake into the canvas with authority. cHEESE looked to the stage as YoGuRt was seen running to the cage, two chairs in hand. Given the gaps in the sides of the cage, sliding something thin like a chair in wasn't a problem, so the LoD were going to take full advantage of it. Two chair were now in the cage, and they were going to be used to their full potential. As cHEESE helped egg NOG to his feet, the two picked up a chair and waited for Clayton to stand first. After a good bit of waiting, he did.

Conchairto.

Clayton was already a mess, now he just looked worse. The LoD's focus shifted to Drake, who was already standing. Oh, and charging at them, readied for a double clothesline.

cHEESE and egg NOG avoided Drake's arm, but somehow managed to catch him.

For the Sellout.

With Pain and Suffering indisposed at the moment, cHEESE and egg NOG went for the glory via the title belts. Setting the two chair under the belts, egg NOG knelt down as cHEESE climbed onto his shoulders. Somehow, through one miracle or another, the chairs held as egg NOG managed to stand on them, it was obvious that they wouldn't be holding much longer as they were already shaking, ready to give without a moments notice. cHEESE still couldn't reach the belts, so egg NOG mustered all his strength and pushed cHEESE up just enough to get one hand on a belt. He strained to get one hand on it as he finally held the belt and was now struggling to unfasten it, the whole while Drake was getting up. As expected, cHEESE and egg NOG were totally blind to the situation. cHEESE unfastened one of the belts and threw it down. The crowd roared with delight as chants of "L-O-D! L-O-D!" sprang up over the arena, however, since the rules stated that the team had to poses both belts to be declared the winner, cHEESE still had one belt to go.

For now he would have to wait.

Drake Kerrigan came calling... with an amazing, impressive, stupendous double powerbomb. egg NOG landed hard on the canvas and cHEESE wasn't as lucky as his partner. While he managed to shift his mass in the air, he still landed painfully hard on the rim of the Asylum, a loud crunch filling the arena as he did. Those that weren't shocked were chanting "holy shit! Holy shit!" Clayton wasn't moving and there was only one belt to go. With the opposition incapacitated at the moment Drake had to act fast, but what could he do? Unless he could grow another eight feet in ten seconds this was going to be a waste.

"Fuck's sake, get up Clayton."

Oh, poor Drake Kerrigan, it's too late. Here come the troops. egg NOG was first, a forearm to the back had Drake staggering, another had him on a knee. cHEESE followed closely behind with a dropkick to Drake's face. It appeared that the fight had shifted into the Legion of Dairy's corner. Wrong. Clayton was up and on the attack. Belly-to-back suplex on cHEESE, reverse DDT to egg NOG. Clayton was the only one still standing, aside from the two chairs that were under the lone title belt still hanging on the pole. The Asylum was a mess, blood was everywhere, it would only get worse. Clayton and a dizzy Drake were both mobile, with them a near-conscious egg NOG, unable to stand under his own power. They maneuvered him in front of the chair. Drake placed NOG's head between his thighs and wrapped his arms around his waist. Up egg NOG went as Clayton grabbed his shoulders. Full force powerbomb through two chairs.

The crowd was eating it up. egg NOG was motionless, his eyes glazed over as Drake kicked the two chairs off to the side of the Asylum. Clayton was standing on the rim of the Asylum.

Moonsault on egg NOG in the center of the cage. Drake held the first title to come down in his hands. He folded it up as cHEESE was just turning around. Drake took this opportunity to introduce him to the Asylum Team Title... by slamming it right between cHEESE's eyes.

Clayton spun his partner around and pointed to the second belt, Drake nodded as he threw the belt aside and set his sights on retrieving the other belt.

Once again, Clayton was on Drake's shoulders as they inched towards the last Team Title belt. Clayton had no trouble getting a hand on the belt. It's a good thing he did because it wasn't long before his base fell out from under him. Thank cHEESE and egg NOG's double dropkick to Drake's knees for that. Clayton was hanging fourteen feet above the ring by his title belt. He feet kicked wildly as he tried with all his might to hold on. Here came cHEESE, sitting on egg NOG's shoulders. He wrapped his arms around Drake's waist and clubbed him in the back. egg NOG walked forward, cHEESE still holding tight to Clayton's waist and Clayton still holding the lone title belt for dear life. Something was about give, and that something just happened to be Clayton. His grasp of the belt finally slipped, if not for cHEESE's bear hug, Clayton would have fell to the match once again. Not that it mattered, egg NOG executed something that looked like an electric chair drop and cHEESE's bear hug was suddenly a spine buster.

Once again, chants of "L-O-D! L-O-D!" filled the arena. YoGuRt couldn't believe what he'd witnessed thus far, what an amazing display by both teams. cHEESE pointed to the faithful manager and yelled for a table. Nodding, YoGuRt supplied one. egg NOG set it up under the last belt. He and cHEESE climbed up on the table, and NOG lifted cHEESE on his shoulders from there. cHEESE reached up and unhooked the last belt.

The crowd exploded in cheers.

cHEESE held the title belt up as he sat on egg NOG's shoulder. No bell sounded, egg NOG still needed to get the first belt to end the match. As cHEESE slid down off NOG's shoulders and started to strap his belt on, NOG began his frantic search for the first belt. It was nowhere to be seen. Mostly because Drake had picked the belt up and was eyeing egg NOG like a madman, the belt in his possession. As egg NOG turned toward Drake, Drake charged in blind fury. NOG was somehow ready and avoided the title belt shot and connected with a drop toe hold. Drake's face bounced off the canvas as he grabbed at his nose in pain. egg NOG grabbed a chair, still in decent shape given the powerbomb that it felt earlier, and set it up next to the table. egg NOG pulled Drake off the canvas, the title belt still held tight in his hand and climbed on the chair, maneuvering Drake in front of him. NOG threw three fingers in the air, oddly enough it was the sign for the Dudley Boyz' 3D. Fans that saw this barked out "THREE D!" as egg NOG leaped over Drake and drove him through the table.

Dairytown Death Drop, plus a table, equals free belt.

The belt landed in a heap right beside egg NOG, who wasted little time and pounced on it. He clutched it tight to his chest as the bell rang loud and clear for everyone to hear. "Sellout" blasted over the arena as cHEESE and egg NOG were announced the winners. The crowd was in a frenzy over the new champions. cHEESE was jumping up and down in celebration as egg NOG still held the title belt against his chest. The cage was slowly raised as YoGuRt jumped into the Asylum to join in the celebration with is team. Pain and Suffering and the Legion of Dairy just went through hell and back over a petty grudge that started some two months before. Through all the blood, sweat, and tears, cHEESE and egg NOG never gave up. And against all the odds, they somehow managed to outfight one of, if not the, greatest teams to ever step into the Asylum. The name "Legion of Dairy" was now on a list that showcased amazing talent like Pain and Suffering, the Natural Born Killaz, Dissident, The Knights of Apocalypse, Broken Hope, NC-17 and The Lynch Gang. Most of all, they had earned a new title:

Asylum Team Champions.

May God have mercy on Asylum and Universal's soul.

Would another fight really end it? There seemed to be no way for they’re to be a clear winner or loser. They went into the fight blind with rage knowing whatever happened, happened. There were no predictions or clues to the outcome. There was one thing certain though…that there would be pain, and whoever could handle it, would be the one standing through the thick and thin. That last one would be the one who would claim the prize to being right.

Neither cared if it was true, or if it made sense, they just cared about getting even.

A glint of the UK Title was seen and shouts roared through the stands. Nicole Carson stepped onto the stage while the crowd balled insults her way. There was no booing, because that was flattery, instead there was deep hatred. They were just plain sick of seeing and hearing her… basically anything to do with her. She stepped inside of the cage as the shouts hit chords higher than the music.

Instead of reacting to them, there was a wildness to her, there was a different flare to her eyes. As if there was none at all. She handed the UK Title to the referee while her cold steel eyes stalked the entrance.

“Sanity Remix” cut off the music and Faith emerged from the back. The innocent schoolgirl got some cheers from the men, and most were from those that didn’t know she was a psychopath. Faith pumped the air and continued down to the Asylum, obviously imagining Carson’s head as the air. She sneered while walking up to the rim. Nicole Carson stared through the cage to the other side, and Faith stared right back at her.

From the bloodfest they had at Retribution, you’d think they would turn around, maybe even have some respect, but none of them broke their backs yet. The agony was strong up to this point. Staring into each other’s eyes, they knew that this turned too serious for one of them to walk away unbroken.

This time it was for good.

This time one of them wouldn’t get back up.

Faith stepped into the cage.

Carson backed off.

Faith shook her head impatiently then looked toward the crowd, who responded with booing to the cowardice of the champion, and she shook her head once more toward Nicole. Nicole was emotionless, what she was thinking wasn’t clear at all.

Then Carson un-strapped her belt and tossed it away. Faith didn’t have a clue what was going on…whatever Carson had up her sleeve was useless to find out. Faith knew she wouldn’t just throw her weapons away, because that would mean throwing the fight away.

Carson dropped down to two knees.

”Go ahead and hit me.” Carson said and pointed to her chin.

“Take your best fucking shot.”

Before she had stopped pointing, Faith was already on her like a bloodthirsty animal. She thrashed her and kicked her with wicked shots as red rose to her cheeks. Faith wound back while Carson tried to recuperate, only to knock her back with a strong right hand. Carson swerved on her knees, wobbling around in confusion, and Faith continued the onslaught.

She pounded Carson’s face with punches and whipped her side with kicks. Carson didn’t fight back, she took the brunt of them all, practically defenseless.

And Faith kept thrashing, she kept slamming Carson’s head back like a punching bag. Blood oozed from Carson’s opened lips and she clutched her side after each kick now. With Faith’s adrenalin pumping faster, she blasted Carson around fiercely. The attack started to wear her down and her breathing turned heavy, but she kept going. She slaughtered her and maybe even her chance for victory.

”I don’t feel pain.”

Faith wound back and hit her straight on.

”I don’t feel anything now.”

Faith stepped back then charged forward, slamming her face with a kick that would’ve made it from the ten-yard line. Carson groaned from the horrible feeling as she flew onto her back.

“The Other Man” by Sloan.

And there was that man. The other contender for the UK Title for the night. Faith turned toward the entrance awaiting his arrival, forgetting about Carson because she was worse than knocked out.

Miles Blunder walked out…wearing a see- through garbage bag. As soon as he appeared the crowd broke out in laughter.

This was what they waited for?

Miles made his long march down to the Asylum but stopped halfway. Faith stood at bay, ready to jump him as soon as he stepped foot inside…but he didn’t seem to be moving. She motioned for him to start walking and Miles took a big gulp, then trudged forward.

He didn’t understand what he did for this to happen to him. Here was this woman who wanted to rip him apart limb by limb, someone who had tried to do something good for him. But he had completely ruined it, again. Then there was Carson, his new locker mate. He hadn’t made a good first impression…in fact, he ruined it again.

Not very eager, he stepped foot into the Asylum.

Not very good at balancing, he fell.

Faith stood above him and sent hard kicks to his ribs. He rolled around trying to take cover but he was smacked in the face. He covered his body, trying to protect himself, but it did no good. He would only move his arm to the next place then Faith decided to strike somewhere else. He gasped while the air was knocked out of him, trying to breathe in any air he could get.

Blinded by the light, he was still able to see Carson’s figure lurking behind Faith. She was holding something in her grasps, something sharp.

Carson lunged forward with a knife.

Faith moved just in time.

Carson looked shocked, holding the knife that had only struck air instead. She was quickly taken down from an outside crescent kick from Faith. She leaned against the cage as Faith cracked her skull with rapid kicks. The knife fumbled in her hands but she was still able to hold it, until Faith smashed her face against the cage. It fell unnoticed.

Miles stumbled onto his feet and into the fight. Faith continued beating her but was stopped from Carson elbowing her. She kept slamming the edge of her elbow into her soft stomach.

Finally, Faith staggered back and tumbled over Miles, who tumbled down to the canvas with her.

Faith whirled on her feet and broke into a run. She flipped way into the sky and toward Carson, who connected with a bicycle kick. Faith landed on her feet, head butting Carson and then knocking her back with a pump kick. Carson stumbled though bolted forward with an axe kick that Faith ducked under. She grabbed her leg, lifted her high, and then threw her against the cage.

It was a harsh impact but Faith knew not to stop, she sped toward Carson and snapped three kicks to her cheek. Carson’s face whipped around and Faith snapped three more, but on the last, Carson leg swept her to the canvas and locked in an ankle lock. Faith struggled while Carson’s muscles strained to snap her bones like a twig.

Miles peered out through the garbage bag to see Faith’s ankle being torn apart. Some people had forgotten that he was in this fight, but he knew what he had to do. Miles stood on his feet and rushed toward the two fighters.

Faith tried to kick Carson but kicked Miles instead.

He fell back down.

Carson was taken by surprise when Faith kicked her to the face. She released the hold as she fell to the canvas from the kick that busted her open even more. Faith pounded at the ground aggravated then got back to her feet. She limped over to Carson and grabbed a handful of her hair and at the same time kneed her to her face. Faith was intent on pounding her delicate face in. She kept going till no end.

Carson had enough, she desperately tore into Faith’s leg with her teeth. She backed off in shock and disgust at what Carson did, but her emotions were put aside. Carson, back on her feet, grabbed a hold of Faith and lifted her high into the air with strange strength. After holding her in the air for a good time, she drove her down with a DDT. Faith’s head popped off the canvas then she laid completely silent.

The official started the count but never reached a ten. Faith had surprisingly gotten to her feet at the five and the battle raged on. Both of them threw blurred lefts and rights that smacked off each other’s bodies. They were breaking each other down punch by punch.

Miles Blunder…back on his feet.

And he was pissed.

He raged his way over to them and was about to throw a punch.

Faith ducked a punch and Carson’s fist accidentally hit him in the face.

And that was enough to send him down.

At the same time, both of them were wearing each other down. They were starting to heave for oxygen more and their punches were thrown tiredly. They were half assed punches, some of them missing even, but they wouldn’t stop…even if it meant going through a fight that would end with one of them fainting from exhaustion.

Faith broke through and stunned Carson with a knee to the chest. She grabbed a hold of Carson’s head and was going to hit “Myzery”, a blood flow DDT, but Carson spun around to the back of her and pushed her against the cage. Faith bounced off and turned toward Carson, dazed.

And Carson desperately looked around for anything. Anything that would help her win. She saw her belt lying in the corner of the cage and broke at a run for it. Faith was back to reality about now, and she noticed Carson running toward the belt.

Faith leapt onto the cage rim and raced toward the belt along with Carson. She had just gotten her hands on it, when Faith leapt off the cage and tackled her.

Well, almost.

Carson quickly turned toward Faith and sprayed something in her eyes. The crowd cursed loudly, expecting nothing of the less from her. Only in a place like The Asylum would a weapon like pepper spray be legal. Faith’s eyes felt like they were burning out of their sockets and she grabbed a hold of them, teetering on the edge of the cage. She luckily fell to the canvas instead of the outside.

Meanwhile, Carson took the opportunity and reached for her nightstick. Faith crawled across the ground and toward the cage for support, yet was knocked back down from a cheap shot.

Carson slammed the sharp part of her boot into her ribs as she taunted her. Through the kicks she whacked her ribs with the nightstick for more damage.

Add the nightstick shots to the ankle lock and you get Faith not walking anytime soon. Nicole looked toward her with a demented stare while smiling a bloody smile. Overlooking her for a second, she then gave her two more devastating kicks to the ribs. Faith rolled over with pain coursing through her body after every breath. It was instinct to roll away…but only added more to the torture her body was going through.

Carson grabbed Faith by the hair and lifted her. What Faith would have seen at that point was a heartless, emotionless, machine.

But she couldn’t.

Remember the pepper spray?

Though, she could still feel.

One of her senses was gone but the others were perfectly in tact. She wound back and blasted Carson away with tremendous force. The two clashed together in the middle of the Asylum, wildly punching each other.

And then…

Miles Blunder remembered.

He didn’t’ want a co-ed locker room again. He didn’t want to lose again. Miles pushed himself out of his deathbed and rose to his feet, anger fuming from every pore of his body. The crowd then knew what people meant when they said he had potential.

For once, they thought he looked threatening. They thought he might actually win this fight.

Whatever was hiding underneath the pathetic man had decided to come out right then.

He charged toward the two, who had forgotten about him the whole fight, and pulled his arm back. Miles brought his arm forward as he met with them, and everything hit slow motion. He watched his fist tear into Carson…her weight slowly slipping toward the cage…and then her body hitting it…going over…

And tumbling to the outside.

He couldn’t believe it.

And suddenly...

He, too, fell.

“NO! This is not happening... THIS IS NOT FUCKING HAPPENING!!!”

And he lost it.

Miles Blunder shot to his feet on the outside of the cage, as he looked inside. There was Faith, being handed the UK Championship Title Belt as her theme played, and the Fans cheered.

Miles look back down to the floor, and ripping off his see-through garbage bag, he started to literally beat his head off of the ground.

He beat it.

And beat it.

Continuously.

This wasn’t right. Not after he eliminated someone, and the former UK Champion too, in Nicole Carson.

OUTRAGE!

Faith looked at his brand new prize, going down to kiss it...

SMACK.

The Fans booed, as Miles Blunder had taken a chair, rolled back into the Asylum, and smashed it over her face. Faith fell to the floor, as Miles looked at the people. They booed; they booed loud.

But then it hit him... he looked down. There, was Faith... at the mercy of him.

Let alone he had taken out Nicole Carson in the Match.

Pulling the chair back, he smacked it across her again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

The Referee tried to pull Miles away from her, but then he got the steel chair too.

Finally hitting her one more time, Blunder tossed the chair to the floor, picked up the UK Championship Title, and threw it out of the ring.

“I DON’T NEED THAT!”

He reached into his giant shorts’ pocket, and pulled out that mini little Windex bottle he’d always carry around.

He took Faith, and dumped the entire bottle on top of her.

“THERE YOU GO, YOU BITCH!! THER- THERE YOU GO!!”

The stutter was gone (one doesn’t count in Miles’ case), as he left the cage to a lot of boos.

The camera then changed, showing Faith, face-down, out cold, in a brilliant puddle of Windex.

Miles Blunder had snapped. For he had lost again... actually coming close to a win.

But maybe, maybe this was just what he needed.

Or, on the other hand, as he got to the top of the ramp and beat his head off it repeatedly... maybe, maybe he didn’t.

On the top when it comes to the Extreme Title? Steve Christ. A two-time champion, one of the longest reigns with the title in tA history. He was arrogant enough to issue an open challenge.

Sadly for the individual violence at the bottom, he was good enough to defend it.

But what would happen when the individual violence wasn't at the bottom? What if it was coming from near the top? Say, from a former two-time Television Champion and fellow well-loved tA member?

Answers to come...right now.

"Hardest Man" by Nate Dogg, Kurupt & Xzibit. Here came the challenger, the ex-Hypnosis, Ty Hughes. A steel baseball bat in the left hand, a black bag with the ubiquitous white Nike swoosh on it in the other. Matter of fact, he had on a white Nike mesh shirt over his tattered black jeans as he entered the Asylum to the crowd chanting "fuUK?". He responded accordingly, putting the bat down. He looked towards the aisle.

nin. "Heresy". The champion and apparent leader of his own tA Christianity. Steve Christ. He wore a black singlet and the title belt to be contested over his left shoulder. The fans cheering around him didn't shake him, and the glare from Hypnosis didn't either. Another day. Another fight. Another victory.

Of course, that's the problem with competition: the other guy's thinking the same thing.

Steve looked down a little at Hypnosis, who outweighed him by about 50 pounds.

Wordlessly, he held up the Extreme Title right in the challenger's face. A confident smirk rose up from Steve, a smirk that spoke volumes.

But if a smirk spoke volumes, it was fair to say that a superkick was a four-hour Metallica concert.

And Ty Hughes could scream and shout with the best of them.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

"Wot? ALREADY? Bitch." murmured Hughes, as Christ was still on his back.

6.

7.

8.

9.

Apparently Ty hadn't seen the LLB defense, otherwise he would've seen this coming.

Steve Christ, with all the effort of Christina Aguilera to be a whore, kipped up and stared Hughes down. "You ARE fucking stupid." The crowd was torn immediately, pockets of fans chanting CHRIST and other pockets (sticking with the old times) yelling HYP NO SIS!

The challenger charged.

Steve grabbed him and took him down with a fireman's carry. He got back up, and Steve kicked him in the gut--DDT. Hughes grabbed his head, and Steve grabbed his arm and slammed him down behind him. Angle Slammed him, in fact.

No way. Steve Christ wasn't going WrestleMania on Hughes, was he?

Of course he was. Hughes was immediately waylaid by a title shot to the face, then Steve grabbed Ty on his shoulders, doing press repeitions over his head with the bigger challenger.

"MOTHERFUCKERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR~!" yelled the champ. The pressing ended, dropped into the fireman's carry. Here came the pain.

F5.

Christ cracked his knuckles in appreciation of the blasphemical work done.

1.

2.

3.

4.

"fuUK?" Ty Hughes was never one to go quietly into that good night. Elbow to the face. Elbow to the face. Christ cocked back the left hand. Hughes grabbed it and the right arm for good measure. Headbutt after headbutt after headbutt after headbutt after headbutt followed, cracking Christ's nose and sending him down in a bloody mess already. Hughes quickly walked over to his bag, and fished out his trusty steel bat. He brought it up over his head, looking for the knockout blow.

Steve rolled to his left. Hughes swung. Roll to the right. Swing. Miss. Christ grabbed the bag and slammed it over Hughes' head, and again, and again, only to be cut off by a smack in the ribs from the bat. Then, finally, Ty Hughes got a decent swing.

Steve clutched at his spine right away, writhing away on the floor.

"fuUK?"

"fuUK?"

"fuUK?"

Steve couldn't even clutch at his back anymore. He was barely conscious and what was registering in his alcohol-soaked mind was the following pice of information: Back. FUCKED. REALLY FUCKED. Hughes smelled the end. Legs were put together, then Hughes locked his hands, stepped over, and locked in the "Submission". Back in the day, it was the Hypnotiser. But that elevated Texas cloverleaf was still fucking lethal no matter what it was called. Christ was barely conscious. Soon, Ty Hughes would be Extreme Champion.

Well, maybe soon was an overexaggeration.

Those Christ boys always rose again, y'know?

Steve grabbed the mesh, slowly pitching Hughes forward until he completely had him in a modified triangle choke. Hughes stood up, and backed Christ into the rim, hard, sending him out to the floor. Christ looked like he just swallowed a lemon, and he was writhing in pain. Ty grabbed a white football helmet and ascended to the rim.

Diving headbutt.

Whoops. Christ had enough in him to move. Then again, Hughes was wearing a helmet, so it made sense he'd be up first. He took off in a three point stance and Christ was waiting, tossing him hard into the announcer's table. Knees to the chest soon followed from the champion. Pissed off, Christ tossed Hughes onto the table, sending the helmet flying off into the front row. The crowd's roaring was a dull thud in the ears to match the dull thud of pain on the back. Christ reached for Hughes, preparing a big move through the table that would end this.

One problem: Hughes had a counter, and before Christ's plan could come to fruition he'd scissored the left arm and locked in a pretty tight crossface on him. Christ's plans immediately turned from offense, to defense.

But wasn't the best defense a good offense?

Christ began standing up, but quickly fell back unto his belly. Hughes smirked with confidence, subtly moving his submission maneuver into a choke. And at this moment, Christ suddenly took all of his energy and pushed up.

And threw back.

Backdrop driver.

Off the announce table.

Through the timekeeper's table.

The biggest weapon of desperation in Steve Christ's arsenal had been deployed; hell, it was the same weapon (off a ladder, mind) that'd gotten him the belt back some three months previous to this.

Christ rolled off the table.

Hughes was face down.

5.

6.

7.

The wreckage moved at 8.

Ty Hughes stumbled out of it at 9.

And then the bell rang.

It didn't ring because the match was over. It rang because Steve Christ uppercutted it right into the jaw of Ty Hughes, sending him back down. And then Christ decided he wanted to make a point.

And put an exclamation on it as he was putting the bell on Hughes' face.

Christ shook off his right leg, leaving Hughes in a bloody pool that originated from his mouth but was now home to offshoots from his nose and a couple of cuts on his face.

"What the fuUK? now, bitch!" Christ yelled at Hughes during the count, shaking the right leg.

5.

6.

7.

8.

Ty Hughes was on his knees, giving the double bird.

Christ's eyes briefly bulged, then settled in their sockets. He grabbed a chair, and swung.

Hughes ducked, then went to the Sledgehammer. Christ moved away, and the hands met the steel. Hughes clutched at his hands, and Christ slammed the ring bell right back into the back of his head. Ty stumbled forwards, against the partition that seperated the fans from the performers. Steve took five steps back, and suddenly came forward.

Superkick to the throat.

Had done a marvelous job of knocking the beer man unconscious.

Hughes grabbed Christ and jumped up on the announce table, holding a fireman's carry, before yelling out.

"FUUK?!"

Ace Crusher.

Now the Knockout, but it was hard pressed to believe after Hughes had sent Christ through the announce table that he was anything but "Knocked The Fuck Out". The crowd roared (or booed) as Hughes sat in the shattered remnants, blood dripping freely from his cuts onto the floor.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

And a hand suddenly grabbed Hughes from the wreckage and pulled him down.

Dragon by Steve sleeper.

Hughes stood onto his feet, and lawn darted Christ right into the rim. Down went Christ.

Hughes grabbed a hockey stick and quickly broke it over the back of Christ. Christ was on his hands and knees, crawling away from the wrecked tables. Ty was kicking his back all the way around the Asylum--literally. Christ was on the entryway ramp, pulling himself up into a seated position. Hughes got a running start and dropkicked him down. Hughes grabbed Christ by his short blonde hair and hooked his arms around Christ, looking for a modified ringout via overhead belly to belly suplex.

Christ reared back and delivered a massive knee into the groin of Ty Hughes. Divine Retribution on the ramp? You betcha.

Christ crawled away the moment the move hit, climbing the sides of the giant TV wall. Finally, this thing had come to an end.

6.

7.

8.

Hughes wasn't informed it was over. So he got up, and saw Steve Christ climbing the wall unto the bottom overhang. Only thing left to do was follow him. Christ sat down, only to look up and see his opponent climbing the wall quicker, hunting him down like a dog in the street.

Christ briefly closed his eyes and breathed a calming breath. Here came the Hypnotic One.

And more to the immediate present, here came the Extreme Champion.

He swung wildly but efficently, every single punch he was hitting was drawing blood.

Hypnosis was rocked back, as Steve continued a two-fisted assault. Hughes was left seriously dizzy as a flurry of left hands, followed by a rocketing uppercut, left him in a slumped position on the wall. "That's fucking right!" yelled the suddenly resurgent Christ, images of himself projecting behind the actual himself into infinity. Hughes staggered up. Right hand. Left hand. Left hand. Windup. Kick in the nuts.

Arms hooked. Steve was looking for the Michinoku Driver I, the double-underhook brainbuster. Suddenly, Hughes switched the momentum by throwing Steve over his head in a release Northern Lights suplex. Christ hit the inside corner of the wall back first, screaming out in pain. Then he landed on his head. Silence. Christ's limp body hung off the edge of the steel structure, then hit the peak of the rampway with a sickening thud against more steel.

Even the Hughes fans in the house were quiet. Well, at least until the "Holy shit!" chant began in earnest. Ty Hughes stood up, looking at himself, hearing the referee's count in his ears: "4! 5! 6!"

He looked back, a rarity in his life.

Then, without any further hesitation, he leapt off the bottom of the video wall with a moonsault.

CONNECTED.

Hughes just rolled off Christ, holding his chest, hearing the "Holy fucking shit!" chant. Allegiances no longer mattered. The crowd just sat and wondered what more was to come, if any.

6.

7.

8.

9.

9Ľ.

9˝.

Christ's eyes rolled around in his head. His back throbbed. His neck was seemingly hanging on by a thread. But at that moment, all that mattered was his legs.

They were keeping him standing somehow.

"MOTHERFUUK?!"

Hughes had taken a tremendous beating, but had dished out an even bigger one. But this--this thing--just wouldn't die. For a brief, fleeting second, he wished for a gun. Then he saw how close Christ was to the edge of the stage. How one well-placed blow would definitely end this.

Superkick.

Air.

Christ kicked Hughes in the gut, and set him up between the legs.

Ty backdropped him over.

Christ landed on his left leg and a knee. He turned back and went for a spear.

Hughes caught him and fucking LAUNCHED him over his head.

Overhead belly-to-belly suplex.

Off the stage.

Flashbulbs popped everywhere, and then

Christ's back, right into the barricade. He went down immediately to his stomach, lifeless.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

9Ľ.

9˝.

Here came the miracle. Here came the resurrection. How many times had Steve pulled it off here in the Asylum?

This would not be one of those times.

10.

Finally, the war was over. There was a new Extreme Champion, and for the first time in his illustrious career, Ty Hughes was hoisting the belt.

Appropriate enough for him. He just did it.

The scene quickly changed to LLB’s locker room, as he shot up from his bench and marched over to the door. He opened it up... and surprisingly someone stood there. LLB invited this person in. He stood a good inch or two taller than the lawyer, as he wore a blue hoody overtop of his head. ‘The Law’ walked him to the bench, as he tried to hide his smile, but couldn’t.

“Want anything?”

The visitor shook his head no.

“You sure?”

Again, the visitor shook his head no.

“Alright. Now. Look. My TV Championship Match is only minutes away... and I don’t have the best of luck in the Asylum. I can kind of sense something bad happening to me... and if it does, I want you to, you know...”

The visitor shook his head yes.

“Excellent.”

Smacking the wall beside him, LLB exited his own locker room, muttering a few words to himself.

“Sure Reed... bring back Sean Cylear. Drive me out of winning the Virus Match... but tonight, tonight I win the Asylum’s Television Title, and I become the ManHunt Champion...”

The visitor said something underneath his hood, but no one could hear it.

Yet.

Lotus headed up the aisle and held the Women’s Championship up high for a final time. The fans booed as she disappeared behind the curtains. Inside the cage, Nerva sat on her knees.

She grabbed at her hair and looked down at the bloodstained canvas. She looked around at a sea of fans that weren’t pleased with the outcome of the fight.

The fans began to cheer as Nerva stood up, but she shook her head and waved them off. She took a microphone, tapped it a few times, and then held it up. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you were expecting a miracle tonight. You were all expecting I’d win. But I didn’t win. There comes a time in every fighter’s life-”

It was too predictable. The fans already started booing and started “YOU WON’T QUIT” chants.

“If my body could take it, I’d fight a thousand fights before I die. But just like each and every one of you, I’m human. I feel the pain before, during, and after a fight. To be honest, I can’t take it anymore. I’m crying every night from the pain. My doctor told me that I’m close to my deathbed already. I’m only twenty-three years old.

“For the two years I’ve been here, I’ve had a tremendous amount of support. All I gotta say is thanks for the memories, because I have to move on in life.”

She placed the microphone in the center of the canvas and walked out. The fans started to clap and broke out another “NERVA!” chant. A tear fell from her eye as she pushed past the curtains.

This is my way out of it tonight
And this is my last chance to ease the fire
This is my way out of it tonight
I might find one way to get through
How about you
And if I could remember
If I could find a place a time the space to see another way home
And if I could forget you
Maybe there's no other way out
No other way out
“My Way Out” by David Usher

The Crowd began their chant. “LLB! LLB! LLB!”

Thus... it began.

“Still Waiting”, Sum 41.

LLB marched out to a massive pop, as he held his hands in the air, and slammed the both of them down to the ground, as fireworks exploded on the ramp. With that, the lawyer walked it, as the ‘Jury’ all stood, cheering him on.

“LLB! LLB! LLB!”

He entered the Asylum’s door, as he waited in the cage. Then... it came.

“Stinkfest”, Tool.

Providence walked out, as he held his TV Title Belt across his chest. However... he had something else with him.

His gym bag.

Providence carried that in his left hand, as he got to the end of the ramp and placed it on the floor. Entering the cage, Providence handed the Referee the TV Championship Title.

LLB looked across the way at him, who grinned and looked back. The two started to circle around, as the bell went and the Match was underway.

Providence came charging in with a right hand, but LLB sidestepped it, taking Providence’s head and throwing it into the mesh. The Fans cheered as LLB backtracked, and brought his right hand up, only to slam it back down. The ‘Jury’ replied in honor of the signal.

“GUILTY!”

Providence sneered.

He took forth to LLB again, but the Match grabbed a fast pace at that moment, as LLB rifled a left hand... followed by a lot more. Providence reeled back into the mesh, as LLB grabbed his arm and threw the Champion across the way.

He slammed into the side of the cage, bouncing off of it. LLB then kicked Providence in the gut, and laid him out with a double armed DDT.

Still, and unlike most reactions, the Crowd kept chanting along.

LLB cued up his mudhole stompings.

Again... and again... and again... and again... AND AGAIN...

Low blow.

LLB collapsed to the mat as Providence started to rise. It took him a moment or two, but he sooner than later did. He placed his hands on his hips and walked around the cage, eyeing LLB for him to get up. The lawyer then started to, as Providence walked in, and kicked him directly in the head. ‘The Law’ fell again, as the Fans booed... and Providence was pleasantly happy once more about where this Match was headed.

He walked over to the lawyer, lifted him up on his feet... and snapped him with a German suplex. He held on to it too, picking up LLB for another, however, since the two had such a similarity in moves, LLB was able to fix a standing switch on Providence... and hit one German suplex of his own.

He, this time, held on.

Another.

And just like he did during the Virus Match to Airborn Tyler in Action Wrestling, LLB wasn’t going to let go of the move.

Not for a while.

German suplex: number two.

German suplex: number three.

German suplex: number four.

And just because Providence cost him a battle against Ricky Wasp last week, what the hell... he’d do it again.

German suplex: number five.

LLB let go, leaping directly to his feet as he screamed. The Fans went wild as the lawyer turned to the Referee, and told him to count.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Providence got to one knee.

Nine.

And shocking the Crowd, Providence stood.

LLB went after him again, knocking him directly to the mat with a clothesline. Providence fell back down, latching himself to the Referee’s leg as he tried to get up.

Low blow: number two.

Followed by ‘The Fall’.

Providence shot to his feet, looking down at LLB... and grinning. He nodded his head in a laid back sort of way, proud about what he had just done, understanding that he was in the drivers’ seat, and was going to make this count.

“OB- OB-”

“ERECTION!”

To Providence’s surprise, LLB had gotten up. He smiled evilly, before charging himself at the TV Champ.

CLUNK.

‘THE SCHISM’.

Malone: “PROV- PROVIDENCE JUST HUNG LLB UP ON THE BARRICADE!! MY GOD!! MY GOD WHAT A FUCKING SMACK!”

Suddenly, things were brought to another level.

Providence walked around the cage, as he looked at the Referee with a cold hearted face.

“COUNT HIM DAMMIT!”

Thus, the Ref did.

“ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX!

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

NINE!

TEN!

NO!!”

LLB jumped to his feet, looked at Providence, and yelled as loud as he could. Lawyers...

JPP: “LLB’S STANDING!! LLB’S FUCKING STANDING HERE!! I DON’T BELIEVE THAT, DAMMIT!!”

Providence couldn’t believe it either. For he had just hung LLB’s neck out to dry on the top of the cage, as the red marks across his neck proved that statement true.

But the lawyer stood, as he waved his hand towards Providence... calling, him, on.

Business picked up.

Left... right... left... right... left... right.... LEFT... RIGHT... LEFT... RIGHT- Left... LEFT... LEFT!...

LLB hurled Providence into his knee... and then connected with the ‘Black and White’.

“NOW COUNT HIM!!” ‘The Law’ demanded, this time marching around the ring with his hands on his hips. He then clutched his neck, as he made sure it was still in one piece. He was able to push his arms out at the last second, blocking a bit of the barricade from digging itself deeper into his larynx.

“ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX!

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

NINE!

NO!!”

Providence got to his feet, and this time he called LLB on... with a sick, twisted smile.

LLB ran at him. “Erroneous’- no. The TV Champion had moved, as LLB crashed into the side of the cage... and this cued up Providence to pick up ‘The Law’ once more.

CLUNK.

For another ‘Schism’.

Malone: “LLB HAS TO BE DEAD!!”

And technically, in this Match, he was, but the Fans keep on cheering. They all believed in the law... and that helped.

It helped a little too much.

One.

“LLB! LLB! LLB!”

Two.

“LLB! LLB! LLB!”

Three.

“LLB! LLB! LLB!”

Four.

“LLB! LLB! LLB!”

Five.

“LLB! LLB! LLB!”

Six.

LLB started to move.

Seven.

“LLB! LLB! LLB!”

Eight.

He got to one knee.

Nine.

He got to the other...

And then he got up.

“YYYEEEAAAHHH!”

Providence snarled, running into the lawyer... but that’s when LLB lowered his shoulder and connected with a powerslam. However, as LLB stood, trying to catch his breath, the Challenger realized that the Referee was knocked out from the powerslam too, as he caught Providence’s boot in the side of the face.

LLB marched over to him, and began to shake his body. However LLB wasn’t going to let Providence sneak up from behind him. He was too smart for that, as LLB would glance back every now and again.

The TV Champion finally started to move, so LLB walked over to him. He picked Providence up... tossed him into the mesh, and then hip tossed him head-over-heels out of the cage. The Fans went wild with cheers, as Providence was taken out of the ring... and once the Referee would wake up, LLB'd be crowned the new Television Champion.

He went back to the Referee while Providence recovered on the outside. A minute or so passed, as Providence rolled on the cement, attempting to make his way over to his gym bag. He then did, and opened it up... pulling out something that made the Crowd boo, really, really loud.

A needle.

It was time to shoot up? In the middle of his Championship Match?

Well, not exactly.

Sneaking around the grounds, Providence made his way to the Asylum’s cage door. He then suddenly pulled it open, raced in, bringing the needle out of his hand... and into the air.

The Fans gasped, but LLB ducked the attempt to drive the needle into his arm, as he superkicked it out of Providence’s hands, and gave him a double arm DDT. LLB went back to the Referee... picking him up, and pushing him into the corner.

However, this time he wasn’t able to catch Providence slide across the cage, grab the needle... and walk behind himself.

LLB tried to fight away... but he couldn’t. Providence snatched his head and threw it into his arm, as he stuck the needle into LLB... and began to pump him full of whatever was inside.

The Fans all booed; some of them even hurled their waste into the ring. Providence released the needle, tossing it out of the cage... as LLB tried to fight away.

‘The Cleansing’.

The Referee didn’t get up for another good minute, but when he did, he saw LLB motionless in the hold. He walked forward, taking a closer look... the face of LLB told the story. He was going white. But that wasn’t due to the submission... that was due to Providence, and the needle he had used.

Like Eric Berson knew.

He called for the bell.

The Fans booed as Providence dropped the hold and was handed his Championship Title Belt back. He grinned holding it in the air, as he exited the cage and bad mouthed the Crowd.

As EMT’s rushed to the ring to attend to LLB, Providence walked around the Asylum cage, picking up the empty needle that he had used. He then continued to walk around the cage, over to the announce table where he stole a microphone.

“Stinkfist” came to a quick close, as Providence laughed.

“Get up LLB! C’mon... get up!”

The ‘Jury’ just booed, seeing LLB latch onto the mesh of the cage, trying to get himself up with a handful of EMT’s around him. His face was pretty pale, as he fell back down again. A number of EMT’s went to pick him back up, but LLB did his best to try and push them away.

“GET UP LLB! GET UP!”

The boos were strong now, stronger than ever before. Providence had won his Title back... he should have just left LLB alone.

“Get up! You have a ManHunt Match to win!”

But as one of the EMT’s turned around to wave Providence towards the back, he made it clear that LLB was in no condition to wrestle later on in the ManHunt Match.

“What!? He can’t be in it!? Too bad LLB... I thought you could get up from anything!”

More boos flooded the Arena, as “Forty Six and Two” by Tool replayed, and Providence tossed his mic to the ground as he walked up the ramp.

Again LLB tried to get on his feet by himself, but only fell back down. White faced and all, this time he didn’t even flinch.

“GET SOME HELP DOWN HERE!! WE NEED SOME HELP!!” One of the EMT’s screamed, as more of them ran down the ramp; two of them even brushed into Providence as he backtracked up it.

And as the Asylum cage filled up with more EMT’s, the scene went to a screen of black for five seconds... for LLB was down. His chance in the ManHunt Match, was now fully out of the question.

“Shame.” Providence grinned. “Shame.”

Preparing, each in their own unique and individual way, to go into battle... in a battlefield which Joe Campbell had created, born from the darkest depts of his mind, derived of what he'd claimed to be organized chaos... a simple game where violence was given a purpose, and a reward.

ManHunt.

One by one... they filtered into the arena, some faces familiar...

... others not.

"Dude... are you sure this is going to work?" Enrique Credibleno questioned scratching his head.

Or at least what would have been his head, instead he scratched the top of a Policemans hat... which he was wearing as part of the entire officer of the law outfit that he had on.

Avo Chavez tipped back his fireman helmet.

"Sure it will." Avo insisted "The world loves a hero, a mighty protector of the people who can stand and be counted in their hour of need... policeman... fireman, they're sure to let us into the arena."

"Oh... ok." Enrique replied "Uh... what about him?"

chief Schitzo Tod adjusted his red, black and white feathered war headgear... and smudged paint under his eyes.

"Two out of three ain't bad, and besides... we may need smoke signals." Avo chirped, as the three set forth to the arena.

The fans in the arena didn't know it... but righteous thunder was about to roll over Madison Square Garden in the form of three men, Brand Frontier paced with intent through the backstreets of New York with only one one goal; retribution... upon those who had conspired to do him wrong, months ago... Brand was the subject of a cruel attack at the hands of several Asylum fighters, and a plan between Joe Campbell and his fWo nemesis.

Make that, two of them... and little did Brand know... but both of them weren't too far away.

Ric Chronos waited in the shadows, New York was an easy place to blend in... Brand would never know that he'd been followed to the arena until it was too late.

As Chronos followed Frontier through the alleys, they headed toward a destination where the third member of the hate triangle lay in wait, to no surprise... Kodiak Vic Creed sat in the gym benchpressing weight which might as well have been a car above his head, what better way to get ready for the ManHunt.

Speaking of the shadows... another fans Wrestling organization superstar was also residing in them on the cold New York City night, his intention was also revenge fueled... however, he did not hide from an adversary, instead... he hid from recognition... because Eli Flair was a popular man in the NYC region, he had a following... and it would take only one person to see his face, just one cry of his name, to turn a discreet onslaught upon Ruben Ross into anything but.

One crew of insane individuals on the other hand, were struggling to stay out of the public eye, but then... a midget, a guy carrying his head in a plastic bag and two people dressed as super heroes were going to stand out anywhere, even New York... as evidenced by the stares which Steve, Ken War, Beef and Janito of Mega Job recieved as they wandered through the main streets toward ManHunt... leaving the World Without Shrimp to once again fight the Asylum battle.

Not everyone was making an overly effort filled attempt to be discreet however, while some hid in the shadows... others made a meal of the New York exposure.

Tony Davis and High Flyer were certainly garnering some attention at the MSG ticket booth, they didn't have any money to get into the arena... and needed a quick money making scheme.

"Bah!" Flyer exclaimed "Stupid New York, not a flake of snow in sight."

Davis surveyed the surroundings "We could always bottle the smog." he remarked.

"Buy the smog?" Flyer sighed shaking his head and looking to the heavens... and in doing so, failing to seea 6'10" man in a bird outfit stroll past him and into the arena.

As the Mysterious Birdman made his way through the arena doors, he walked past a man who stared long and hard at him, before scratching his head.

"Sesame Street?" Chris Fox mumbled to Pikachu "Better call Mommy Pika, I think we're lost again."

"What do you mean we can ask the blue haired shovel guy?"

Syphon Fission marched past Fox without even looking him in the eye, they might both have been from the same promotion, but it didn't mean that Fission wanted to be seen with Fox in public, Chris simply shrugged and moved on.

Fission may have ignored Fox, but little did he know... that someone was watching him that would not be ignored, formally Quinn Morgan... and formerly his girlfriend, she was now known as Venoma Star, and it was going to be her pleasure to see his blood spilt across the canvas.

"God damned IWO family reunion." Jon Crisp snarled as he glanced from an upstairs window in the MSG arena, he too was going to participate in the ManHunt match... and set off to do so as he paced down the hall.

"What the hell are you staring at?" Crisp snarled, as he passed Great Dragon.

"Not staring, just observing." Dragon replied as he went back to reading his event programme, Crisp sneered... he didn't like any of the fWo employees, let alone the newbies that should've been making his sandwiches.

Dragon wasn't alone in representing the new of the fWo however, the fWo contribution appeared as though it would be more than strong, as a man with a not so favourable past kept a low profile within the corridors of the arena.

"No welcome party?" Jack Lundin said to himself with an ironic smile, he was expecting the battle ahead to be a tough one, but this was something he had to do... to tie up loose ends.

He'd been spotted however, spotted by a man who'd worked briefly in the same promotion as Lundin; Realm... and Pestilence was a newcomer to the Asylum roster, what better way to gain favour, than to inform the boss as to the presence of an old enemy.

Old enemies was a term used loosely however, the same however couldn't be said for Remy Leroux and Chase however, as the two exchanged heated words backstage.

As the two continued to tear into each other, they brushed past a large plant... which appeared to scream as they bumped into it, they paused for a second before resuming their spat, as the plant then sighed with relief.

Not quite the plant however, but the new Asylum team champions hiding behind it, cHEESE and egg NOG, the Legion of Dairy.

Their sighs of relief were quickly turned to the silence of held breath however, as a furious Clayton Richler and Drake Kerrigan stormed by in search of the men that'd robbed them of the title belts which they had fought so hard to acquire.

The link between Pain & Suffering and the Legion of Dairy may have been hate driven, but it couldn't have been as hate driven as that between Fall of Adam and Dream.

Gacy looked pleased with himself, as Oswald looked down at his bleeding fist and his distorted reflection in the shattered mirror before him.

"Why did you do that?" Daniel asked his brother Darren, who stood and looked perplexed... after shattering a mirror before him for now apparent reason.

"I don't know." Darren uttered.

"I don't... know."

Hate was a strong word... but it was also the only thing flowing through the veins of Ricky Wasp, he was ready to tear the house down... and anyone of a different ethnicity was going to be torn down with it.

"Racist motherfUK." Ty Hughes uttered to himself as he paced past Ricky Wasp's locker room holding his newly acquired Extreme Title.

"Dead motherfuck." Steve Christ pitched in, glaring in the direction of the man who was holding what he considered to be his belt.

"Y-yeah... well I'll s-s-s-s-sue you!" Lonnie Clark stuttered.

"Bah! You cannot sue the King of Poland... I will have you hung, drawn and quatered... wait a minute, you only want to sue me... that's the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me... LETS BE PARTNERS."

"o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-NO." Lonnie replied.

"C'mon... I'll give you a nighthood! PLEASE?"

At least some imbeciles were going to be involved, because God only knew... in a match with so many tools of mass destruction, there'd need to be fodder.

"Enjoy the high Lawyer boy, because the comedown's a bitch." Providence smirked to himself as he peered into the emergency treatment room and saw LLB shivering and uttering, the heroin was taking it's toll... one less problem for Providence to worry about.

As the T.V. champion paced away, Miles Blunder headed to the room where LLB was being treated, busting through the door.

"I need anti biotics stat! Whilst urinating... there may have been splash back!"

Blunder frantically thrashed around, almost knocking LLB from the table he was laying on.

After being forced to leave, Blunder realized that he'd touched LLB.

"Ack... junkie lawyer germs... windex, I need it now!"

Blunder raced down the corridor, before suddenly stopping and falling back to the floor with a thud.

Archangel.

Blunder's eyes widened... he quickly scrambled to his feet and ran away as Faith exited the womens locker room and stood beside the 7'2" monster.

"Problem?" she asked.

"Yes." Archangel answered "But not one that I can't solve, in time."

As the two paced away from the locker room, Dawn Van Dammage exited it, looking back at the U.K. champion Nicole Carson as she did.

"Shine up that belt, the third place slot is mine... and then I'm coming back for the title." Dawn snarled.

"Not if I can help it." Carson replied, reaching past a deep in thought Lotus, for her night stick.

Elsewhere, Phillips paced toward the office of Chris Universal wearing a snarl on his face, he kicked open the door... but the snarl quickly subsided.

Exxa Decimal, Biggs, Jeff Garvin, Ace Carter and Noah Hawkins all turned, shooting glares at him as he stood in the doorway.

"Ah Phillips." Universal said with a smile "I do enjoy our little chats... over the past few weeks you've bothered me on more than one occasion, so I take it there's something crucial you have to say right now?"

"It can wait." Phillips answered... slowly backing away.

"Good, oh and Phillips... a piece of advice...

... start running...

... now."

Phillips did, leaving behind a Stranglehold locker room that had his number.

Speaking of locker rooms... the Team Campbell one was also filled with talent.

Hans Krueger, Eddie Cheno, Maxwell, Devoid and Villam Ender all waited impatiently... as always, Joe Campbell was late in briefing them on their mission for the night.

"Come on Sean! We did this at Immortals you cunt... you can't refuse me of this now, it's our hour of need!" Joe Campbell cried desperately.

"No prick, it's your hour of need... I don't have shit to gain from this, so you're on your own... just pray that Universal doesn't make me an offer I can't refuse."

Token Weed sneered and turned his back to walk away, just as an overcome with rage Joe Campbell reached for the gun holstered in his belt.

Before breathing, and thinking better of it.

Token walked away... toward his second ManHunt.

And behind it all, behing the preparation, behind the anxiety... behind those waiting to strike and those knowing that they would be struck, behind champions and challengers... there waited one man, who didn't want to win anything.

Donaven Winters smiled insanely and stared at his reflection in the cut throat razor in his grasp.

"Just you and I now, you... I... and their suffering." Winters laughed, before slowly sliding the blade across the back of his hand.

It was sure to be a battle... a battle to the bitter and bloody end, but the time for introductions was over, we'd met the warriors... and now it was time for the battle...

... it was time for the Manhunt Match. The crowd whispered amongst themselves, questioning whether or not the event would live up to last year's standard.

"We're In This Together" by Nine Inch Nails played over the speakers. The fans started to boo as Chris Universal walked down the aisle with Ruben Ross beside him. He took the microphone, entered the cage, and drew his thumb across his neck to cut the music.

"I know you're all excited about seeing the Asylum's full roster going at it." A smile grew over Universal's face as the crowd cheered. "But there's one bit of business we have to take care of before we get this match started. You see, there's one woman on the Asylum roster in this arena tonight that is REFUSING to compete in the Manhunt main event.

"That bitch is Nerva.

"Nerva, please come out here now. And don't take your time."

The crowd began to boo as security guards grabbed her by the arms and dragged her out to the cage. Her hair was wet from a shower and she had on a pair of jeans and a baby doll top. Nerva shoved the security guards off of her and stepped into the cage.

She looked at Chris Universal, her new 'boss'. Universal looked at Ross, smiled, then looked at Nerva. He reached his hand out to her face and brushed his forefinger over her chin.

"You're a cute one," he said, "and it almost breaks my heart to do this. But despite your comments earlier today, you haven't retired yet. You're obligated to one more match. And that's this match. The Manhunt match. That's all, darling."

Nerva snatched the microphone from him. "I'm done here. That's that and no questions asked."

Universal looked over at Ross and started to laugh. "No, no, Nerva. You don't quite have a choice." He smacked her in the cheek, causing her to fall down. When she got to her knees, he stomped on her kidneys. "This isn't exactly how I wanted to do things, but hey, it's keeping you in check!" He brought her up by the neck and nailed her with the Cha-Ching neck-breaker.

"So with all of this in mind," said Universal, "I'd just like to send a message to the audience here and the members backstage. Before me right now is your very first FUCKHEAD."

As Universal left the cage, Ross picked up a limp Nerva and drove her into the ground with the Plague of Darkness. A referee came down to count her for the ten, and the first points of the match were awarded to Ruben Ross.

Ross raised his arms in the air victoriously, and reached down to grab Nerva by the hair, but he soon dropped her back to the canvas however... stopping to react with the crowd, to the man that'd just burst through the curtain.

Eli Flair.

The packed MSG erupted, as Flair pointed down at Ross and stormed his way down the aisle... Ross bent forth, placing his hands on his knees and waving Flair on... as Flair obliged.

Only to be stopped in his tracks.

Jeff Garvin leapt the barrier from the crowd and rushed up the aisle, colliding with Flair and aiming precise fists to his face, Flair was stunned... staggering back from the initial blows but quickly realizing his situation and firing back, catching Garvin with several blows of his own... suddenly Garvin threw everything that he had into one lariat, and it didn't pay off.

Flair ducked the blow, instantly placing himself behind Jeff Garvin, the story from there was a formality... Flair hooked the hapless Garvin by the head... before raising him into the air with a reverse DDT, the Fallen One... but not just any variation of the blow, Flair swiveled... dropping Garvin off the aisle and down to the narrow concrete passage beside it!

And official was on hand to begin the count on Garvin as Flair snapped his head back in the direction of Ross, who strangely enough... had taken his eye away from Eli completely, twisting Nerva over onto her stomach to complete the locking in of a sharpshooter.

Flair snarled... Ross definately had some audacity about him, to be turning his back on The Eliminator.

As the official completed his ten count and Eli Flair was awarded his first three points of the ManHunt match, he never had time to celebrate nor accept them... as yet another Stranglehold member emerged, this time from behind the curtain.

Noah Hawkins rushed down the aisle, clutching in his hand a roll of barbed wire which he quickly put to use, the warning screams of the New York crowd came too late, as Flair turned straight into a barbed wire coated flying forearm, knocking him back to the steel ramp with a heavy thud.

Noah quickly rose to his feet, before standing over Flair and belting him about the head with the barbs... this wasn't the first time that Eli flair had been up close and personal with barbed wire however, and he quickly put a high pain tolerance garnered over the eyars to use, simply grabbing the barbed wire with his bare hand, snatching it with enough force to pull it clean from Hawkins' hand... before quickly wrapping it around his neck.

Hawkins scrambled furiously... as Flair slowly but surely got to his knees... then his feet, before tackling down Noah and laying atop of him completely... still tightening the wire that was now piercing his neck, Hawkins quickly realized the desperation of the situation... and he promptly tapped out, giving Flair yet another point.

Speaking of desperate situations, Nerva had also come to terms with hers, she tapped out to the sharpshooter being applied by Ross to take his match total to 10 points, she needed to preserve herself now if she was going to get any further through the ManHunt.

"Are you sure this is going to work, old chap?" Janito questioned, stroking his chin.

"Dude... it can't fail, we're all professionals here... all we have to do is accept the terms of the circle of trust, it's very simple." Enrique Credibleno replied.

"Yeah, and besides... he's a cop, you can always trust an officer of the law, especially in New York." BQ said with a smile, as everyone paused silently for a second.

"Anyway." Avo Chavez fired up "The premise is very simple, everyone here knows that they suck... and they also know that they will probably be rendered unconscious many times tonight, so I propose that we keep it in the family... so everyone, form a circle."

Beef, El Janito, Avo Chavez, Enrique Credibleno, BQ, Schitzo Tod, Eddie Scott Poser and Lonnie Clark all stood in a circle.

"O-o-o-o-o-o-k... who goes f-f-first?" Lonnie asked.

"Well, being as I invented the circle... I think it only fair that I place the first blow." Enrique spoke up.

"So let me get this straight." BQ said scratching his head "You hit me in the back of the head... and as I fall unconscious, I slump into the person in front of me and headbutt him, from there... a chain reaction occurs and we all knock each other out?"

"Exactly dude... now, does everyone understand the plan?" Enrique asked.

A few nods and mumbles signalled yes.

"SCORE! Then let the games begin."

Thwack, Enrique belted BQ in the back of his masked head, sure as shit... he fell forth and blasted Lonnie Clark in the back of the skull, Clark screamed... before tripping and bashing heads with Eddie Scott Poser, who also fell forth, jabbing his crown into Schitzo Tod's forehead, Tod saw the blood and flipped out... taking out his Indian battle axe and clonking El Janito on top of the head with it... Janito fell in superhero fashion, hitting Beef with his extended fist as he did... as Beef slumped back, Schitzo Tod fainted from the sight of his own blood... his final act to toss his axe at Avo's head.

Only for it to bounce off his helmet.

"Let me fix that for you dude." Enrique said... taking off Avo's helmet and bashing him on the skull with a solid fist.

Around Enrique Credibleno lay a room of unconscious bodies... but he was not unconscious.

"SCORE!" Enrique said, laughing insanely.

CRACK.

Before slumping to the ground... thanks to a two man conchairto thanks to team V.I.A.G.R.A, Flyer and Davis looked across the room of downed individuals, before shaking their heads.

"What the hell happened here?" An official exclaimed.

"Uh..." Flyer began "We knocked them all out! The battle was long and hard... but we did it!"

"Yep." Davis agreed with a nod, as the official shrugged.

"Welp, I guess you can share the points then."

As the official paced away... the two V.I.A.G.R.A members looked at each other.

"MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

As the battle raged within the arena, the crowd would never know of the war being fought outside.

"Time's up Frontier!" Ric Chronos roared as he hurled Brand Frontier into the side of a solid dumpster "Did you think I wouldn't find you? Did you think my deal with Campbell was limited to that one event? Don't be so naive... he scratches my back... and I scratch his, you shouldn't be here... and thanks to me, in a few seconds... you won't!"

Chronos rummaged through a pile of junk, finally tearing away a plank of wood from a wooden pallet, a nail poked dauntingly through it... making a formidable weapon.

Chronos drew back as Frontier rose to his feet, but as he did so... Brand got a quick shot into his good with a solid boot, a second later he'd snatched the blank away and.

BLAM.

Splinters galore... the nail narrowly missed Chronos' skull as the wood shattered over it via Frontier's mighty swing... as blood poured down Ric's head... Brand nailed him with The Hammer of God heart punch, sending hm sprawling into trash cans and laying motionless.

"No Ric, it's your time that's up... don't go anywhere, I'll be back." Frontier sneered as he shook off the cobwebs and continued his march toward the arena.

"Well, well, well."

Jack Lundin froze on the spot.

"I guess there's a certain irony to this isn't there wanker? I knew I'd catch up with you some day, but not this soon... and not like this."

Lundin didn't turn around, he knew the voice... the voice of Joe Campbell.

"Turn around you twat, I want mine to be the last face you ever see." Joe snarled, putting a hand on Lundin's shoulder, only to have it swatted away, Lundin turned, teeth clenched... as he stood nose to nose with Campbell.

"Stay out of my business." Lundin uttered... but it was too late, he wasn't expecting what occured next.

Campbell sent a hard knee into his crotch, knocking him to his knees asking for air.

"No motherfucker, I won't... because it is my business, it became my business the second you decided to snub me and head over to the fWo... what? Don't you think that I check the internet? I saw your little shoot column bitch... so there's a certain irony in the fact that the people that you called shit... are about to kick the shit out of you."

Lundin continued to breathe hard, as a smile crept over Joe's face.

"Unless of course... you say sorry, and kiss my boot." Joe sneered.

Lundin looked up.

And spat right into Joe's face.

"Fuck you." He uttered.

Joe wiped the spit away.

"Wrong answer, we'll see how you feel in ten minutes."

Joe Campbell slowly stepped back, as Villam Ender, Devoid, Hans Krueger, Eddie Cheno and Maxwell stepped forward.

As Villam sent a hard fist into Lundin's temple, he knew that it was going to be a long night.

Back in the arena, a personal battle was still waiting to be fought.

Ruben Ross lifted up Nerva again... he'd been beating on her solidly for the last minute but her time as the fuckhead was running out fast, taking swift measures... Ross snapped her to the canvas with an Implant Cutter, or the Dance of Death as he called it... she wasn't getting up, and as the ten count hit, he gained yet another 5 points... shooting even further out in front of the pecking order.

But with the ten seconds, came the end of Nerva's Fuckhead run.

The irony being... that Noah Hawkins was currently in mid air...

... thanks to an Eli Flair chokeslam that'd sent him from the ramp, over the guard rail and into the crowd.

A ten count followed... and Eli Flair had yet more points, he was gaining on Ross... and was ready to confront him.

But again, he wasn't going to get the chance.

Flair whipped his head back, flicking his blood soaked hair and riling up the crowd to no end, but Ross simply stood and smiled... seemed he'd been expecting Flair, and had plenty of measures in place.

Especially as Ace Carter quietly lay a glass sheet on the ground behind Flair, before spinning him around, grabbing him by the skull and leaping into the air to delivera tornado DDT... driving Flair skull first into the sheet and shattering it into oblivion.

Flair lay motionless for the ten... and Ace Carter made his first three points of the ManHunt, Eli Flair was in deep trouble, bleeding and out... he lay on the aisle as Carter planned his next move.

And Ross rubbed together his hands, and prepared to join him.

Only to be halted, by Ricky Wasp.

Wasp locked his bear like hands around the throat of the much smaller in comparison Ross... before powering him into the air and choking the life out fo him.

"How's life without air, nigger?" Wasp sneered.

"About... as good... as a... kick... in the balls." Ross splurted, lashing out a boot and catching Wasp in the groin... but the monster didn't move, his hate consumed him... and he tossed Ross over the Asylum rim and to the arena floor with a sick thud, knocking him out and earning himself three points.

Meanwhile in the crowd... interesting developments were occuring.

Blue and blonde hair flashed through the bustling bodies surrounding Noah Hawkins, who still had a good minute of fuckheadism left in him.

"No reason why I can't do this shit two years straight." Token laughed, pulling Hawkinsup by the collar and driving a solid punch straight into his nose.

"Count him... and be quick, I plan to do this shit another six times." Token sneered, grabbing the nearest official by the collar... sure enough, the official counted and Token earned 5 fuckhead points.

Hawkins staggered up to his feet, dazed and confused... he never saw the Pump Kick coming.

Token looked to the official.

"Don't make me ask again."

Another ten count followed, as Hawkins coughed and spluttered... unable to recoverer from either of the two attacks... he didn't even see the third coming.

A straight arm bar, snapping and yanking at the limb, Token clenched his teeth as Hawkins screamed in agony, signalling his submission.

Make that, 15 fuckhead points.

The official looked worried.

"You looked a little concerned there prick... would it help if I told you that, should you decide not to stop this little battle out of fear for his safety, I'm going to pull his arm right off and beat the fuck out of you with it?"

Gulp.

The official declared another 5 points for Token, on the grounds of Hawkins' safety... as he stepped back, he prepared another attack, but the vultures were circling.

"What the fuUK? You gonna leave some for me or what?"

Token turned but was met head on with a running DDT... a Ty Hughes finisher of old, as Token lay motionless on the floor, Hughes scooped up a motionless Hawkins and drove him down with Knockout, a fireman's carry into an Ace Crusher.

"Come on mate, ain't got all day." Ty uttered to the official, who made a ten count on both Token and Hawkins... giving Hughes 5 fuckhead points and 3 knockout points.

"Better... now for some moOOF!"

Hughes never finished his line, as Token got to his knees and send a hard punch straight into his crown jewels... Ty staggered around, as Token got to his feet.

BLAM! Hughes fired back furiously... catching Token in the face with several hard rights, Williams wasn't out however... he fired back just as ruthlessly, blasting Hughes back with several rights and lefts of his own, finally... the two gave up and simply locker horns, tussling and bustling amongst the attending crowd.

What they didn't notice, was the crowd gradually parting... rushing to make way for an individual running at high speed.

Noah Hawkins.

Battered, bloody and beaten... he had nothing left to lose, and it showed... as he vaulted off a chair... using several people in the crowd as stepping stones, before using himself as a human projectile in landing at high speed right onto the heads of Token and Hughes, knocking them to the ground with a thud.

The impact was enough to knock any man out, and sure enough it had... giving the fuckhead of the moment 6 points from taking both Token and Hughes out.

Back in the ringside area, hell continued to break loose.

Eli Flair was still down, as Ace Carter continued to lay into him in an attempt to garner some more points to his tally... and in the ring, Ricky Wasp planned a devious assault.

Wasp reached down... yanking the steel steps from their base and raising them high above his head... Ross was still down and out on the outside as Wasp slowly prepared to drop the heavy steel down upon him.

"Time to say good bye slave." Wasp snarled.

"Who you callin' a slave you pasty assed mother fucker?"

Wasp turned, but a second too late as Biggs whipped a black baseball bat straight across the monsters ribs... Wasp hunched, but only served to lower the steps to a suitable level for Biggs to rear back and send them crashing into his face with a hard big boot.

As Biggs continued the assault on Wasp, Ross rose to his feet... just in time to see Eli Flair wading deeper into the shit surrounding him.

Flair was desperately trying to get back up, bleeding heavily... as Carter continued to pound at him... and now a second daunting prospect was coming to recover, as Jeff Garvin gradually staggered up to his feet... and started to crawl back onto the ramp.

Ross had a choice, finally attack Flair... or aid a brother in taking out a white supremacist.

Help a brotha out? Ross certainly did.

Content with the job that Garvin and Ace would do, Ross clambered back up into the Asylum as Biggs continued to hammer on the downed Ricky Wasp.

"Son of a bitch!" Garvin grunted as he sent a hard punch into Flair's face "That one's for throwing me off the ramp... and this one... this is for... AIEEEEEEEEEE!"

Garvin threw a fist, but Flair countered in the most vicious of ways, simply biting into the soft flesh of his hand... Garvin yelped like a dog as Flair finally released his grip... quickly getting to work on his fight back by tripping Carter, who fell back... snapping his skull to the ramp.

Flair stumbled up to a standing position as his two adversaries struggled to their feet, he quickly took advantage of them both... first hooking Carter into a reverse DDT... then picking him up, only to use him as a weapon, driving his feet into Garvin's groin... as Garvin doubled over, Flair positioned himself perfectly to snatch his head as well.

The crowd exploded.

Double Fallen One.

Carter and Garvin hammered into the ramp as Flair hit both of them with his finishing hold, the three lay motionless amongst shattered glass... Garvin and Ace unconscious, Flair trying to recover, as the official came to a ten count and awarded Flair six points for a double knockout.

And then the tides turned again.

The eyes of Ross and Biggs lit up, and they got to work quickly... as Biggs jammed down the steps over Wasp and took a few steps back... as he did so, Ross precariously clambered to the Asylum rim and took flight as Biggs rushed... the two simeltaniously dropped legs across the steps, crushing the racist monster beneath.

The official started and finished his count, giving Biggs and Ross 5 fuckhead kill points each.

They went straight back to work... as Biggs pulled the black bat across the throat of Wasp and choked at him as Ross delivered right and lefts... neither of them noticing a recovering Nerva staggering to her feet in the backdrop.

Notice her, they soon would.

Ross turned just in time to see Nerva take off... he threw out a desperate kick but she shunned it, catching him straight in the skull with a wicked tornado kick.

Ruben's head snapped back as he fell to the canvas... but Nerva wasn't finished, displaying amazing agility and strength, she dropped from the air and bounces using only one leg...

... to catch both Ricky Wasp, and Biggs consecutively... with the double touch.

One kick hit Wasp in the face and the second caught Biggs around the head... suffice to say, it sent them both sprawling to the canvas with a thud.

Ten seconds passed... and Nerva cashed in big.

Three knockouts, one fuckhead... eleven points.

As Nerva clencher her fists ready for battle... she was joined by a man that'd finally reached the Asylum after a long battle on the ramp.

Eli Flair.

The two glared at each other, before suddenly exchanging a nod that suggested they weren't going to fight one another... but fight side by side.

The roar of approval from the New York crowd suggested that it was a well liked decision, Flair was a favourite... Nerva was a native.

And so, they did.

Flair wasted no time in making his target apparent, he rushed at Ross as he tried to shake off the cobwebs and tore into him with vicious punches and kicks, Nerva hacked at Biggs with distanced kicks... before finally knocking him over the Asylum rim and to the concrete floor outside... she prepared to rush Ricky Wasp... but quickly found herself staring at arena lights.

Token Weed.

Token grabbed a handfull of her hair as she ran and yanked her down to the canvas, before she could even react... he knelt over her and sparked her out with a swift elbow to the temple.

Eli Flair floored Ross with a hard right hand... and turned just in time to see a Token Weed Pump Kick coming, countering with a duck which sent Token flying through the air.

Hitting the kick right to the heart of Ricky Wasp.

Wasp fell to the canvas with a thud, but Token twisted his ankle on the unexpected later landing, as he hobbled back, he fell right into the clutches of Eli Flair, who drove him into the canvas with a chokeslam.

As the counts ensued... Wasp was counted down for another ten, as was Nerva... giving Token another quick 8 points.

And then, everything changed again.

Biggs staggered back up and into the Asylum... but he fell victim rather quickly to those in wait.

Eli Flair picked up the black bat which Biggs had initially brought to the Asylum, and quickly went to work using it to strangle the Stranglehold member... all ironies aside, Flair fell back to the canvas and pulled Biggs with him... after much tussling and throttling, Biggs gave in and tapped out, giving Flair another 5 points.

Flair rolled out from underneath Biggs... but he wasn't back on his feet for long.

CRRRRRRRRRASH!

Ruben Ross rushed him... screaming "I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL MOTHERFUCKER!" as he lunged, knocking Flair over the Asylum rim and travelling with him, smashing through the announce table with an insane thud.

As Flair and Ross lay dormant on the outside... Biggs continued to struggle as the Fuckhead within.

As he staggered up to his feet... he felt the vice like grip of Ricky Wasp around his neck... having just been choked out, he put up very little resistance as Wasp slammed him down to the canvas with a heavy thud... ten seconds passed, scratch up another 5 for the persecutioner.

In the back, the madness continued.

"Shit." Creed uttered... sitting beneath the 450lbs that he was benchpressing.

Too late.

Add another 265lbs to the 450 already above him... and you have Jon Crisp, leaning down on the weights.

Creed's face grew red.

"What's it gonna be roid monkey? You can submit now... or you can slip into the void and I'll bust something over your head while you sleep."

"I submit." Creed gargled, as Crisp earnt himself a quick and easy 5 points.

Crisp released the strangle and stepped back... before suddenly realizing his new predicament.

"Oh... shit." Crisp uttered, but it was too late... the next thing he saw was a set of 450lb weights flying through the air.

Crisp narrowly evaded them... but he didn't narrowly evade the Main Man.

Creed rose Crisp high above his head with a gorilla press... before dropping him into a firm DDT; The Power Trip.

Crisp was out for the count, and KVC had made the easiest three points he was likely to in the entire night.

Especially considering what was around the corner.

CLANK!

Creed fell to the floor with a hideous thud... courtesy of Dawn Van Dammage... who'd blasted him across the back of the head with the nearest available weight, as blood slowly stained his blinding white hair... a ten count was reached, and DVD had made a cool five points on the fuckhead.

And she wasn't finished with her ex... grabbing the nearest set of chest expanders, she wrapped the heavy springs tightly around his throat... throttling the life out of him as he remained motionless... the official made yet another decision, and Dawn was up to ten.

Surpressed rage was gradually finding it's way out of Dawn Van Dammage however... she'd held it all in for too long, last time she'd fought Vic... he'd powerbombed her more times than she could count, it was time for revenge.

Creed groaned... before clutching hius blood soaked head and finally staggering up to his feet, but he was soon back down again, as Dawn clambered up onto the nearest weight bench... appropriate height to aim a devastating shin kick to the side of his head, a move which she called the Dragon's tail.

Ten seconds later, Dawn's point total was up to fifteen.

Creed was having his ass handed to him by Dawn, and it wasn't for the first time... he'd been taken by surprise and now he was well and truly on the ropes... and Dawn was yet to unleash her most impressive feat of strength.

She had to do it... she had to prove that she wasn't only mentally as strong as him... but she could hold her own in terms of muscle power... and she did, as Creed uttered obscenities under his breath, he never saw her coming up from behind... she lifted him off his feet... a task alone, but was far from finished.

She put him down on the weight bench... giving him just enought time to utter "What the f-"

And then... she yanked him backward... snapping his huge frame down with a backdrop driver.

Creed landed at an insane angle... almost certainly breaking his neck, he hadn't however... but the fact that he wasn't moving suggested very bad things.

As Creed lay motionless and bleeding on the floor, Dawn's point total once again rose up five, to twenty.

It rang around the pa system, but didn't matter... people were probably looking for her, but the gym was not the most likely place for her to be, Creed was down and out... leaving only her.

And Jon Crisp.

"Fucking ape... where the hell am I?" Crisp uttered as he staggered up to his feet holding his jaw.

Too late.

Dawn had him in her sights... and took him down swiftly from behind with a stunning tiger suplex 85'... no sooner was Crisp awake, than he was back asleep.

Make that another three points for Van Dammage.

In simple terms... Dawn was on a rampage, she'd already destroyed Vic Creed... who still lay motionless on the gym floor, and now she was moving onto the next available target; Crisp.

"Bitch... I..." Crisp uttered, but once again... uttering was all that Dawn was going to afford him... as she quickly snatched a handfull of his hair... tossing him onto yet another weight bench, flat on his back.

Then... she straddled him.

"Get the hell off freak, I wouldn't even if you paid me... wait a minute... what the hell!?"

Dawn's intentions were far from what Crisp's sordid mind had presumed, she quickly slid up, sitting on his chest and punning him down... before pulling down the weight bar above her...

... which consequently lifted up the weights it was attached to.

Crisp didn't realize the grand scheme of things until it was too late.

In one motion she placed his hand in the gap where the weights usually come down... in a gym, lifters were told never to drop the weights to evade them smacking into each other... but to lower them down slowly.

Dawn, dropped them.

CLANK!

A hideous smash followed by Crisp screaming and cursing at the top of his voice, Dawn had just dropped a good 50 pounds across his hand from a good height, crushing it into a set of weights below it.

"I'll kill you, you bitch!" Crisp snarled... but Dawn wasn't paying attention... she was simply raising the weights, so that she could rop them again.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" Crisp roared as the weights came down across his already bleeding and bruised hand a second time.

"Just submit." Dawn spoke out... as Crisp narrowed his eyes furiously.

"Okay... I quit... fucking psychopath." Crisp spluttered, as Dawn rolled off his chest... allowing him to fall to the gym floor clutching his hand and rolling around in agony.

"Pussy." Dawn snorted, turning to...

... feel the air being choked out of her.

"I thought I'd seen the last of you, slut... seems I was wrong."

Kodiak Vic Creed snarled through blood covered teeth, as he strangled Dawn with all of his might... pushing her backward, before slamming her skull into the hard wall several times.

As Dawn began to fade... Creed stared across at the treadmills queued up side by side.

"Time for some exercise." He said with a sinister look across his face, as he reached over to the first machine and bashed a few digits in... slowly but surely, the running track starting to move.

Picking up more... and more... and more speed.

As the track continued to move around at rapid place... Creed threw Dawn's head between his legs, before hosting her up and hitting an absolutely huge powerbomb.

The emphasis being, on <i>huge</i>.

Creed took a few steps back... before hurling Dawn onto the treadmill with a massive powerbomb, she hit the track with a hideous thud, but because of it's motion... was dragged back to the floor.

Unfortunately for Dawn, between the track and the floor... lay Vic Creed in waiting.

He grabbed her by the hair as she flew off the running machine, before lifting her up and tossing her back to the track with yet another sick powerbomb... Creed's masterplan was becoming all too disturbingly evident.

One of Creed's favourite combo moves was the Bouncing Bomb, a series of powerbombs where he would lift and opponent and drop them down again without release... Dawn was now meeting the automated version of this assault.

Everytime Creed powerbombed her to the track, it dragged her back to him for another, as her limp body arrived for the second time, he yanked her up once more and drilled her to the track with a third sickening thud, this time he stepped back... allowing Dawn's limp body to roll off the running machine and land on the floor in a heap.

"Enjoy the next ten seconds bitch, because the next 50 are going to suck."

Not surprisingly... ten seconds passed and Creed earned himself five fuckhead points as well as a little revenge on the woman that'd spent the last three minutes whipping his ass, not surprisingly... his neck assault was less premaditated... and a lot more ruthlessly blunt.

Creed simply yanked Dawn up by the hair... before tossing her into a stand full of heavy weights, which fell over onto her as she lay out on the ground.

Vic simply sneered as the official counted yet another ten on the motionless Dawn.

"Get up slut! I'm not done with you yet!" Creed roared... pulling Dawn out from under the weights and lifting her onto his back with a torture rack... before promptly hurling her off, bringing her down spine first against his knee.

Ten seconds later... Creed was up to 15 for the night.

Vic still wasn't done however... overcome with rage, he yanked Dawn up by the hair... balling up a fist and preparing to drill it into her face.

"Nothing even changes with you does it Creed? Still a lunatic... still a <i>woman beater</i>."

Creed thrust Dawn to the floor, he didn't need to turn, he knew the sound of the voice too well.

"Ah Brand... talkin' like your shit don't stink again? We've really got to fix that."

Creed gritted his teeth and turned... a second later, he and Frontier were tearing into each other once again.

"Meh meh blah blah boo hoo." Crisp snorted... still rubbing his battered hand "He thinks that's beating a woman? We'll see."

Crisp quickly moved in as Frontier and Creed continued to battle, he locked Dawn into a crossface chickenwing... and due to her response... and lack thereof, the official had no choice but to award Crisp, a crisp five points.

He was going to continue, but the tides were changing once again.

Just as a battered and bruised Eli Flair wrapped barbed wire around his throat and lifted him over his back... after some kicking and struggling, Carter finally gave in and tapped out... putting Flair another five points to the better.

But flair wasn't the only one in line for a shot.

Ricky Wasp barged up the aisle, smacking Flair in the gut with a hard knee before tossing him off the ramp and into the guard rail with a thud, he picked up Carter... who's neck was still entangled in barbed wire, and lifted him off his feet, before snapping him down to the ground with a hard variation of Purity, Carter wasn't moving... Wasp moved another five points up in the standings.

He dragged Ace up and prepared for another five for his tally, unfortunately... Token Weed had other ideas.

The scavangers were now arriving, Token sent a hard kick straight between Wasp's legs, before throwing him sideways off the ramp... colliding with Eli Flair as he tried to struggle back up to his feet, Token didn't need to measure a Pump Kick, he simply stood over Ace and punched him in his exposed face until the official stopped the attack for safety purposes.

Make that five for Token, but the madness was far from over.

Because Token quickly found himself up in the air... and falling from it rapidly.

Ty Hughes, and Knock Out.

Hughes nailed Token on the aisle with the firemans carry and ace crusher combination, as Token twitched and shook... Ty took full advantage of a near dead Ace Carter, turning him over into Submission, an elevated Texas Cloverleaf.

Ten seconds, and another official decision on the part of Carter... Hughes racked up another eight points.

And as he did so... he rose victoriously, unaware that all hell was about to break loose.

"FUUK!?!?" Hughes roared in agony... feeling the cold slice of a blade draw across his back.

He turned just in time to see Donaven Winters, laughing insanely and clutching a glinting blade... Winters grabbed Ty... before spinning him and hurling him sideways off the ramp, crash landing on both Eli Flair and Ricky Wasp as they tried to get up... all three men were exhausted, and amazingly... Winters' first actions of the ManHunt picked him up 9 knockout points.

Winters smiled insanely... folding up h6is blade for a second to lock the down and out Token Weed into what he called the "AT Lock"... Token struggled furiously, before realizing that tapping out would be the best way to preserve his efforts.

Winters rose to his feet, whipping open the blade once again as an already blood covered Ace Carter staggered up... finally yanking the barbed wire from around his throat, it wasn't his lucky day however... as Donaven instantly stepped forth... standing behind him and holding the blade to his throat.

The nearest official stepped forth... as a small trickle of blood started to run from the neck of the former 21w champion.

"Stop!" The official pleaded "Take the five points... just let him go."

Winters obliged, allowing Carter to drop to his knees gasping for air.

"Points!? I don't need your points plebian... I want your BLOOD!" Winters laughed maniacally, rushing forth and cutting the official across the chest... as he fell to the ground clutching the wound... Token Weed rushed at Winters, only to be sliced across the hand.

"Mother fucker!" Token roared, falling to one knee and holding his bleeding palm.

Winters turned, folding up the blade and tucking it neatly into his belt... as Carter rushed at him with a fist... only to miss in a dazed and beaten state, giving Winters time to come from behind and drive him to the ramp with the "Big Comedown".

Ace lay out for ten, and Winters' tally was up to twenty.

"Come on then!" Winters roared "Try to bring me down... if you dare!"

They dared.

Rushing forth at once... Eli Flair, Ricky Wasp, Ty Hughes and a furious Token Weed subdued Winters... throwing wicked fists, kicks and general blows in his direction... until the blade glinted once again.

"Stay back!" Winters laughed "Stay back or I'll kill you all!"

The four men kept their distance... and watched bewildered, as Winters clambered onto the steel structure of the video wall... climbing higher and higher, into the darkness.

With Winters out of the picture... things had to change.

Unfortunately for Garvin, as his time came... he was tapping out to the firm Kaja Hajame which Nerva had locked upon him.

Garvin staggered away, coughing and spluttering... but also turning unaware into a blow that would grant Nerva yet another five to the total.

Double Touch.

Garvin's head snapped back... and he tumbled over the Asylum rim to unconsciousness on the arena floor.

Make that another five for the former Asylum champion.

Blood poured from the mouth of Garvin as he stirred on the arena floor, he was about to be joined however... as Biggs let out a massive roar on the aisle, ducking a punch from Wasp and drilling him to the steel with Retribution... a huge chokeslam which left Wasp down for ten... and gave Biggs yet another three points.

As Biggs strode back toward the Asylum, a distant battle between Flair and Token Weed came into view, but not for long.

Ruben Ross was back... scrambling up into the Asylum as Nerva rushed toward him with her fists clenched... on the outside, Biggs pulled a bloody Garvin to his feet...

As Ross back body dropped Nerva over the Asylum rim.

In her fall to oblivion... Nerva decided to take a few passengers along the way.

As the flipped through the air, she extended her legs... blasting both Biggs and Garvin in their chests with a double kick... Nerva hit the arena floor with a sickening thud as Garvin and Biggs shattered into the guard rail and slumped to the arena floor, as the official counted to ten, points flew all over the place.

Another three for Ross, but in doing so... he'd thrown Nerva to another eight.

As Ross clenched his fists and narrowed his sights back onto Eli Flair, the madness continued elsewhere.

"Okay dudes... so the first plan blew chunks... this one can't fail!"

Enrique Credibleno addressed his jobber allies as he approached the technical room, bursting through the door and emerging seconds later with a small man in spectacles.

"BEAT IT JABRONI!" Enrique roared, before turning to his friends once more.

Alright... listen and do what comes naturally.

Enrique went back into the room, and it began.

"Oh!" Janito piped up "I bloody understand this one!"

CLUNK.

Janito whacked the nerdy tech jabroni in the head, knocking him out and earning 5 points.

"I-I-I S-s-see!" Lonnie remarked "W-w-we... are being t-t-tricked by some kind of h-h--higher power!"

The rest of the goons scratched their heads.

"Uh... yeah, just knock him out you tard." Avo replied, as Lonnie complied and belted Janito in the head with his elbow.

"A-a-as you w-w-wish higher power!"

"W-w-woah! I-i-i am the c-c-chosen one!"

BQ sighed.

SMACK.

"Someone had to do it... the guy is an idiot."

"OH MY GOD... I AM THE CHOSEN ONE TOO!"

SMACK.

"Hmm... I only wanted to calm him down." Beef spoke out.

THUD.

"Sorry." Eddie Scott Poser remarked, as he dropped his sceptor and smashed Beef around the head with it.

"I'll have you know that there are absolutely no sexual relations with my cran-"

BANG.

Avo Chavez took off his fireman helment and smacked Eddie in the skull with it.

"Whatever." Avo uttered, laying down and curling up in a ball to go to sleep.

"Hey Enrique... I uh... nobody understands the plan, there's nobody here to knock me out.

OH MY GOD I AM THE MOTHERFUCKING CHOSEN ON-"

BANG.

Enrique Credibleno flattened Schitzo Tod, and claimed five points for himself.

"MOHOHOHOHOHOHOH!" Enrique roared "I AM GOD... I CONTROL ALL!"

Apparently not.

"Nah... the beard is decent, but you aren't even half as much of a prick."

Enrique turned, to find himself in the shadow of Steve Christ.

Seconds later, he was in the air and dropped on his head with Into The Void, Christ had made himself five points... but he had a long way to go if he was going to catch the leaders.

Unfortunately for Credible, Christ had all the time in the world.

No sooner had he gone down, he was back up... Christ yanked Enrique up by the hair, before lifting him up into a tombstone piledriver... and sitting down, dropping him head first onto the corridor floor.

Make that, ten points for Christ.

Christ gritted his teeth furiously... and started to pull up Credibleno once again, but as had been seen in the ManHunt many times already, other people wanted a slice of the fuckhead pie.

Christ soon found himself flying into the nearest pile of packing crates... courtesy of the fWo's Great Dragon, who made his introduction to the ManHunt in spectacular form.

Dragon quickly turned over Credibleno, locking in a Liontamer submission which quickly had him screaming and tapping out, indicating submission and giving Dragon five points in the process.

As Enrique lay flat out on the floor, Dragon pulled up Christ... looking to nail him with a wrist clutch exploder... but Christ countered, nailing Dragon with several hard elbows... before giving him a hefty shove.

... straight into Darren, and Daniel Mitchell.

But the two simply moved by, signalling their intentions for the match by tossing Dragon straight back in the direction of Christ, before making a b-line for the fuckhead of the moment, Enrique Credibleno.

Both Dream members dragged him up, before sending him to the floor with "Endless"... a duel face buster to the hard corridor floor. As blood started to leak from Enrique's face, the official counter ten and awarded both Dream members five points.

And another five quickly followed, as the two took ahold of an arm each... placing Enrique in a double fujiwara armbar, making him scream submission once again.

As Enrique gave up... the tides turned, somewhat too conveniently.

An individual not too distant from the frey, Dragon however was in no position to defend himself, he had after all... just been lifted into the air and sent through a catering table with a shattering "Into the Void".

Scratch up another five for the son of God.

He didn't get a chance to improve however, as Darren and Daniel Mitchell quickly slammed him into the nearest wall... before picking up Dragon and taking their moneys worth from him.

The masked man flew spectacularly through the air at the hands of Darren and Daniel Mitchell... who threw him spine first into the nearest fire extinguisher, which unfortunately for Dragon, was still inside a glass cabinet.

Dragon slumped to the floor amongst the broken glass for ten, and Darren and Daniel picked up another five points each... but once again, Dream had similar tactics in mind.

Daniel locked on a boston crab, just as Darren placed Dragon in a camel clutch... Dragon didn't respond to the predicament, but the official awarded Dream five points each all the same.

And then, things got interesting.

The snapping of a steel chair, as Steve Christ took both Dream members down with a chair shot that landed across both of their spines... as the two lay motionless on the floor, Christ staggered over to the already down and out Dragon, using similar tactics of those which Dream had deployed, by locking on a crossface chicken wing.

Dragon's failure to respond was once again deemed a submission, and Christ picked up yet another five on the tally.

Timing... conveniently impeccable once more.

Because just as Daniel became the fuckhead, Fall of Adam arrived on the scene.

One Lotus Coil later, they'd driven Daniel into unconsciousness... earning themselves five points each.

The duo went on however... lifting up the already unconscious Daniel, before whipping him at pace into Steve Christ, knocking him out of the chicken wing which he had on Great Dragon, and to the floor.

The two quickly went to work, setting up a nearbye table... then laying Daniel Mitchell across it.

Before picking up Steve Christ, and promptly powerboming him through both... table and Mitchell alike.

Both were down for ten, and Fall of Adam added another eight points to their personal tally.

And you will know us by the trail of the dead, the statement never seemed to accurate.

Kicking Christ out of the way... they lifted up Daniel again, before quickly clipping his knees... knocking him down onto them.

SMACK!

Purely vicious, Oswald with a kick to the chest... Gacy with a kick to the spine, Daniel sandwiched inbetween and once again left motionless on the corridor floor.

Giving Fall of Adam another five.

But the question remained... where did Darren Mitchell come into things?

He simply stood... back to the wall and eyes wide, horrified at what he was witnessing.

But strangely... finding himsekf unable to help.

Only watching... as Fall of Adam slowly dragged Daniel...

... toward a flight of stairs.

This was it, his chance to help... to make a difference.

THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD.

And he didn't.

Daniel lay motionless at the bottom of the stairs, and Fall of Adam were five points to the better once again... then, they turned to him.

Before making their way slowly over to Christ, battering him about the head with punches and knees... it appeared as though they were going to take another three points away, but nothing could be further from the truth, they were preparing him.

To be crucified, the irony.

They tossed him at the feet of Darren Mitchell, who once again had a choice.

Once again, the choice he made brought him even closer to Gacy and Oswald.

Awakening... how ironic that it rendered quite the opposite result, a sleeper and a slam later, an unconscious Steve Christ fell to the ground and Darren Mitchell made three points, thanks massively to Fall of Adam.

Come again?

Suddenly, suspicions were confirmed... something sinister was definately going down, for it seemed that someone, somewhere... was enjoying a mind game or two.

Dragon had already been the fuckhead, but his name had just been called again, Darren quickly took advantage of the fact, grabbing the groggy fWo superstar as he rose to his feet and delivering to him the same fate as Steve Christ had suffered, sleeperhold slam... five more points to Darren Mitchell.

Mind games? Who be so polite... someone was doing some good and proper headfucking.

Darren was betrayed, those who he had seemingly joined stabbed him in the back... as Fall of Adam wasted no time in picking up the other half of Dream and spiking him down onto half of the broken table they'd created earlier... ten seconds and five points later, the two nodded at each other as though satisfied... before promptly marching away.

Or at least, march away they would have done.

Yet more mind fucking.

SMACK!

"Ugly motherfuck!" Steve Christ roared, smacking Oswald around the back of the head with a mighty fire extinguisher swing... Oswald fell to the ground with a thud, blood slowly leaking from the crack in his skull... a nice five points for Christ.

"And you... I don't even have anything to say about you, what happened... did the pins fall out or something?" Christ snarled at Gacy... who balled up his fist.

"Right on time." Christ snarled, blasting Gacy across the head with the chair and taking his total up to thirty.

Elsewhere in the arena, the madness on ManHunt went on.

"I'm gonna kill you for this you prick!"

Ty Hughes tapped out with a look of regret on his face, as a bloody and beaten Ace Carter desperately tried to turn him over into his own texas cloverleaf.

"Let go you fuck... he's got to let me go, I gave!" Hughes roared at the official... who'd just awarded Carter a point for a submission.

"I never saw that anywhere in the rules, fucker." Carter snarled gritting his teeth and twisting in the hold.

"fuUK's sake!" Hughes roared in agony... as Ace wrenched in the coverleaf on the aisleway... putting Hughes in an impossible position... he was too stubborn to tap out to his own hold, and Carter sure as hell wasn't going to let go.

It needed divine intervention.

Which never came.

Hughes faded away, Carter took another point.

BLAM.

The assault on Jack Lundin continued... he'd screwed with the Asylum and now they were screwing back.

Bleeding, bruised... his air supply ran out as an official that'd been there from the start awarded Devoid a point for choking out Lundin... the official grimaced as Team Campbell members dragged him back to his feet... it'd been an ordeal, a beating that'd lasted much longer than most human beings could've taken it for.

THUD.

Classic Devoid... cold, blunt... ruthless and to the point, a solid punch int Lundin's face split his lip and sent him to the floor in a bundle, bleeding heavily... he wasn't going to make it up for ten, or twenty for that matter.

Devoid scratched up another 3 points.

And he was followed closely by Villam Ender, who wrapped a chain firmly around Lundin's throat... strangling the life out of him with it... none of it mattered however, Lundin was long gone unconscious, and the point earned by Villam paled in comparison... which explained the action he followed up with, tossing Lundin head first into the side of a parked car to pick up a further three.

Yet Team Campbell resumed their onslaught.

Krueger yanked up the bloody Lundin... and held him by the arms as Eddie Cheno sent a hard elbow cracking into his jaw.

Jack fell to the floor, Cheno earned another 3 on the tally.

But even in unconsciousness... he was given no mercy.

Maxwell yanked him up by the collar... before tossing him into the side of a car... busting his head across one of the mirrors as he went.

Lundin lay amongst the shattered mirror, and Maxwell took three points.

The Campbell crew prepared to do more damage, when Hans Krueger spoke up.

"Leave zis' fucker with me... Stranglehold are growing in numbers at ze Asylum, I vill' deal with zis' piece of shit."

Team Campbell obliged, as Cheno... Devoid, Villam and Maxwell set off toward the Asylum.

But not all of them would make it there.

As they rushed down the corridor, Maxwell narrowed his eyes... he'd seen something occuring down the hallway.

Exxa Decimal, booting the shite out of Daniel Phillips.

Maxwell paced slowly toward the situation, but the next thing he felt was a hard kick to the gut, doubling him over.

Figure Four DDT, ten seconds... three for the Man of the Hour.

Ric Chronos resumed his search for Brand Frontier, three points to the better, as he kicked his way through a door and into a corridor which lead toward the gym... he smiled to himself, witnessing a somewhat odd brawl going on... as he passed by, the fuckhead situation changed.

Right on que, as Chase blasted the man around the head with a telephone... knocking him unconscious to the floor and winning five fuckhead points, she was far from finished however, wrapping the chord firmly around his neck... she managed to strangle the life out of him, picking up another five.

Very conveniently timed once again... as Remy heard the announcement and started to struggle desperately, realizing that Chase wasn't going to unwrap the chord, he tapped out, giving her a point... but Chase still pulled the phone wire tighter.

Remy tapped again, but Chase still didn't release her grip... thus, he took more drastic measures.

THWAP.

Remy blasted Chase in the face with an over-the-shoulder punch, knocking her out on impact, he tried to untangle the wire as the official counter her for ten.

Remy struggled once more... before suddenly ramming backward several times... sending Chase spine first into the plastic phone booth... finally shattering it and falling with her to the floor, pulling the phone completely from the box.

Another ten count later, Remy's total rose to ten.

He wasn't done however... finally pulling away the chord, only for the fuckhead count go go elsewhere.

But Remy never heard the announcement... he was deaf with rage... yanking Chase up by her blonde locks... before using them to smash her head into the phone box, spilling quaters all across the floor.

As Chase slumped down for another ten count, Remy took a quater so that he could make a call in the next booth.

"Damn women, all ah' wanted was a cab." Remy uttered.

"Not all women are incapable of defending themselves." Lotus snarled, riled up.

THUMP.

Remy sent a fist hurtling into her nose, knocking her to the ground.

"Shaddup." He uttered, before placing the money in the box and dialing the numbers as Lotus lay on the floor for ten.

"She's right... you know."

WHAM.

Leroux fall to the floor, with nobody else to thank but the UK champion, Nicole Carson... who drove him across the face, knocking him out and earning a swift three points... she wasn't done however, placing the stick firm across his throat and choking him for a submission, getting another point in the process.

"I don't need your help bitch!" Lotus sneered struggling to her feet.

SMACK.

Carson sent her back down with another solid stick shot.

"No problem, I wasn't offering it." Carson uttered... going back to choking Leroux, following the prompt knockout of Lotus.

BLAM.

Chokehold broken.

By Venoma Star, who'd picked up the discarded phone line and wrapped it around Nicole's throat... Nicole promptly submitted, giving Venoma a point... but Star was far from done, as she used the wire to toss Carson head first into the ball, knocking her out.

And the carnage still wasn't over... as Venoma felt herself lifted into the air via a full nelson, before being twisted and driven into the floor with a DDT.

The Final Word, from Syphon Fission... who picked up three points.

Until he too was forced to submit.

Faith, latching onto his back and digging her nails into his throat... he quickly submitted, but she didn't release the hold... slowly pulling him to his knees and unconsciousness... gaining two points on the overall.

THWACK.

Soon, Faith and Fission were both down and out, thanks to a 360 degree spin kick landed by none other than Lotus, who managed to crack both of them about the head in one swoop, picking up six points.

"Nearly... nearly... NOW!"

egg NOG and cHEESE screamed, as they leapt out on an unsuspecting Clayton Richler, Richler and Kerrigan had split up in their search to locate the Dairy duo, but now they'd been ambushed... a few kicks and punched were followed by egg NOG's Dairytown Death Drop delivery, and a ten count which secured him three points.

egg NOG and cHEESE paused to high five.

CRACK.

CRACK.

"Dumbasses." Tony Davis uttered, as egg NOG and cHEESE slumped to the floor, giving him six points in one quick burst of aggression.

"Do the honours?" Davis said with a smirk to High Flyer... who quickly obliged, scaling up onto the top of a popcorn stand close by, before leaping off it with his finishing move... the Flying Moon Shot, nailing cHEESE dead on with it.

Three points for Flyer, V.I.A.G.R.A were happy.

Until both of them found themselves on the floor, laying motionless.

"KEKEKEKEKE! THERE WILL BE NO FALSE ADVERTISING, I HAVE MET PENSIONERS OF A HARDER CALIBRE, YOU DISGRACE THE SEXUAL AID INDUSTRY WITH YOUR VERY EXISTENCE... WHAT NEXT I ASK? GLUE AS A LUBRICANT?"

The Mysterious Birdman waddled away with six points tucked in his belt... as Flyer and Davis lay confused.

Back in the gym, Brand Frontier lay unconscious... as did Kodiak Vic Creed, until Jon Crisp staggered upon the situation.

"Ah, what do we have here... I vaguely remember both of you pieces of shit, time for some payback."

Crisp gritted his teeth, pulling up Frontier and using sheer grit and determination alone... managed to deliver an inverted sitdown powerbomb, the Icon.

Frontier was out, and Crisp was three points for the better.

"I'm the only hero around here, idiot." Crisp sneered.

Little did any of them know, that Ric Chronos was on the way.

Back in the arena... the car wreck that was Asylum side continued to erupt randomly in flames.

The tides had certainly turned for Ace Carter, when last seen... he'd made Ty Hughes submit to the Texas cloverleaf... but now he was in the very same position... tapping out as a furious Hughes wrenched in the hold as he stood in the center of the Asylum... Carter tapped out, but Hughes didn't release the hold... forcing him to tap out a second time for another point, until finally releasing the hold, but not by choice.

Because Biggs Dangsta had placed a grip firmly around his throat.

As another interesting event occured across the canvas, as Ruben Ross... massively lacking in height and weight in comparison to that of Ricky Wasp, managed to turn the beast over and lock him into a sharpshooter, Wasp was already unconscious at the hands of Biggs, but his lack of reaction was enough to give Ross the submission edge and put him up to 30 points for the match.

Just as Biggs raised Huges into the air, and drilled him down with the Retribution chokeslam... enough for another three points to his total, but Biggs kept the chokehold locked firmly around the unconscious Hughes' throat... giving the official no alternative but to award him a submission point to go with the three knockout points he'd garnered.

Biggs released his grip on Hughes, just in time to see Nerva leap off the Asylum rim and toward him... just a little too much time in fact, especially with regards to Nerva... who suddenly found herself caught in Biggs' vice like grip, he quickly drove her down into the canvas with Retribution, and took his count to eighteen.

Amazingly, Token Weed and Eli Flair continued to slug it out on the aisle, beating each other with the nearest available weaponry, as Flair wrenched a "caution" sign from the guard rail and plastered Token across his skull with it.

As the blue and blonde hair slowly stained red, Flair prepared to take another swing... but was stopped in his tracks, being raised into the air and dropped onto previously broken glass at his own expense, with an Angle Slam.

Via Jeff Garvin, the supposed original... no need to explain the ironies, but Flair was out...a ten count occured and Garvin picked up three points for his troubles.

Garvin staggered to his feet and felt the brunt of several hard Token Weed right hands... but his three points were not the only ones being scored throughout the arena.

BLAM!

Jon Crisp bounced off Brand Frontier and fell in a heap across the weight bench behind him, Kodiak Vic Creed had just used him as a projectile... tossing him at Frontier in an attempt to buy some time, but Crisp had only clipped the paragon in his doomed flight.

Brand clenched his fists and prepared to go to war with Creed once again, a man who'd just picked up three points... following Crisp's failure to stand before the ten count.

WHACK.

Chase fell back to the floor that she'd just got up from... after being sprayed in the eyes with windex and punched in the head.

"I've heard stories about you... skanky hell beast!" Blunder shuddered, shaking his head and pacing down the corridor with his first three points of the ManHunt.

CRACK.

Blunder fell to the floor, with a half broken chair wrapped around his head.

Steve Christ shook his head, too.

"Yep... I've heard stories about you too... dirty little rent boy, you should go and see the pope."

Three points for the better, Christ moved on.

Back in the arena, Biggs struggled.

Not long ago, he'd chokeslammed Nerva into oblivion... but things had changed since then, beside him lay Ruben Ross, twitching following a three point chair shot that she's blasted him with, Biggs was gasping for air, as Nerva hung from his back with a kaja hajime.

He soon gave up, but not because of Nerva.

Ricky Wasp stormed forward... swatting Nerva off the back of Biggs but clasping him around the throat seconds later, Biggs ran out of air and slipped into unconsciousness as Wasp picked up another point... but points for Wasp had ceasted to matter, he'd flipped out completely.

Wasp clambered out of the Asylum and stormed up the aisle, pushing both Jeff Garvin and Token Weed down to the steel as he passed, he hurried toward Eli Flair, who got to his feet picking shards of glass from his elbows.

Soon enough, Eli Flair's elbows were the least of his concerns...

... as Ricky Wasp lifted him up, and tossed him from the very top of the stage, by his throat down onto the broadcast area with an explosive impact.

SMMMMMMMMMMMMASH.

Eli Flair hit hard, monitors erupted... cables tangles, and the Eliminator lay motionless in the wreckage as Wasp added another three points to the cause.

Elsewhere... similar carnage unfolded.

THUD.

Hans Krueger sent a wicked right hand spiraling into Lundin's temple... the irony was that it woke Lundin up somewhat, he'd taken such a beating previously... the blow served as a wake up call.

"Zere' vill be more of zat motherfucker!" Krueger sneered, before picking up Lundin and tossing him with authority into the nearest store room... Lundin landed with a clatter, sending all manor of equipment flying in different directions.

One specific piece of equipment landed mere feet away from Lundin... and through his blood soaked vision, it glinted toward him... his excalibur.

A shovel.

Krueger stepped through the piles of varios other tools, stepladders... wheelbarrows, before finally creaping up behind Lundin... who's grasp finally took ahold of the wooden handle.

"I..."

Lundin sat up to his knees.

"Don't..."

Lunding thrust back the shovel, catching Krueger straight in the top of his skull.

"Think..."

Lundin used the shovel to push himself to his feet, drilling it into Krueger's ribs and knocking him to his knees.

"SO!"

BOOM!

The sound of a sterling shovel cracked upside the skull of Hans Krueger... who's head snapped to the side... throwing a stream of blood and a couple of teeth in the same direction.

Krueger fell to the ground, unconscious and bleeding... as Lundin staggered away with three points.

"I've dealt with your kind before, violence... it's all that you understand." Lundin sneered, sending a boot to Krueger's ribs and moving along to more battles ahead.

"Alright... I fucking give!"

Daniel Phillips roared at the top of his voice, mainly because of the Exxa Deathlock predicament which he was currently in, Exxa earned another point... but his ruthless voice snarled from behind his emotionless mask.

"Not that easy sinner, you must be punished!"

Exxa Decimal stamped his foot, crunching down on Phillips' spine as the cruiserweight tapped the floor and submitted again... throwing another point Exxa's way.

As Exxa continued to lock in the hold... he glanced over toward the general direction of Maxwell, who was being battered by a none ManHunt participant.

Chris Universal.

Or so, he thought.

Universal stopped punching at Maxwell... and raised his eyebrows.

"What... the hell?" he uttered, turning to Exxa.

"Go... found out why, I'll take care of the situation here." Exxa replied, as Universal quickly set off in the direction of the technical room.

",,, and hurry as you do, because even the most loyal of soldiers will kill one his own, for the good of the company."

As Universal, rushed down the hall... he missed Exxa's final words...

... and a flying right fist from Archangel, ducking it and desperately continuing his rush down the corridor.

The fact was, every ManHunt participant had heard the announcement... and they were now seeking the blood of the new Asylum owner, and soon enough... one of them got it.

Clutch.

SMACK!

Universal staggered back, victim of a headbutt from the Asylum T.V. champion, Providence... who swung at him with a second fist... onyl to miss and stagger into Archangel, who was still in the hunt for Universal, upon impact... Providence and Angel started to brawl... as Universal continued to rush down the corridor, now bleeding heavily from the face.

Finally, he reached the technical room... and behind the door lay not only the answer to whom had it in for him, but also the answer to whom had been fucking with the rest of the ManHunt competitors... Universal took a deep breath, before kicking the door wide open.

Come on... who the fuck else?

"Alright wanker? Enjoying your spell as fuckhead... this little computer is pert' nifty, you just stick in some numbers, and then a name... bam, insta-fuckhead."

Universal balled up his fists and rushed at Campbell, blasting him in the head with several hard rights and lefts, before knocking him out of his seat... and scrambling for the keyboard.

"Stay the fuck away from there, cunt!" Joe roared... grabbing a handfull of Universal's blonde locks and bashing his face into the desk before them, Universal let out a roar... before elbowing Joe in the ribs and slipping behind him... locking in a sleeper hold.

Joe scrambled desperately, reaching for anything and everything before him to bash Universal in the head with, he tossed a cup of steaming coffee over his shoulder but missed his collegue in doing so... as he slowly started to fade... he made one last ditch break for freedom.

He forced Universal back...

BOOM!

Straight into a filing cabinet... which shook precariously as Joe slumped forward and Universal sat across his back, maintaining the sleeper hold but failing to see the hefty metal cabinet behind them... wobbling back, and forth, and back... and forth... and forth... and f-BLAM!

The cabinet fell forth, impacting fully into the top of Chris Universal's head... he was knocked unconscious instantly... as the wreckage of papers and documents flying around slowly settled.

A few seconds passed... before the cabinet slowly started to move up and down... someone was climbing from beneath.

Universal... Campbell... Universal... Campbell... Universal...

Come on... who the fuck else?

Coughing and spluttering for air, Joe clutched his throat... before staggering to his feet and looking down at the motionless Universal, still trapped beneath the cabinet.

"Cunt!" Joe sneered, kicking him once more in the head for good luck... suddenly, a dark shadow dropped across his face... as he smiled...

... somewhat insanely.

"One year ago I made a promise." Joe uttered to himself, slowly turning to the keyboard before him "Organized chaos I called it... and that's what it is... but since then, I've proved myself to be anything but organized, and this shit is starting to tire me.

So you know what?

Fuck you." Joe scoffed to Universal.

"Fuck organization... and more importantly... fuck the system, it's CHAOS time!"

Joe cracked his knuckles, and slowly typed, one letter... two letters, and a final third.

Before hitting enter.

The system took a few seconds to pick up on the change... but finally, it reached the announcer, who quickly made the announcement.

And so it was done, the system had just come crashing down... every single fighter was worth five points, everyone was a fuckhead... all hell, was about to break loose.

Campbell picked up the keyboard, and drove it through the monitor which exploded in sparks... yanking the keyboard out, he promptly smashed it in half across his knee, sending keys flying everywhere.

"Done, and done." Joe laughed.

"Too bad... now you've done that, you can't take it back."

Campbell's eyes widened... he turned, and gupled.

Jack Lundin.

And Shovel.

Joe quickly took out his cellphone, and dialed a number.

"Yeah... boys, just turn up and do the business, I know I'm early... but chances are I won't be able to make this call in five minutes."

Joe hung up the phone and stared Lundin in his swollen, bruised eye.

"Just tell me one thing prick, why the fuck did you come back here... you knew what I'd do."

Lundin smiled.

"I just came back... to apologise."

Joe looked to the heavens.

"Bugger." He snorted, before making a rush at Lundin, only to swiftly feel the brunt of a shovel smacking him right between the eyes... Campbell fell back with blood pouring from his face, as Lundin sighed and walked away.

"Sorry." Lundin said with a bloody smile "You Brits... always trying to ice skate uphill."

Campbell lay unconscious and the official spotted it, with the new all fuckhead ruling... he awarded Lundin five points... five points which would quickly become many more.

He had a shovel and was on the rampage, seconds after stumbling onto the corridor, he walked straight into the middle of a brawl, as Providence and Archangel continued their spat, each now trying to take five points from the other.

Lundin simply decided that he would take five from each.

CRACK.

CRACK.

The harsh reality of the shovel connecting with bone once again, as Providence and Angel sprawled to the ground after feeling the wrath of a shovel blast each... ten seconds later, Lundin moved up the ladder with another ten points.

Lundin staggered further down the hall... still wielding the trusty shovel that'd steered him back into contention... suddenly, he was spun around by the shoulder.

By Miles Blunder.

"BLOOD!? Blood!!! Do you know how many germs are spread through bodily fluids!?"

CRACK!

Five more for Lundin, as Blunder fell to the floor with a thud, distributing a few body fluids of his own through a blood soaked nose, and Lundin still wasn't satisfied... he wanted more, continuing his march down the corridor... he spotted a vaguely familiar individual, with long dark hair... pacing before him.

Lundin spun Ric Chronos around, but unfortunately... he'd been beaten up on, Chronos had not.

Ric reacted fast, ducking the shovel which was flying toward his head... before snatching it out of Lundin's hands and swinging it with an almighty rage... snapping the end off across Lundin's head!

Lundin slumped on their floor, he was done for the night... he'd been assaulted, he'd taken revenge... and now he'd fallen victim to his own fatigue.

Five points for Chronos, as he took the shovel handle and slipped through a door clearly marked "gymnasium".

Straight into hell itself.

As he paced through the door... EMT's pushed past him carrying Dawn Van Dammage on a stretcher, she'd been a victim of the sheer war going on, between Brand Frontier, KVC... and Jon Crisp, who'd been caught up in the battle.

It was Crisp whom struck the first blow upon Chronos, swinging a weight bar straight across his ribs... before quickly bringing it down across his spine with a stinging whip.

Chronos fell to the ground motionless as Crisp quickly rushed back toward a battling Brand Frontier and KVC... just in time to witness an amazing moment of strength and determination by the Paragon, who lifted up Creed with all of his might, and drove him to the ground with an inverted death valley drivey... the Righteous Thunder!

Creed was out for the count and Frontier had his first five points of the ManHunt... but he had little time to celebrate... as Crisp rushed at him with fists flying.

Back in the Asylum... Team Campbell were finally asserting themselves.

Devoid sent Ruben Ross sprawling with a wicked front flip kick, sending him clattering into the Asylum mesh with blood pouring from his mouth, as he lay out for the ten and gave Devoid five points... Hans Krueger finally staggered out onto the aisle... his first act being to catch Ace Carter as he advanced toward Token Weed...straight in the side of the head with his Dresden Powerhouse crescent kick, knocking him cold for an easy five pointer... just as Token Weed staggered past him and returned the favour, blasting an advancing Jeff Garvin straight in the nose with a wicked punch... popping it in a shower of blood and picking up a further five points for himself.

Back in the Asylum... the fighters continued to reign supreme... as Eddie Cheno blasted Biggs Clearin' da funken table... kneeing him in the head on the way down for good measure, he collected yet another five points.

As Team Campbell continued to dominate, the question remained... where was Villam Ender?

It was yet to be answered... but one of his enemies, Exxa Decimal... wasn't faring too well anyway, Universal had left him to deal with Maxwell and Phillips, but he'd never returned... and in time, the two have overpowered the Stranglehold mastermind, dropping him on his head with a sick powerbomb and neck breaker combination, giving themselves each five points.

As Phillips and Maxwell stared at each other before acknowledging a nod of cooperation, the scene switched back to the gym... where all hell continued to break loose.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

Ric Chronos and Kodiak Vic Creed exchanged tired rights and lefts... unfortunately... neither of them saw the danger laying in wait.

Brand Frontier kicked Jon Crisp in the gut... doubling him over and giving himself the ample change to raise him up for a powerbomb... and powerbomb him he did, lifting him into the air, Crisp desperately tried to escape... drilling fists into Frontier's forehead, but they did no good... as Frontier tossed Crisp through the air... and right into a dueling Chronos and KVC with the Divine Right!

All three men fell to the floor in a motionless heap... as Frontier took huge leaps and bounds, taking five points from each man and shooting up the ManHunt rankings... and he had plans to do it again, just seconds later.

Frontier clambered and balanced precariously, vaulting onto the top of a nearbye gym reception desk... he took a few steps back, as the three men whom he had just felled staggered up to their feet in a dazed haze.

The Paragon rushed... and leapt insanely from the desk, ploughing through all three of the men with a completely devastating Paragon Bomb, his 269lb frame smashing through all three of the men and sending them sprawling down to the ground for another overall ten count, leapfrogging Frontier right up again... to thirtyfive points!

To the disbelief of the attending crowd... Frontier dragged himself up onto his feet... and onto the counter again! As the three gradually staggered up to their feet once more, it appeared as though lightning was about to quite literally strike twice.

Frontier rushed, Frontier leapt, but this time... all three men saw him coming.

Chronos dove to the right, Crisp dove to the left... and Creed simply stood tall, catching Frontier in mid flip and driving him headfirst into the ground with a Hangman's DDT!

Frontier lay still for the ten count, but the chaos around him continued as Creed barely had time to absorb his five points... because as he got to his feet and turned, he fell victim instantly to an amazing version of the Chronosphere... as Chronos used the reception desk to fire himself through the air and drill KVC down with it for five points of personal gain.

His situation however, was no different to that of Creed's... as soon as he stood, he fell victim of another who lay in wait, being lifted quickly onto John Crisp's shoulders and driven down onto the floor with the inverted Icon powerbomb, Crisp lay exhausted... as he picked up five points.

Ditto on the Crisp situation... only this time another fWo superstar had joined the frey.

Great Dragon.

And the Dragon's wrath... a cobra clutch sleeper hold quickly took Crisp down to the floor, and after a few seconds of delay... he promptly tapped out to it, Dragon quickly released his hold... but he was on a roll... partaking something that'd been a favourite in the ManHunt of 2002, scoring multi points.

And it appeared as though Dragon was to score the biggest bundle of all.

He leapt onto the reception desk, and sprung from it with an amazing Asai moonsault, landing across all four of his fWo collegues in a sheerly amazing moment, from top to bottom, his upper body landing upon Frontier and Creed, and his lower body landing square on Crisp and Chronos.

He lay atop of them exhausted, as a nearbye official made a count, skyrocketing his point total to thirty.

As the fWo superstars lay battered and bruised, fighters in the Asylum continued to hound Stranglehold.

Nerva readied herself... as a groggy Biggs Dangsta slowly staggered up to his feet, she swiftly rushed in and landed a devastating double blow... but not the usual double touch.

Nerva rushed forward, first driving her knee firmly into Biggs' crotch, before catching him with a rising double knee to the face as he lurched over, he crashed back to the canvas as Nerva's points tally grew to a solid thirty seven.

But then, the animals started to turn on one another.

Devoid was the first, grabbing a handfull of Nerva's hair and slamming her jaw first into the Asylum rim... but he was soon joined, as Hans Krueger... never one of Nerva's greatest admirers... helped him to lift her into the air and toss her over the Asylum rim... spine first through what remained of the announcers table!

Nerva was down and out for ten, and Devoid along with Hans Krueger both picked up five points for one another.

But now, the fighters of the Asylum were shining through in their true respective lights.

Krueger and Devoid turned... only to be met with the cold sting of solid steel.

CRACK.

CRACK.

Token Weed, drilling each man in the head with a chair shot the likes of which would make the devil cry, they fell to the ground in a heap and Token found himself ten points for the better... but still not satisfied.

Turned, spotting an advancing Eddie Cheno with fists clenched... he threw the chair at him, forcing him into a fatal error.

Cheno caught it, Token leapt...

Pump Kick.

CRRRRRRRASH!

Eddie bounced to the canvas in a heap dropping a foot imprinted chair with him as he went, he too was out, and Token Weed had clambered another five points up the rankings... sending his total to fifty three.

Just as Token Weed's trail of destruction came to a close, Ricky Wasp's began.

He snatched up Token by the blood stained hair, kicking him in the crotch and lifting him into a powerbomb... not of the ordinary style however, as he tossed Sean Williams over the Asylum rim and down spine first onto the unforgiving guard rail, Token's back snapped sickeningly as he landed, and he slumped into the crowd, potentially broken in half.

Make that five for the monster.

Soon to be followed by another ten.

Ace Carter and Jeff Garvin staggered down the aisle, both bleeding and bruised themselves, they hopped into the Asylum and stood not a single chance... as Wasp rushed forth like a bull at the colour red, goring them both hideously into the Asylum rim.

Down and out, Wasp was another ten points to the good.

And was all for tge spirit of snatching his points, ten at a time... as Devoid and Krueger stumbled to their feet, they met the same fate as their Stranglehold opposition, gored like careless matadors straight into oblivion, both men down for yet another ten count.

But Ricky Wasp had overlooked a crucial foe... Biggs Dangsta.

Biggs slowly rose up in the background... clutching in his hand the focal point of every fan.

A knife.

Wasp turned, staring Biggs dead in the eye.

"Try to cut me like you did before, you dumb nigger."

Biggs' eyes grew wide.

He rushed at Wasp, but was held back by Ruben Ross, Ace Carter and Jeff Garvin... all of whom had managed to stagger up to their feet just in time to stop Biggs, who swung furiously... having to watch Wasp slowly vanish through the crowd.

Biggs shoved Ross away, then Garvin... the Carter, but just as though the Stranglehold appeared as though it would implode, the saving grace strode down the aisle.

Exxa Decimal.

Exxa clambered up into the Asylum... instantly pulling the knife from the hand of Biggs and convincing him that there were other ways to unleash his rage.

Eddie Cheno, Hans Krueger and Devoid... wrong place, wrong time.

As they lay flat on the canvas, Jeff Garvin, Ace Carter, Ruben Ross, Biggs and Exxa... formed a plan.

As they did so... the Ender finally made his presence felt.

Clayton Richler fell to the balcony floor with a thud... he'd just been knocked through the curtains by Brand Frontier and a heart punch, which knocked him out and took Frontier's point total to forty.

Frontier was soon staggering however... as Chronos rushed through the curtain, driving him with several hard right hands... Jon Crisp and KVC soon followed, spilling through the curtain and exchanging a few blows of their own, finally followed by Great Dragon.

As the mass of fWo superstars brawled closer and closer to the edge of the balcony, Villam Ender stepped out from the shadows... siezing his chance to change the face of ManHunt completely.

He lunged forth... and with one gigantic shove, knocked Dragon into the rest of his fWo collegues, the crowd in the arena exploded with shock, as Brand Frontier... Jon Crisp, KVC and Great Dragon all fell at least fiften feet through the air, into the gatherings of fans below.

A cool twenty points for Villam, and four unconscious fWo superstars laying out on the arena floor.

But what of Ric Chronos?

He hung on, onto the balcony for dear life... finally scrambling back up, he got straight to business... snapping up a steel chair and blasting Clayton Richler over the head with it as he tried to stand.

Villam Ender heard the connection of steel and bone, and quickly turned... only to be met by the same fate, a kick to the gut and a figure four DDT onto the chair.

Chronos clambered to his feet and dusted himself off, peering over the balcony... he surveyed the damage... and was content, he had nothing left to do in the ManHunt.

He was wrong.

First of all, he picked up ten points for keeping down both Villam Ender and Clayton Richler for ten seconds.

Second of all... he found himself flying head first from the balcony straight to the same grizzly fate which had met the other fWo wrestlers, a regret for not keeping Villam down for any longer than 10 seconds.

"Fucking wrestlers." Villam sighed... pacing away from the carnage and back onto the corridor.

Where he was greeted by more madness.

"Y... M... C... A! It's fun to stay at the Y... M... C... A!"

Enrique Credibleno, Lonnie Clark, Avo Chavez and Schitzo Tod shook their bodies and danced along to the beat.

Villam shook his head, and cracked his knuckles.

But he didn't need to move... instead, he simply stood... wondering if someone had slipped crack in his pre match vodka.

A gigantic bird rushed onto the scene, promptly pecking Avo, Credibleno, Lonnie and Tod on their heads, knocking all of them out.

"KAW! THERE ARE DESIGNATED AREAS FOR THESE KINDS OF DISPLAY, LIKE CERTAIN BARS... AND SPECIFIC PARADES, I FIND MYSELF OUTRAGED AT SUCH A SHOW OF DISRESPECT TO THOSE WHO WISH TO MAINTAIN A HEALTHY AND NONE TAMPERED WITH ANAL STATE... THIS IS-"

CRACK!

Villam blasted The Mysterious Birdman with a wicked punch to the beak, just to be sure that it wasn't all a terrible dream.

Birman fell to the ground in a heap of feathers.

"This place gets more fucked up by the week." Villam sighed, continuing his march down the halls.

Heading back to the cage, it was far from the most level fray witnessed.

In the centre of the cage, their backs against eachother and their eyes searching for escape… Krueger, his hands extended and ready for violence.

Cheno, his mouth agape at the adversary before him.

Devoid, his leg slightly raised but his face harbouring no expression.

What is this unconfrontable enemy that they faced?

Stranglehold.

<I>All of them.</I> Surrounding Team Campbell like bloodthirsty wolves, each one looking increasingly frenzied… their leader and chaplain, Exxa Decimal, raised his hand high in the air.

The other Stranglehold members looked towards him, pleading for a sign to release their frustrations…

”Let it begin” was all that it took, and the battle was on.

Biggs struck first, snatching both Cheno and Krueger by their throats and drilling them to the canvas with a double dose of Retribution, ten seconds passed... and he was ten points to the power.

As the two lay motionless on the canvas, Ace Carter clambered up onto the Asylum rim... although battered and bruised, he still managed to fly off with a guillotine legdrop which caught both men across their throats, another ten... and ten for Carter in the process.

But the Sranglehold point taking was not yet over.

Exxa quickly turned Cheno over into the Exxa Deathlock... as did Jeff Garvin with Hans Krueger, Carter quickly took further advantage of the situation, by stooping and locking Krueger into a crossface hold.

Krueger had no choice but to submit, and so promptly did... giving both Garvin and Carter five points.

They released the hold just as Cheno submitted, adding another five to Exxa's cause.

Then a brainstorm, Garvin quickly scooped up Devoid, before throwing him straight back into a Decimal Destroyer, tandem style.

Devoid was out for the count, Garvin had another five to his name... as did Exxa.

But the teamwork by Exxa and Garvin was still not over.

Hans Krueger and Eddie Cheno each lay face down, giving Decimal and Garvin perfect chances to lock on submissions at each end, with an Exxa Deathlock on each leg, Decimal had both Krueger and Cheno in his submission hold, but surely two of them would be able to power out... well they would have, were it not for the armbar which Garvin was applying to each of them.

Once again, Cheno and Krueger were left with little choice other than to submit... and both Exxa and Garvin picked up ten points each.

Releasing their holds for a moment... Stranglehold regrouped across the Asylum... slowly allowing the tortured souls of Team Campbell to stagger to their feet and attempt to form a game plan.

Elsewhere... the opportunist was about to strike.

Providence stumbled across a goldmine, laying unconscious on the floor... Avo Chavez, Enrique Credibleno, Schitzo Tod, Lonnie Clark... and some guy dressed as a big chicken.

Providence wasted no time, in moving from limp body to limp body, applying The Cleansing on each of the five and earning five submission points on each occasion, he'd quickly shot from having nothing... to a steady 25 points under his belt.

As Providence moved away from the scene, another set of scavangers made their move.

Maxwell and Phillips.

Goldmine.

The jobbers were staggering their way back to their feet, but the two didn't waste much time... they quickly and efficiently disposed of Avo, by picking him up... right up... and driving his head through one of the ceiling tiles, dropping him back to the floor out cold and surrounded by plaster, a quick five points for each man.

They then moved onto Credibleno, disposing of him just as quickly by dumping the local trash can over his head and delivering a lariat from each side, knocking him flat out amongst a pile of trash for another five to their names.

And it appeared as though they were making a hobby of it.

Schitzo Tod was next, the method of his disposal quite ironic... as a red indian, he was lifted onto Maxwell's shoulders totem pole style as Phillips climbed onto a nearbye table and bulldogged him off to the hard ground, knockout... five points each.

Lonnie Clark slowly tried to crawl out of the room, but quickly found himself on his knees... with both Phillips and Maxwell's fists hovering an inch away from his face.

"I-i-i submit!" Lonnie stuttered.

Five points each for Maxwell and Phillips.

They looked at each other.

CRACK.

And knocked him out, for another five.

They turned and peered across the room, spotting The Mysterios Birdman pecking amongst the trash surrounding Enrique.

"Wonder if he can fly." Phillips grunted.

"Ten bucks says no." Maxwell replied... as the two looked at each other.

"Deal."

Ten seconds later, The Mysterious Birdman flew off the very same balcony which the fWo superstars had flown from previously, only now... the fans had moved away, leaving him with nothing but floor to land on.

And then they spotted Clayton Richler, staggering to his feet.... but not for long, as Maxwell swiftly nailed him in the jaw with a spinning roundhouse kick, putting him out for the count.

Phillips moved over to Richler, but Maxwell soon found himself in trouble.

SMASH!

He'd been grabbed and thrown headfirst through the nearest window, landing with a bone shattering crunch in a conference room on the other side, Phillips turned to see Drake Kerrigan dusting off his hands and smiling at the five points he'd just made.

Oh. Hell. NO!

Phillips snapped, snatching up a regular wooden chair... and promptly smashing it straight over Kerrigan's head... knocking him flat out cold.

Or... almost flat out.

"You'll fucking pay for that." Kerrigan snarled.

"The hell!? STAY DOWN!"

Phillips swung again... this time with a single leg of the chair which remained in his hand... catching Kerrigan in the head and again keeping him down for ten.

Proud of his achievement, he never saw Clayton Richler coming.

Richler sprinted, vaulting spectacularly from the back of Avo Chavez as he struggled on his hands and knees... he corkscrewed through the air, landing dead on Phillips with a huge impact, sparking him out in the process.

As Richler's point total grew by five... he revived his team partner, and the two lined up Phillips for total destruction.

Kerrigan lifted Phillips up, and powerbombed him down to the hard floor with a thud, seconds later... Richler flew from the top of a nearbye vending machine, catching him across the neck with a legdrop.

Ten seconds passed, and the two won a further five points each but during the two seconds... they'd repositioned themselves exactly as they were.

Kerrigan dragged up Phillips and drilled him with another powerbomb, as Richler sprung with yet another legdrop!

Ten seconds passed, same result again.

Richler caught his breath, as Kerrigan mercilessly lifted Phillips again and completed a triple powerbomb, drilling him to the floor with a thud.

The two celebrated, but it was short lived.

PHWOOOOOOOOOSH!

The sound of a fire extinguisher blasting both of them... the Pain & Suffering duo staggered around blinded, unable to stop Providence from driving them each across the skull with the extinguisher, knocking them down and out to acquire a quick and easy ten points.

Back in the Asylum... Stranglehold and Team Campbell continued to wage war, albeit a numerically unfair one as Exxa dived straight towards his closest nemesis in Cheno, only to be fended away by Cheno’s rapid punches to the shrouded face of Decimal. Cheno’s triumph was soon relinquished however as Ruben Ross leapt up onto his back and began pummelling his skull with ferocious rights.

Cheno tried his best to maintain his vertical base with all 216 pounds of Ruben hanging from his frame, but when Garvin dropkicked the unlucky stoner in the face, it was too much to handle and he fell flat on his face.

Krueger was not faring much better either, his neck hung over the cage whilst the youth sensation Ace Carter hammered his spine and kidneys with a steel chair. Krueger’s vital organs were saved by an intervening Devoid, who’s swift feet connected with the chair and sent it crushing into the fragile nose of Carter. Devoid’s sins would not be ignored as Biggs charged forth, grabbing the, by Biggs’s standards, minuscule warrior by his throat and hoisting him into the air, squeezing his windpipe with his mammoth hands.

Cheno staggered to his feet, a dazed, bemused look etched on his face, only to be sent tumbling out of the cage by a vicious lariat from Garvin. As if the damage caused by tumbling over the steel to the concrete below was not sickening enough, Exxa Decimal then claimed vengeance for the blood seeping from beneath his mask…

In the most scintillating way imaginable. As Cheno groggily staggered upwards, Exxa took run forwards and <I>flew</I> over the Asylum rim, turning in mid-air and connecting with a stinging boot to Cheno’s face that looked like it had thrust into the world from the gates of hell.

Needless to say, Cheno was forced soaring into the air and onto the ringside barricade, maintaining his vertical stance not by choice but by the steel bars suspending him.

“Oh, my…” Exxa laughed into the microphone he had uncovered as he leapt back into the cage. Hans Kruger lay limp over the edge of the cage, blood trickling down the steel mesh… whilst the equally slaughtered Devoid lay on the mat under the feet of Biggs, gasping for air. “It seems that we… the wrestlers… have outfought the fighters. Now the next logical step would be for you, the fighters… to prove your prowess by outwrestling… we, the wrestlers.”

Biggs and Garvin dragged the limp body of Krueger into the centre of the ring, before picking him up on their shoulders. Biggs laughed with glee, as Exxa Decimal leapt up onto the cage and clotheslined the German to the mat. The fans erupted with boos as Hand was spiked, hard, into the canvas from such a huge height. A ten count later, and Exxa Decimal was three points the merrier. The fans once again became a hurricane of boos and cuss words, finally culminating in a deafening cry of…

“Bull, Shit”
“Bull, Shit”
“Bull, Shit”
“Bull, Shit”

Their pleas for someone to interrupt this feeding frenzy were ignored, as Ruben then dragged Devoid to his feet… and swung him.

Spinned him.

Dropped him… with the Ratings Spike.

Face-first, Devoid was planted onto a steel chair. Chalk up another three points… this time for The Black Plague.

“Bull, Shit”
“Bull, Shit”
“Bull, Shit”
“Bull, Shit”

”Yes, that’s right, motherfuckers! Bullshit! These are your atrocious excuses for fighters, lying in their own blood, face-down with a mouth full of Stranglehold’s dick!” Ruben cackled. As he did so, Garvin hurled Devoid out of the cage… and turned his attention back to Krueger.

It was a mass skullfuck. Team Campbell had no hope… not with these odds.

Devoid was raised into the air, suspended high in the sweat-tinged atmosphere, by Biggs’s single hand… before being spun and flung out of the cage with a denting Chokeslam from the mammoth.

Another ten count. Another round of bullshit chants.

Who the fuck cares?

It was another three points that Team Campbell sure as hell weren’t getting back.

“Bravo. Bravo!” Exxa smiled through his faceless black mask.

Stranglehold, for this night, truly did own the Asylum.

The end.

What? You mean that’s the end?

<I>Oh, fuck, no.</I>

The arena lights flickered on and off momentarily, and the video wall became a mass of “010110” digits.

Between the numbers came flashes…

Flashes of men bleeding, being mutilated, dying. Men fighting for their lives inside the confines of a filthy dirty steel cell. Men being hung, men being decimated with deadly weaponary… men being <I>emasculated</I> with knives.

Men being shot.

Men dying.

Then, the lights went back to normal. The video wall stopped displaying the imagery of violence, and Stranglehold were left, alert and confused in the ring. After several seconds, they began to whisper amongst themselves…

LIGHTS OFF.

False sense of security? You betcha. The video wall now depicted three letters, and you know what they were. Oh wait, you don’t. Well, I’ll tell you what they were.

<b> “TFZ” </b>

The PA system began to blast police sirens, then the voice spoke…

“UNITED BY VIOLENCE, DIVIDED BY DEATH.”

The fans erupted into cheers, because at the top of the ramp, standing amongst the blaring guitars of American Hedcharge’s “Just So You Know”… were the saviours of fighting.

The Freak.

John C. Willis.

Keegan Carrahar.

Tapestry.

Splink.

…The Zone were in the house. Without any further ado, they charged down the ramp and into the cage. Behind them trailed a whole entourage of lackeys, dragging dumpsters down to the cage, full of garbage and weaponry.

Stranglehold stood perfectly still, as The Zone clambered into the cage, one by one.

Stand-off.

The Zone members wore TFZ-emblazoned T-shirts. But who’s side was their bread buttered on, so to speak? Ross was quick to ask…

“Well, big hardmen? Are you with them…”

Crowd cheered.

“Or with us?”

Crowd booed the house down.

Ruben extended the microphone to The Freak, who snatched it away and slowly lifted it to his lips…

The fans were in silence. Stranglehold were in silence. The Zone were in silence. Team Campbell, watching from the outside through semi-conscious eyes… was silent.

“Do you fear us, Mr. Ross?” The Freak pondered aloud in his dark, raspy voice.

Ruben looked at The Freak sideways, as if he was insane, before replying: “Stranglehold fear nobody.” The other Stranglehold members shuffled and smiled with arrogance, to the fans’ jeers.

“Well then we are seeing eye to eye. We are grown men, talking in a grown-up manner; we are mutual. There is no fear between us. Therefore… shall I and my comrades put our differences with Wrestling aside and aid you in your cause?”

Ross looked at his fellow Strangleholders warily… as The Freak extended his hand.

“…Yes…” Ruben answered. He grabbed The Freak’s hand and shook it… much to the fans’ displeasure.

The Freak and Ruben continued shaking… until Ruben’s face began to turn red and he began to struggle desperately to free his hand.

The Freak yanked him up close and personal…

And with his free hand… yanked away his TFZ shirt. With him, the other TFZ members revealed where their allegiance lay.

Underneath… the Fuckhead logo.
<I>Asylum</I>.

“Correct answer- No.” The Freak growled, as Ross was dragged into The Freak’s clutches and powered into the ground, headfirst with the Anti-Nature cradled DDT!

The fans burst into thunderous applause and cheers as The Zone stormed into Stranglehold, tearing the wrestlers apart as Ruben was counted down for the full ten. Exxa tried to revive his downed combatant, but was given a cracking kick to the spine from Carrahar and slammed, ferociously face-first into the rim of the cage. Keegan then turned his attention to Garvin, smashing The Original’s nose with an almighty headbutt to the face, before splattering his bloodied features into the mat with a scalding face-first scissor kick.

The man with the TRUE Fighting World Championship around his waist, John C. Willis, went directly for Biggs. Dangsta instantly got in the muscular, bestial-like man’s face, only to be socked with such a merciless punch to the jaw that he was sent flying, violently, into the cage door. Upon tumbling to the outside, Willis followed suit and violently cracked Biggs’s head against the steel ringsteps, before pulling his stunned antagonist upwards and picking up a stray chair from the dumpster. With Biggs’s skull rested against the stairs, Willis brought the steel chair down, sandwiching his enemy’s head in a deadly vice of metal.

And again.

And again.

And a few more fucking times, okay?

TMM and Slapnutz, leaving their comedy behind for the time being, took the fight straight to Exxa Decimal, each member of the infamous Splink taking one of the Chaplain’s arms and slamming him into the steel fencing. On the rebound, however, Exxa delivered a dazzling double-clothesline take down to both men.

Exxa had a big mouth underneath that façade, and it gets him into big trouble.

Taking a little bit too much time to trash talk could get you killed in The Zone. And by the time Exxa turned back around to survey the destruction he’d caused…. He got a Slapnutz-assisted shovel straight to his head. Exxa fell backwards, and straight into a wheelbarrow being pushed by TMM.

Remember when you were little and you played silly games in trolleys?

FLASHBACK.

Exxa is hurled from the cage, with a 50-pound wheelbarrow landing directly on top of him… and a disgruntled Eddie Cheno, now awake and well aware of the beating he suffered earlier… directly above him with a steel chair...

The Freak and Keegan proved that even they can work as a team, as an attempted blindside attack from Jeff Garvin went awry thanks to a double-team high-kick combo from the pair. Garvin was promptly thrown to the cage by the Geordie Genius, and gifted with three choice fists, each one smacking into the Original’s jaw with the speed and force of a locomotive.

The Freak, having just got back from the dumpster… pointed to Garvin.

The fans roared, because this time… the red-haired daredevil had in his alternative hand… a <I>sledgehammer</I>.

The first shot sent Garvin spinning, lurching sideways and halfway over the cage, whilst the second and third, each to the Wrestler’s back… not only elicited cheers of joy from the fans but girlish screams of agony from Jeff.

Keegan slipped on his brass knuckles…

Turned Garvin around…

BAMTHWACKWOLLOPmotherfuckers.

The Five Knuckle Shuffle… no, not the sinful act made famous by a boy called Woj, but the Prince of Palermo’s finisher… dispatched Garvin to the outside, landing in a dumpster full of garbage and junk.

Oh yeah… and also knocked him, the FUCK out, for ten.

Chalk another one up for the good guys?

Not just yet. Ruben Ross, still rubbing his head from the vicious Anti-Nature witnessed earlier, barrelled straight into The Freak and sent the Original Outcast collapsing into the very same dumpster. A few stinging lefts from Keegan knocked the spittle from Ross’s mouth, but was not enough to stop Ross using his newfound weapon… an axe.

BAM.

Upside the head, Keegan is out for the count.

BAM.

Was that Ross using his axe again?

No. That was John C. Willis belting Ross upside the face with his BARE HAND.

Ross, still confused from having been dizzied so enormously by a simple blow to the temple, was ripe for the picking…

Willis picked the former fWo Champion up in a hangman’s backbreaker. He ran forward… and dropped him headfirst, onto the chair used earlier.

You know what Willis calls that move?

<b>LAMB TO THE SLUAGHTER.</b>

Meanwhile, on the other side of the cage, Splink had successfully posted Ace Carter’s nose to the other side of his face… leaving him open for Tapestry to take a run, jump… and using Ace’s leg and shoulder, deliver a solid boot to the face… Invictus Fier Capedorium 2.

Another knockout. Another killing blow delivered by the men and women known across the united states for being <I>killers</I>.

Another explosion of cheers, as the fans jumped to their feet in celebration.

All six Zone members soon found their way into the cage once more… and John C. Willis brought his new friend. Biggs.

Keegan pulled a set of handcuffs from his shorts, and raised them in the air for the whole crowd to see. TMM and Slapnutz each had a shovel in hand… and the plan became all the more apparent.

Biggs would be the sacrificial lamb of the night.

His hands soon bound to the Asylum rim by the interlocking steel halo of the cuffs, and his arms spread wide apart, Biggs could only watch through groggy eyes as The Zone closed in on him.

TMM and Slapnutz… double shovel shot to the face, spattering Biggs’s blood across the mesh. Tapestry… a spinning savate kick, connecting with Biggs’s jaw and spinning his head practically 180°. Keegan… a cracking right fist, clocking Biggs’s nose across his features. The Freak… a kick to the face with a chair thrown between he and his target, hammering the steel into Biggs’s skull.

Who was the last to strike?

John C. Willis.

With the subtlety of a jackhammer, Willis grabbed either side of Dangsta’s head and smashed his own forehead into his face.

Headbutt… after headbutt… after headbutt, until there was no blood left to be bled.

“Sorry about our behaviour gents, I wholeheartedly apologize for kicking your world-class cretin carcasses. I really am ashamed of myself for being a world and a half harder than you Jacksey-jamming jockeys.” Keegan laughed, sarcastically into his microphone, before passing it to The Freak…

“As my ally in Keegan put so quaintly in his somewhat… eccentric… manner, you men are not fighters. FIGHTERS are those that have the menace of fatality looming over them every time they step into the cage. FIGHTERS are in a constant struggle between good and evil.

“We aren’t at this point to engage in petty disputes. We’re unquestionably not in this enclosure to start a verbal lashing. We’re here… to produce our wealth. We’re here… to defend our livelihood. We’re here… to kill you…

“All.”

The crowd exploded with cheers, as The Freak finished The Zone’s declaration of war, before throwing the microphone to the towering, hulking frame of the Fighting Zone champion… John C. Willis.

“I don’t give speeches… I kill people.”

Simple?

Yes.

Sending the crowd into a screaming, roaring frenzy?

Yes.

“And the next person to put ONE foot in this fucking cage… the next WRESTLER to try his luck with me… <I>US</I>… dies. Simple, isn’t it? We’re defending this fucking Asylum… to the death.”

So, what did the fans think of this outright warning of death?

“FIGHT-ING-ZONE!!”
“FIGHT-ING-ZONE!!”
“FIGHT-ING-ZONE!!”
“FIGHT-ING-ZONE!!”

That’s what.

Eddie Cheno, Hans Krueger and Devoid scrambled back into the mesh to fight alongside The Zone… and it sure as hell was going to be a long night.

As they Asylum's strength grew to all new levels back in the center of things, the outskirts remained any man's ground.

THUD.

THUD.

Remy Leroux decked both Syphon Fission and Venoma Starr with versions of his BlakHart Punch, picking up a cool ten points but failing to see the danger looming behind him.

Archangel.

And the most devastating series of moves ever unleashed.

Retribution, a front faced gutwrench DDT sent Leroux head first into the floor with a thud, ten seconds passed... Archangel picked up five points, but he still hadn't released Leroux, he dragged him back up.

CRUNCH.

And dropped him with a dragon sleeper into a reverse DDT, an angel driver.

Ten seconds... five more points... THWACK!

Vindication, a chokeslam into a backbreaker which was held... Leroux was roaring in agony, and the official had no choice but to give Angel yet another five points.

And finally, Vengeance... an eye claw with a soft palate nerva hold, Remy Leroux slipped out of the realm of the conscious, and Archangel's point tally grew to 20.

It would take a monster, to stop this monster.

A monster indeed.

Look no further, than Syphon Fission.

Fission exploded with power, lifting the huge frame of Archangel into the air and dropping him through the nearest open table with a stiff death valley driver, Archangel wasn't getting up... and five points were on their way to Fission.

Unfortunately for Remy Leroux, he was the next available target... and he found himself quickly dragged into the air by Fission, who swiftly locked him into a full nelson, picking him into the air and twisting the hold int a wicked DDT!

The Final Word, again.

Leroux was out for the count.

And soon enough, those surrounding would be too.

Faith rushed at Fission, trying to get the upper hand on him as he struggled to his feet, but he swiftly ducked underneath her right hand swing... nailing her insanely as she spun with a tremendous super kick to the chin.

Faith flew back, hitting the wall and slumping down it in an unconscious state at the hands of Syphon's Sure Shoot.

Syphon racked up another five points... and continued to defend himself from attacks spawning from all directions, the next one coming from yet another new fighter stepping onto the scene to pick at the bones.

Pestilence.

But what he was picking at was far from bones, he was Syphon Fission... the muscle, the blood... and the rage all came part and parcel.

Pestilence threw several punches, but in no time at all... Fission had subdued him, finally putting him to a ten count rest with a massive Mercury Exploda.

Pestilence lay flat out on the conrete as Fission once again powered to his feet and dusted himself off... just in time to see Lotus flying toward him with a spinning heel kick.

Caught... and quickly tossed in the general direction of a large stack of tables... with an insane crash, Lotus hit them... before scrambling across the floor, a second too late however, as the pile slowly toppled over and onto her, burying the women's champion beneath.

Make that another five for Fission... and he was more than prepared to take some more... yanking up one of the fallen tables before steadily setting it on an angle against the wall... he then set his sights on a woman whom he would be more than happy to put to an end.

Venoma Star.

Fission yanked her up by the hair... before doubling her over, lifting her into the air... and giving her a farewell note.

"Women, only good for two things... fucking and... fucking <i>up</i>."

Venoma suddenly lunged forth, gouging Fission in his eyes and prompting from him a roar of agony as she spoke out.

"You forgot the third!" Venoma snarled, suddenly flipping back and tossing Fission over with a powerful hurricanranna... sending him head first through the table propped against the wall with a shattering crunch.

"Fucking back!" Venoma roared, getting to her feet and clasping her fists as the fighters which Fission had previously broken apart closed in on her.

But it was one whom he had spared that struck the first blow.

Chase leapt onto Venoma's back... yanking at her hair and generally trying to pull it from her head... as Chase did so, Remy Leroux balled up his fists... preparing to despatch both women with a quick couple of shots.

Denied.

Calling our Fathers, Pestilence locked Leroux into a cobra clutch, yanking him down to the ground and sinching it in... giving him little choice but to submit and allow Pestilence to take five quick points from him.

As Pestilence continued to tighten the hold, Venoma finally rid herself of Chase... grabbing her by the hair and snapping her over the shoulder, before delivering a stiff boot to the side of her head as she sat, knocking her out cold.

Venoma stuck twice as quickly, quickly flipping forward onto Remy Leroux and Pestilence, who were still entangled thanks to Pestilence's cobra clutch, precision never had a finer example, as Venoma's heels connected with the skulls of each man... knocking them both out in one swoop.

Venoma scurried up to her feet as the dominant woman... a position which was about to change.

THWAP.

Venoma fell to the floor in a heap, blood pouring from her temple with regards from Nicole Carson... and her nightstick.

As Venoma lay out cold on the floor... she may have been in the best place, as a fuming Syphon Fission unfolded himself from within the table that Venoma had put him through, with a snarl on his face... he turned, only to be bettered by a woman for the second time.

The Devil's Due.

Carson swept Fission by the knee with her nightstick, knocking him flat on his back... but she was not finished, quickly holding the stick so that the length spanned her forearm, giving her a perfect chance to drop and elbow... and with it, the end of the stick, right into Fission's face.

Scratch up ten points for the U.K. champ.

And on she went.

As Remy Leroux and Pestilence also found themselves bested by a woman for the second time... not even able to stand up to their feet... as in one swinging motion, Carson blasted them both across their heads with her nightstick... which was proving once more to be an efficient tool of destruction.

As Faith stumbled up to her feet... Carson narrowed her eyes... preparing yet another shot which would take her point tally up even further, little did she know, she was to be interrupted.

Static on her radio suddenly kicked into a transmission.

"Nicole, we've found Roger... you need to get to the roof right now, he's asking for you... says he'll jump if you don't show up."

Nicole faced a dilemma... before her stood a chance to progress, to become a more formidable Asylum fighter and to prove her worth, but on the roof... perhaps her only chance of love, was about to die.

"Fuck!" Carson screamed, before turning and quickly rushing toward the nearest stairwell.

Faith shook off the cobwebs, almost struggling to believe that Carson hadn't hit her... she quickly went to work, snatching up Chase as she staggered to her feet... quickly putting her back down where she'd come from with a completely vicious Myzery DDT.

Faith wasn't wasting time either... from one Cajun to the next, she moved forth... snatching Remy Leroux by a handfull of hair and quickly issuing the same blow, leaving him sprawled out on the floor.

Faith glared at the downed individuals around her... before stopping her head with a jerk, standing nose to nose with a man who'd been presumed long since vanquished.

"YOU!" Faith snarled, as Miles Blunder folded his arms.

And then... Faith made a mistake, a mistake which rendered shocking results.

She spat, hitting Blunder in the face.

Blunder's veins bulged... and he let out a scream which echoed through the Garden, bringing everything to a standstill... a scream of sheer horror, as though he'd just been infected with every virus, disease and affliction known to man.

"I'LL... KILL... YOU... ALL!" Blunder exploded, spraying Faith in the eyes with windex and making her the first example... with a J-cloth DDT!

Faith was counted down... as Blunder's breakdown continued... fighters surrounding him quickly froze, to behold the madness before them... as he started to spray himself in the face with the windex.

"It'll be ok! The germs will all be gone now... everything will be fine and swell... fine and swell!"

Blunder freaked out again.

"I'm going to die! DIE!" He screamed, rushing forth with fists flying, catching Pestilence in the head with one and knocking him flat out, before spinning and cracking Venoma around the head with what was left of the Windex bottle, as she fell to the ground... he fixed his glare on Syphon Fission... lifting a piece of the table that Fission had previously been slammed through... and smashing it across his skull!

But the Blunder flipout was far from over, behind him... he caught a glimpse of Remy Leroux and Chase cooperating for once, both picking up a table and setting it... ready to put someone through.

Blunder presumed that he was to be the victim... and screamed again, before rushing and vaulting from the table, catching both of them on the way down with a double J-Cloth DDT!

The lay motionless as Blunder hopped to his feet still red with rage, his alertness was at an all time high however... and it needed to be, as a fuming Archangel rushed toward him with fists clenched... he did the impossible, raising a man far heavier and taller than himself into the air, twisting... and drilling him through the table with Hung Out To Dry!

Madness, as Angel lay motionless amongst the wreckage... Blunder continued to go insane, snapping up a steel chair in his hands.

CRACK.

CRACK.

CRACK.

WWE's ruthless aggression didn't have a patch on that of Miles Blunder, three chairs shots... each impacting the skulls of Faith, Pestilence and Lotus as she scrambled from beneath the tables which had fallen upon her earlier.

Make that another twenty points for the man who was Blunder by name... but at the time, certainly not by nature.

Miles had destroyed everything in his path with sheer madness, he took the chair... and suddenly spun around, prompting a scream from Chris Fox in the process.

"Wow! Look at all these sleeping people, you must be really boring! Say... aren't you that germ guy? I hate germs too... Mommy says that they are everywhere, why don't we form a team... we can kill all germs, BIGTIME!"

Blunder's eyes widened... he was captured by the vision which Christopher Fox had planted in his head...

... captured for a second too long, as Fox promptly scooped him up and drove him down with a Foxoorama... a reverse rock bottom!

"LOL... I can't believe you bought that." Fox chuckled... before pacing off down the corridor with a smile on his face.

As Fox moved away, he left behind an assortment of battered bodies, all of them had been beaten severely, but one or two still had some gas left in the tank.

Pestilence and Lotus staggered up to their feet, before staring each other dead in the eye and making a wise choice; pick on the weak.

Pestilence struck first... locking a downed Faith into Calling our Fathers, and due to her unconscious state, scoring five points.

As he did so... Lotus measured up an even more sinister attack, dragging each fighter by an arm, she placed Syphon Fission, Venoma Star, Remy Leroux and Miles Blunder in a slumped and seated position against the corridor wall, before a few seconds later... dragging out a ladder from amongst the piles of equipment, placing it horizontally across all four of the fighters chests.

Lotus took a few steps back... before rushing forth and unleashing a spectacular front flip dropkick... connecting hard with the ladder and crushing all four of the fighters behind it... the ladder fell to the floor, and Blunder, Fission, Leroux and Star all followed it... slumping down.

Not a bad way to make twenty points in one go, Lotus struggled up to her feet, as Pestilence pulled Faith into a knee and an elbow across the back of the neck, knocking her down and out for five more points.

Pestilence and Lotus met up... fists tightly balled and ready for battle, but they were pleased with their achievments, and mustered up a high five.

As Steve Christ mustered up a double chair shot, rushing from nowhere and cracking both fighters across the skull, knocking them out for ten points and continuing his war march down the backstage corridors.

Not so far away, Team V.I.A.G.R.A and the Legion of Dairy were at war.

As Flyer lay out following a NOG down at the hands of egg NOG, the two quickly put to an end Tony Davis' participation in the ManHunt.

Davis had clambered half way up a ladder, but the two had followed... and as it wobbled precariously, they struck, underhooking Davis and drilling him to the cold concrete from about six rungs up... with the Sellout!

egg NOG and cHEESE lay motionless with Davis on the floor, ten points to the good... but unaware of the danger from above.

They'd taken Davis out, but the NOG down on Flyer... whilst keeping him down for ten, hadn't kept him down any longer.

Flyer wobbled up the ladder... finally reaching the very top, before leaping down at the three in a true PPV moment.

Flyer stood at the very top of the ladder, and leapt with true disregard for his own safety, hitting sheer dizzy heights... such to the extent that his arched back knocked out a few ceiling tiles in the process, as he frog splashed through the air... coming down across egg NOG, cHEESE... and even Tony Davis inadvertantly.

The four lay out, stirring amongst the wreckage as Flyer picked up fifteen points.

And trouble headed their way... in the form of Chris Fox.

Fox... having finally returned from a detour which presumably took him to the biggest toy store in New York... was finally getting into the ManHunt, and having finally picked up his first five points thanks to Miles Blunder's misplaced trust, he was hungry for more.

Fox surveyed the situation... all four men down and a ladder just beyond them.

"Bunnysault... I CHOOSE YOU!" Fox cried with delight... running forth and skipping the four downed men, before hitting the ladder about four rungs up, coming off it with an asai moonsault and landing across all four of them... keeping them down for a shrewd twenty points.

Fox stumbled up to his feet with a huge smile on his face... a smile which quickly changed.

"Steel chair I ch-fuck it!" Steve Christ roared, before clattering Fox across the skull with the steel chair that he'd been carrying, busting the seat out of it across the head of the Action! superstar, and knocking him down for five points.

"Dumbass." Christ snarled, before picking at the rest of the downed characters, kicking Davis... then Flyer, then cHEESE out of the way, before finally reaching egg NOG.

Who delivered a swift and sharp low blow.

Christ doubled over, as egg NOG hooked him by the head and clambered onto the ladder... looking for a Dairytown Death Drop... and he hit it!

Almost.

egg NOG flipped over Christ, but soon found himself suspended in mid air, a place from which Steve Christ would take him from... to one destination only.

Into the Void.

egg NOG lay out, Christ grew another five points stronger... but failed to notice cHEESE coming up from behind, in a none Villam Ender esque manor.

cHEESE had just laid out both members of V.I.A.G.R.A with a double Listeria diving reverse DDT, taking his point total up to fifteen... which soon became twenty, as he tossed Christ through the air with Windows, a spinning exploder suplex!

as cHEESE tried to revive his team partner... Providence prepared to stoop even lower than he already had on the night.

LLB shivered uncontrollably on the medical table, this was the comedown... the shakes, the visions, they'd plague him for days.

"How unfortunate." Providence chuckled "But we can't let a good fuckhead go to waste... I can win this thin by kicking your ass alone."

Providence placed down his T.V. title on the nearest table, before preparing to do his worst to LLB... who had a shock or two in store.

LLB suddenly shot up to a seated position, staring Providence in the eye, a frantic... crazed expression across his face as sweat poured down it.

"YOU

ARE

GUILTY!!!" LLB roared insanely... as Providence took drastic measures, pulling a steel tray from beneath a pile of syringes and shaking them off of it... before completely plastering LLB across the skull with it as he tried to get to his feet.

Correction; did get to his feet.

Blood poured down LLB's face, but the crazed eyes remained fixated on Providence.

"OBJECTION!" LLB screamed... slowly stooping down... as Providence tried to back away.

"Shit." Providence uttered... but it was too late.

Erroneous Conclusion.

Perhaps the most intense of all time... as LLB lifted Providence from his feet, rushing and driving him spine first through a tall medicine cabinet, shattering bottles within and sending coloured medicines spilling all about the place.

LLB quickly rose to his feet, eyes still wide... sweat still pouring down his body as he staggered out of the medical room.

"GUILTY! ALL OF YOU ARE GUILTY!" He screamed... suddenly rushing down the corridor and ploughing into a herd of fighters as they tried to recover from the ordeal they'd previously put each other through.

Syphon Fission was instantly taken down by LLB's second Erroneous Conclusion of the night, out for the count... he wasn't the first casualty, as LLB scrambled up and grabbed a steel chair as he did.

CRACK!

CRACK!

Pestilence and Remy Leroux stopped fighting, they had to... because LLB had just smacked them both across their spines with scathing chair shots, as they tumbled to the floor... LLB froze for a second, drawing back the chair but pausing on sight of Lotus... who prepared to strike.

"Even you... BITCH!" LLB roared, bringing down the chair against the cranium of the women's champion, ko'ing her on impact... LLB surveyed his damage... before continuing his path of destruction down the halls in search of more Guilty defendants.

He didn't have to look far.

SELLOUT!

The Legion of Dairy slammed Chris Fox down with their finishing move, picking up five points each for their efforts... but they had precious little time to relax.

V.I.A.G.R.A were back on them in a flash, lacing into them with wicked rights and lefts... it was a mighty exchange, as the LOD refused to be beaten down, fighting back with blows of their own, it was turning into a sheer brawl.

A brawl which quickly became a war, as Steve Christ dived into the mix... not taking sides, simply hitting anything that moved.

As the five proceeded to batter one another into oblivion... they had all underestimated the resilience of a small man, who was about to make leaps and bounds with his own ManHunt progress.

Despite being hit with the Sellout just moments before, Christopher Fox dragged himself over to the still standing ladder, before rung by rung, pulling himself up toward the top.

"My Mommy will be so mad." He sobbed... before commiting the equivalent of ManHunt suicide.

Fox simply rocked the ladder forward, with his whole weight behind it... it slowly but surely toppled over... completely hammering the five brawling fighters as it went knocking them in all directions, Fox fell atop of the ladder as it folded shut on the floor, bouncing sickeningly off of it as he did... he'd still managed to kill five birds with one stone, to pick up an amazing twenty five points!

But the term "no rest for the wicked" was about to show once again why it was so commonly used.

As the fighters slowly but surely tried to recover, the judge... jury and executioner made his way down the corridor.

LLB... a crazed LLB who was intent on judging all of those whom stood in his way.

He rushed forward... blasting the first man that stood in his way with a chair shot, unfortunately it was High Flyer, who crumbled under the shot as it hit him... as LLB prepared to hit another blow on the albeit unconscious Flyer, Tony Davis rushed forth to his aid... only to be met with the same fate, a wicked shot at the hands of the lawyer.

Davis fell to the floor onto Flyer and the two lay in a heap... as cHEESE and egg NOG tried their hand at taking down the Lw.

And failed.

They rushed forward... but were countered in the most simple of ways, as LLB took up a rugby stance... before rushing forth and acing both of them with a massive double Erroneous Conclusion!

Make that another ten points from the lawer... and boy, was he anything but done.

Steve Christ was next, staggering forward with a flailing right arm in an attempt to knock the Law out... but once again he objected, hooking Christ under the arm and lifting him into the air... before turning and dropping him back to reality with Black & White!

Christ was out too... and LLB was on fifty points, three within the leaders position.

The Law had never been so vigilant, as LLB took out the only man left... Christopher Fox, twisting him quickly over into the Testify... LLB screamed "GUILTY! GUILTY! GUILTY!" at the top of his lungs... as Fox screamed and tapped out vigorously.

As he did... LLB's face turned bright red... his whole body began to shake, and he passed out...

... the leader of the ManHunt rankings.

Giving LLB drugs was supposed to be the smartest plan that Providence had ever devised, but in doing so... he might well have brought LLB a step closer to taking him out once and for all.

As the dust settled backstage... in the Asylum, it whipped up in the air, flying in all directions.

Stranglehold were fucked, as the website splash page had promised someone would be. the members of The Zone stood around the Asylum like Gargoyles surrounding a Church tower, warding off the evil spirits that were the wrestlers, and keeping a few of them from going anywhere as they did.

Villam Ender and Devoid picked up Jeff Garvin by his hair... allowing him to stand dazed and free for a second or two... they quickly cut off any brain activity powering his legs... by swinging a punch from each side of his head... connecting on both sides at the same time!

Five points each, the Team Campbell revival continued.

Hans Krueger and Eddie Cheno went to work... picking up Ace Carter, pressing him over their heads gorilla style and promptly dropping him throat first across the Asylum rim.

Scratch up another ten points for Team C, to be divided between the two aggressors.

Who struck again rather quickly and effectively... picking up Biggs Dangsta, and going about slicing and dicing him with a steel chair each.

Krueger swung for his legs, Cheno swung for his head... it was a very simple premise than ended in Biggs being down and in agony, and Krueger and Cheno picking up a further five points each.

As Devoid and Ender continued their point scoring bonanza, this time picking apart the Stranglehold leader... Exxa Decimal... with a devastating blow.

Villam hoisted the masked man up onto his shoulders, as Devoid used great agility to mount the Asylum rim... the show of skill was far from over however, as Devoid leapt off with a spinning heel kick, catching Decimal square in the face as Villam fell back, dropping him to the canvas with a sick thud.

Make that another five each for the Devoid one, and the Asylum's militant general.

Ender paced the Asylum, checking on the downed wrestlers and barking commands... to which the rest of his soldiers complied.

"Get those fuckers out of my sight!" Villam snarled at Cheno, who nodded to acknowledge... before promptly disposing of Ace Carter, Biggs and Jeff Garvin in a very effective manor.

Open the Asylum door, close it on Carter's head... push him out, open the Asylum door, close it on Biggs' head... push him out, open the Asylum door, close it on Garvin's head, push him out.

Done, done and done... fifteen points thankyou very much.

BLAM!

A steel chair, cannoning off the skull of the fallen Stranglehold general, Exxa Decimal... the white cross worn on his mask slowly turned a crimson red, as Devoid swung the chair and belted him about the skull with it... no doubt, Exxa was out, but Devoid was hungry... hungry for yet more points.

He placed the chair carefully across Exxa's ribs... before reaching out of the Asylum and pulling in another... measuring carefully before...

CRACK!

The sound of the steel chairs, and possibly Exxa's ribs too... as Devoid brought the first chair down onto the second... crushing Exxa beneath and picking up another five points to add to the five gained seconds before.

As Team Campbell dominated once more, Villam Ender laughed... demanding their attention.

"Look at this... why should we destroy them, when they insist on destroying themselves!?"

His remark was directed at Eli Flair and Ruben Ross... who exchanged lazy punches midway up a ladder which swayed dangerously at ringside... finally, Ross took the upper hand... getting a kick off into Flair's ribs and hooking his head.

Ratings Spike... from the ladder... REVERSED IN MID AIR.

FALLEN ONE.

The crowd exploded with insane cheers, as Flair and Ross flew off the ladder and into the crowd insanely, landing amongst the bodies with a sick thud and laying motionless amongst chairs and fans... covered in their own blood... Flair's final act in the ManHunt, to pick up five points... and prevent a sworn enemy from winning it.

As Team Campbell stood and laughed at the actions of Flair and Ross... they failed to notice another wrestling danger... scaling yet another ladder behind them.

The Zone rushed the ladder, pushing it over... but a split second too late, for Noah Hawkins had already made his death defying cannonball leap... throwing his body from a great height and landing dead on top of Villam Ender, Hans Krueger, Eddie Cheno and Devoid.

The four men sprawled to the canvas, as Hawkins popped back to his feet... eyes wide, he darted out of the Asylum and leapt into the crowd, with the Zone in hot persuit... he was cut and running with his twenty point interest.

And then, an extremely interesting situation became apparent.

Ty Hughes, stumbling to his feet... cut off from the Asylum by several Stranglehold members who struggled up.

And Exxa Decimal... struggling to his feet, surrounded by downed Team Campbell members.

"The fuUK is going on ere?" Hughes uttered rubbing his head... as Exxa Decimal quickly took five points, kicking Hans Krueger in the gut and drilling him with the Decimal Destroyer.

"FUUK!" Hughes shouted, hands on his head "That cunt is gonna clean house!"

And by the looks of things, Exxa was... as he took Eddie Cheno down with the Exxa Death crossface, forcing him to tap out for another five points.

Hughes desperately rushed toward the Asylum... but was cut off by Jeff Garvin, who pounded him back with rights and lefts... as in the Asylum itself, Exxa Decimal picked up a steel chair stained with his own blood and returned a favour, bashing Devoid around the head with it... and crowning Villam Ender with it too, busting it over his head completely to snatch another ten points.

The crowd booed Exxa, but cheered insanely... as Hughes lifted Garvin onto his shoulder... dropping him on the steel ramp with Knockout, a fireman's carry into an ace crusher!

Hughes struggled up... bursting for the Asylum again... only to be stopped by a bloody and beaten Ace Carter, who shot him down to one knee with some hard rights and lefts.

Back in the Asylum... Exxa Decimal promptly cleared the fighting area of Devoid, by tossing him over the Asylum rim and to the arena floor... followed shortly after by Hans Krueger, whom he picked up and gave a shocking Exxa Death to... dropping him throat first across the Asylum rim and to the arena floor, picking up five more points!

"Bastard!" Hughes snarled on the outside... as he caught Carter by the head with a running DDT, picking up yet another five points for himself... getting to his feet once again with teeth clenched... making a burst toward the Asylum, only to be cut off again... this time by Biggs Dangsta.

As Biggs send a knee into Hughes ribs and threw him face first to the mesh, he could only bear witness... as Exxa lifted Cheno over his shoulder and dropped him with the Decimal Destroyer, taking his point total up to fifty five.

Levelling with LLB for the night.

As Biggs bashed Hughes into the steel face first, blood started to pour down his face... but despite he pain, he remained focused on what was happening in the Asylum... in all it's horrific glory...

As Exxa Decimal snatched Villam by the legs, crossed them over and turned his body onto it's front.

The Exxa Deathlock.

Lord have mercy on the Asylum.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Hughes cried... desperately trying to scramble over the Asylum rim as Exxa sinched in the hold on Villam... who roared out in agony.

Biggs pulled Hughes back down from the Asylum rim, but got an unpleasant surprise... as Hughes drove him in the ribs with a knee, before stepping back, as Exxa continued to gring his Exxa Deathlock on Villam Ender, wearing away at him.

Hughes stepped forth, catching Biggs right across the back of the neck with a polish hammer and sending him down, Hughes fell to his knees... before shaking off the cobwebs and making his way in agony toward the Asylum... pulling himself up onto the apron just in time...

... to, after what seemed an eternity... witness Villam Ender tap out to the Exxa Deathlock

"fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" Hughes screamed at the top of his voice... as the crowd exploded with boos, in the knowledge that Exxa had just taken another five points.

Hughes gritted his teeth and clambered into the Asylum... as Exxa staggered to his feet and pumped his fists into the air, but it didn't last long... as Ty Hughes scooped him into a fireman's carry... dropping him into an ace crusher and completing Knockout!

Five points for Ty Hughes...

... as a siren echoed throughout the arena.

the ManHunt, at last... was over.

Hughes fell to his knees and lowered his head, he knew all too well what the siren meant.

Slowly... Jeff Garvin crawled into the Asylum... grabbing Exxa by an arm and dragging him across the canvas and out of the structure, as Biggs reached into the crowd and helped Ruben Ross out of it.

Eli Flair stepped forth, perhaps to attack Ross again... but he knew his fight would come another day, as he slowly disappeared into the crowd.

Stranglehold regrouped on the aisle... they didn't celebrate, they simply staggered up the aisle, bleeding... bruised and in some cases, broken.

They staggered through the curtains and into the back... as Lotus staggered out onto the aisle and down it... making her way toward Nerva, who was also struggling up to her feet.

The announcer kicked in, and the dust began to settle.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the results of the ManHunt match are as follows.

As the highest ranked female with 37 points, and earning a shot at the Asylum women's championship: NERVA!"

The crowd roared to life after they heard that Nerva earned another shot at the Women's Title. Nerva fell to her knees. Her jeans were torn and her baby doll top was stained with blood. She hadn't even been ready to fight yet she came out of the Manhunt match with so much. She thought she fought her last fight, but she was faced with a dilemma. Now she'd earned a shot at the Women's Champion. Her retirement was in question.

She rose to her feet and pointed at Lotus, who'd fallen short one point of tying her.

"Fuck you," said Lotus.

"You're mine, bitch," said Nerva. "I've got one more shot, and I'm not going to waste it."

"And in sixth and fifth place respectively... the two fighters who will be forced to pair and take a shot at the team titles are...

In sixth: MAXWELL!

And in fifth: PHILLIPS!"

In the back, Maxwell and Phillips were still recovering from the battle... they'd saved each other on one or two occasions... and they'd worked well as a unit, if anyone deserved the shot, it was them... and it seemed as though fate had deemed it to be.

"In fourth place... with 50 points, to earn a shot at the extreme title: CHRISTOPHER FOX!"

The crowd for once, exploded with cheers... in the news that a none Asylum member was to return and take a shot at one of their prestigious title belts.

"In third place... we have a tie situation, which means that all three individuals will be eligable for a shot at the U.K. title at any time, ladies and gentlemen... with 53 points each: TOKEN WEED, STEVE CHRIST... AND... MILES BLUNDER!"

The crowd exploded with cheers again, Chris and Token were accomplished fighters who would be more than capable of taking the title belt... and Blunder was an underdog, who's chance seemed to have passed him by... until now.

"And in second place, with 55 points... to earn a shot at the Asylum Television Title: LLB!"

Another big pop in the arena... but the crowd didn't know what those backstage did, as an exhausted LLB was loaded onto a stretcher with an IV in his arm... the drugs had taken their toll... and now that the adrenaline rush was over, he would have to fight for his life.

"And finally... in first place, with an astounding 60 points... he will take a shot at the Inmate's Asylum Championship in a few minutes time... ladies, gentlemen:

EXXA DECIMAL!"

Insane booing, he'd done it... somehow, someway... despite the odds beind stacked against him, despite Joe Campbell's backup plans, Exxa Decimal had defied logic... and he'd been victorious in a time of defeat for the rest of Stranglehold.

He, was the number one contender.

Enter Exxa Decimal. He walked down the ramp... blood staining his mask, a limp in his stride and bruises covering his body... the crowd didn't expect anything less. Each person in the rafters had their own choice words for the founder and silent leader of Stranglehold. Perhaps they had hoped that their verbal barbs would shake Exxa up. But, no...Exxa was too confident. Defeat is foreign to him. He had proved that in the Manhunt match. That strength only made people fear this match and it's outcome more.

Exxa stood waiting. His music had played...that moment had passed.

"I Disappear" by Metallica.

Now it was his time. He stood with his body maybe not quite at 100% but with his mind at 110%. He knew the fight ahead would be not only be difficult because of Exxa's skill as a fighter. But, it would be even more difficult because of the stitches in his neck. The pain of which sent reverberations down to his spine.

Despite great pain, Inmate proudly walked out onto the steel ramp way leading to the Asylum. Inmate was as close to fighting capacity as he could be. He escaped the pain by Barring the Stranglehold attack with the chains and the one from Sunday from his memory.

But, who could forget last Sunday?

...his body was feeling about as good as everyone expected.

Not very.

He took few minutes to get inside the cage. The fans waited without a hint of impatience. They wanted the main event of this PPV to start...but not too soon...as soon as it started, so did the see-saw. One side was life. The other was death. If Exxa beat Inmate here...it would mean that everything Stranglehold said was true.

They would not be stopped.

And the Asylum would die.

So who was going to start this? Exxa was enjoying the anticipation and Tyler was too busy trying to block out the pain from his neck.

A time keepers bell rang.

A time keepers bell rang?

It caught Tyler off guard right away. It’d been far too long since he’d heard a time keepers bell. In fact it’d been since before he was in Asylum. Exxa - noticeably - didn’t even flinch.

Booing.

A voice.

A man.

A man with a stupid looking goatee, and an even dumber looking jacket.

“You hear that Inmate? That sweet sound of the bell? Ah, yes...a harmonious sound. But, for whom does it toll?”

Tyler looked from Exxa to Chris Universal.

What was going on?

“You heard it. Don’t act stupid. I make the rules now. What you heard was the sound of a time keepers bell. It’s what gets rung when a wrestling match starts. That’s right, a wrestling match, much like the one that going to decide the true owner of the Asylum Title." This set off a re-energized chorus of boos from the arena but Chris just smiled wider and continued...

“I know you have a history with wrestling Tyler and I know you can adapt. Hell you adapted to living in this dank shithole...there should be no problems.

So get ready for a 'Falls-Count-Anywhere' match.”

With that and some laughter, and a lot of booing, Tyler turned back to Exxa. An open opportunity for a sneak attack, Tyler was incredibly distracted, he knew in the back of his mind, that the attack was coming but oddly enough it didn’t.

A missed opportunity for a sneak attack?

Not likely.

Head games with the Asylum Champion?

Exactly.

"Falls-Count-Anywhere" match? That really doesn't mean anything. It changes the rules in no such way...it was just another Mind Game and distraction from what was going on. And it was working. Instead of thinking away the lancing pain in his neck...he thought about this.

Inmate handed the Asylum title strapped around his waist to an offical and snapped his neck from side to side.

'Fuck it.' he thought.

Inmate remembered hearing that only seconds too late.

Expecting a wrestling-style lock up, he instead recieved a vicious kick to Inmate’s face and the match was underway. Tyler took the shot but didn’t fall. He took the second shot and didn’t fall. He took the third and...

Down he went.

Asylum fighters are used to being at a disadvantage, though.

Inmate shot up, took a swing, and connected.

Took another shot and connected. Took a third and...

Down Exxa went.

The crowd cheered.

Inmate hollered. “Get up fucker!”

Under his mask, Exxa grinned.

Exxa knew Inmate was angered and even perhaps confused, but he’d planned on that. It's what he wanted. In fact that’s why he had asked Universal to change the match "stipulations" just a few minutes ago.

This was it, the fight was on. Exxa was up and the two started at it like the fans expected.

Trading Fists.

Exxa backflipped. Strategically, Inmate went at him.

Hip-toss.

How embarrassing.

Exxa was enjoying this more as each second passed.

But would that feeling last? Tyler was up quick enough. He’d landed square on his back, and not his head like Exxa had hoped. Tyler charged Exxa and faked out Exxa's second hip toss at the last second with a flying drop kick. Exxa was sent into the wire mesh and tried to gain footing as quick as possible. Tyler was on him though, picking him apart with another barrage of fists. Each one landing harder and harder.

Tyler reared a fist back a little too far and that was all the opening Exxa needed to counter with a headbutt into Inmate's sternum. Once again...he felt most of the strike in his spine.

Tyler staggered back and Exxa opened things up with a series of kicks in Inmate's face which sent his neck whipping back and forth. Exxa was making sure that neck would cause more trouble.

Exxa connected with an uppercut and trapped one of Inmate counter-punches only to follow up with a rapid fire Wing-Chun style punches. Wrenching Inmate's head...it seemed as if Exxa was going to nail a DDT, but instead he flipped horizontally over Inmate's back and cracked his neck with a weird neckbreaker of some sort. Inmate got to his feet holding his the back of his neck only to see Exxa flying through the air...

For a jump kick?

No. Exxa flew right past him.

Or so it would appear...once Exxa was behind Inmate he shot out a kick right in the back of Inmate's head. Dropping to his feet, Exxa propped himself up on his and knocked him down with a double leg sweep. Exxa rose up instantly looking to lock on a sobmission hold...but Inmate quickly scrambled out of the way.

Exxa continued his charge only to be caught off guard and hurled out of cage with a hiptoss of Inmate's own. Exxa landed flat on his back with a loud thud and crowd was suddenly on thier feet, simply because Exxa wasn't on his feet. Such a simple move executed from such a hieght had taken the air out of Exxa. But, when Inmate should've been up and after him...he was still in the Asylum in great pain...

Inmate got up, shook it off...and jumped out of the Asylum as Exxa started to retreat...

Running away?

Nope.

As Tyler followed...Exxa grabbed a chair and threw it backwards, just the distraction he’d need. As Tyler caught the chair and threw it to the floor, he caught a back kick right in the nose. He’d been hit in the face, but once again it was his neck that hurt. Exxa kicked him in the ribs, punched him in the shoulder/head, then finally Tyler caught a break. He blocked what he could of the follow-up punch, and sent his own towards the target facing him.

Exxa lost himself for a second. He had wrestled a fair amount of matches, and judging from his Shoalin-type fighting, had trained more than the average fighter/wrestler, but had he ever been hit in the face like that before.

Inmate meant these punches.

Exxa had to collect himself, but was being hit more than he was being collected.

Inmate knew he couldn’t let Exxa collect himself, so he kept punching.

Inmate saw the opportunity and hit what was the first thing on his part that resembled a wrestling move. A Clothesline. It took Exxa down and out over the barrier into a row of chairs especially cleared out for this match. The fans were more than pleased. In fact one fan took advantage and threw his beer at Exxa. Other fans began kicking him, some picked up chair and swatted away at him like a fly.

Exxa had no choice but to fight off the idiots in the arean. A teenage boy went down first, followed by his girlfriend. Fists were flying and Exxa Decimal was aiming for take off at any where an Asylum shirt.

This gave time for Inmate to now look for a weapon himself....a chair? No, not good enough.

Exxa had only a month ago tied up Inmate with chains and tried to rip him apart. Now was Inmate’s time for payback.

He found the chains he had obviously planted. As Exxa fought his way out of the crowd and made his way closer to the cage, Tyler - out of nowhere- doubled up the chain and swung it full throttle overhead, and then connected with Exxa’s side. Then the chain connected with the arms covering Exxa’s head.

Then the chain connected with Exxa again, and again, and again until Exxa was in much pain on the ground...

Inmate stopped only to grab Exxa and pull him up from the ground. They had battled all the way to the other barrier. Inmate hooked Exxa in a reverse choke...did the incredible. With a neck that was no doubt causing him pain, he hoisted Exxa up and...

No, the crowd had moved because they knew what was coming, the same move Inmate had used when he defended his title at MindGames 2001.

But the crowd was wrong.

Exxa was right.

He was in mid move, when he jammed his elbow into Inmate’s neck. Inmate had no choice.

He had to stop. If he followed through with the jump he could paralyse himself, if not kill himself. Exxa made him regret not taking the chance though, as he grabbed Inmate and shoved him backwards with every ounce of hatred he’d let fester towards the Asylum.

The crowd went silent.

This was it.

Inmate had been pushed violently against the Asylum cage. His head being too high to connect, therefore it had no place else to go, except snap directly backwards.

People watched as Tyler Burton, the Inmate, the Asylum Champion, lay still.

...

...

...

Somewhere, Joe Campbell was closer to the brink of insanity, than he had ever come before.

*

*

*

Exxa came here to rid the industry of Joe Campbell and things like him, but right about now you’ve gotta believe that he's smiling like he’s never smiled before. That threat was finally being carried out with Malice.

This is it… Exxa knew he was only moments away. He’s so close he can actually feel the emotional trophy in his hands.

Stranglehold were about everything that Asylum wasn’t, but they say that time changes everything, and with Inmate, the Asylum Champion, laying on the ground at his mercy you’ve gotta believe Exxa was more like the Asylum than he'd ever admit. As he approached the Inmate he was met with a strike, no not from whom you’d think, but from a fan jumping the railing. Exxa simply shoved the fan back.

Not bothering to let a distraction like that take away from a Stranglehold Moment like the one about to bloom.

As the fan was carried away by security Exxa focused once again on what he’d been thinking about for some time now.

1. the Inmate

2. Beating him and taking the Asylum Championship.

This was it, and as Exxa added injury to insult, by not only just picking up Inmate, but shoving him back into the Asylum, you could tell Exxa couldn’t wait to pin the Inmate.

That's right, pin him. Inmate had forgotten all about that in the last several minutes.

Was this it? Was Inmate going to lose the Asylum Championship, and oh so much more, by being pinned in the center of what had yet to become even remotely associated with pinfalls.

Exxa simply dropped, barely hooking Inmate’s leg. This was it…

1..

No.

Inmate could hardly move from the pain. But this was Asylum. As long as you could feel the pain, you knew you still had something left.

Exxa didn’t seem furious. He didn’t seem surprised. He probably known it would’ve come to something like this.

In fact he’d be stupid to think the Inmate would’ve given him anything less. So as he looked at Inmate, and as Inmate looked at that cross, it happened.

Exxa Deathlock.

A punishment for Inmate far greater than being pinned? Maybe.

A well thought out plan on Exxa’s behalf? Most certainly.

Inmate still felt the pain; in fact he felt it even more. So he kept moving. Despite knowing what it could do to him, he fought it. He fought harder with each breathe he managed to take…but what would it be? If he stayed in this hold he would be facing life in a wheelchair. If he tapped now...he could fight another day.

He had no choice.

“You can always try harder, that doesn’t mean things will get easier.”

It was over.

Inmate tapped.

Exxa had done it. Inmate had not.

More importantly…

Stranglehold had done it, and Asylum had not.