It was dark and damp as the rain pelted down without mercy upon the body of Kellen Kinkade. The light cast down upon him from the moon was enough to reveal him plunging a spade into the soaked dirt, despite it being well into the early hours of the morning and pitch black he'd keep digging until he found something.

The Freak had told him that the Immortal title had been buried somewhere within the location and that if he hurried, there was a possibility that he'd find the telltale disturbed earth and be able to dig it up.

Hurry he did... mopping the sweat from his brow he continued to dig furiously at the mound of soil that he'd discovered. Kinkade knew that if he'd made a mistake the heavy rain was rapidly washing away his chances of finding the belt anywhere else.

Deep in a hole Kinkade drew back the shovel and pitched it into the dirt furiously.

"You buried it deep motherfucker, but I found it." Kinkade said maniacally as he scraped away the dirt from the surface of box that the belt had been placed inside of.

The Jersey Devil knelt down and tried furiously to pry the box open but it was to no avail... it'd been sealed shut tight and would need to be smashed, but short of being made of steel nothing was going to stop Kellen Kinkade from ripping it apart and reclaiming his title belt.

He got to his feet and furiously drove the spade down... time and time again as the wood shattered and splintered beneath the blows, finally the spade drove right through and made an opening so that he could reach inside and grab the prize.

Reach inside he did.

Grab the prize he did not.

Disgusted at what he'd grasped Kinkade quickly withdrew his hand, a hand that was coated with the secretions of something that had been decomposing inside the box. It appeared as though he hadn't found the location of the Immortal title but rather the location of a recently buried body.

"Jesus." Kinkade roared to himself, wiping his hand in a near bye formed pool of water and trying not to vomit.

Most men would've thought about the horrific act they'd just committed but Kinkade simply picked up his shovel and tossed it up and out of the now open grave. Ready to go in search of his belt once more.

He wasn't even going to replace the dirt.

But then he never got the chance.

Kinkade clambered up out of the filthy grave... clawing through the soil all around him as the rain continued to thrash down and lightning crackled in the distance, lighting the scene just long enough to let Kinkade know that he wasn't alone.

He'd been reaching for his shovel, but someone else had it in their grasp.

The stainless steel shovel end connected firmly across the side of Kinkade's head... causing him to slip and slide through the muddy pools of water on the floor. As the blood slowly began to trickle down his temple he saw the figure of The Freak approaching with the shovel.

"To answer a question probably manifesting somewhere in your mind, no... I didn't bury it." The Freak said with a snarl as he placed the long handle of the shovel across Kinkade's throat and choked the life out of him with it.

"But this was good exercise for you, mentally and physically... not only has the digging left you too exhausted to fight back properly but the trauma of being so close yet nowhere near has you in the palm of my hand. Now I simply finish what I started." The Freak continued, releasing Kinkade who gasped desperately for air.

The shovel flashed through the air three times... more disturbing was the fact that the loud cracks that echoed through the air were not the shovel connecting with Kinkade's ribs but his ribs breaking under the impact. The Jersey Devil coughed and spluttered as internal bleeding came to the surface and made itself external.

He tried desperately to stand... damp earth giving way beneath his feet as The Freak's voice once again filled the silent night.

"Given the rain and the amount of disturbance it's creating with the ground I'd say it'll take a couple of hours before you get completely covered... give or take an hour before the maintenance people that work here come and fill this grave and you'll be as good as dead."

He drew back and with a final mighty swipe broke the shovel completely across Kinkade's head... the Immortal champion staggered backward before falling deep into the grave that he'd accidentally disturbed.

His world slowly faded to black as the rain continued to come down upon him.

His world slowly faded back to colour several hours later.

The blue sky rolled above him as he slowly remembered exactly where he was... sitting up rapidly he grimaced and remembered that his ribs had been badly broken, he was sitting in a deep pool of dank rancid water in the bottom of an open grave.

Scrambling slowly but surely up the side Kinkade dragged himself out of the hole and took several deep and painful breaths, the blood on the side of his face had started to try as had that which was covering his mouth and chest... as he got to his feet he thought about all that The Freak had put him through and spoke a few rage filled words to himself.

"Fucker should've buried me while he had the chance."

In the distance, a light switch could be heard clicked on… seconds later an electrical buzz noise filled the air, as a dim light appeared in the far corner of the hall in an unknown location. Moving down the corridor; the light replaced the darkness, comfort took a back seat to the uneasiness of not knowing what would happen next. A door slowly opened around the corner… the investigation took a new plot twist. Inside, the only thing seen was a TV set. Zooming in closer on the small 19 in. screen; as a viewer discretion warning appeared, before blood dripped down over the top of it.

In the far corner of the room, an individual sat as the carnage intensified on the small screen; every horrific event that was witnessed through Asylum’s history had metamorphosed before him. Leaning back in his chair; he finally broke his silence under the blanket of the dark shadows that hid him so very well. His pierced eye brow sparkled against the few rays of light, that weren’t swallowed up whole in the darkness… as he rubbed on his chin, just before his scratchy and deep echoing voice was heard.

“You know, there comes a time in every man’s life… when he or she has to except the consequences that they are dealt. You can’t tempt fate… you can’t change the way things have become, or they way they will be in the future. All you can do is sit back and watch as your world crumbles around you. Just imagine it for yourself; the stone ceiling and concrete walls that you built,” he pointed forward with what seemed to be his right arm, while his voice level rose “…sheltering you from the cruel, outside world… are loosening as we speak. A place where you hide in the dark shadows, with people like your kind. The fucking scum of this industry; a disturbing side show freak carnival that should have been murdered years ago… Dead and buried; six feet under the blood stained ground, it has left in it’s own wake of destruction.”

The individual clicked his lighter a few times… a flame finally emerging as he inhaled it quickly. Smoke drifted slowly to the top after it was blown from the mystery man’s lungs.

”But now it seems that history has repeat itself; Frankenstein has turned on the great doctor once again. Is anyone surprised though? You have created this corruption, and in your mind… did you really think that even you were save from it’s evil clutches, that seem to stretch endlessly? How are you going to protect yourself when the times comes for you to be the next victim; just like the men and women that have already suffered. Painfully tortured under your reign at the helm of this ungodly version of hell on earth.”

”Then again, who says that anyone has to suffer at all, except the people that dare to challenge you…. Rather challenge me. But tell me something if you can…” He coughed faintly, as he spat on the ground; then looked to his left as when a spider crawled up the nearby wall at that exact same moment. He couldn’t help himself but to squash the life of the tiny, little insect… just because he knew that he could.

”How long has it been since you first started this endless search? If you don’t know what I am talking about… let me refresh your memory. The search for a warrior that was going to lead this disgusting, and vile promotion into the twenty-second century. Raising his iron fist into the air like Hitler in the 1900’s, high and proud. Before he stabbed that same fist through the heart of his victim… as if it was the cold, jagged and un-discriminating blade of a machete. That he swung at his own will as I will do the same.”

The individual lifted his arm as he pointed it at the television; possibly clutching a remote of some sort. The images changed to single frame shot of famous Asylum competitors; if you could indeed call them ‘famous’.

First it was…

Borst

Then it was…

Kenny Rock

Followed by…

Villiam Ender

Inmate

Ruben Ross

But then the frame work stopped.

”You see these men, I am sure that you’re paying attention now. Let me be the first to tell you. Their dedication to the Insane asylum; the blood they spelt, the lives they’ve changed forever…. The battles they have conquered deep inside their souls have meant nothing.”

He paused, throwing the remote at the TV set. It clanged loudly against the screen, before bouncing off of the floor as well.

“Because either your eyes see as I mine do now or they will see the realization… that nothing has changed because of these men! They are just like the other freaks and geeks, that have stumbled through the gates of the Asylum… coming in with no purpose or real sense of direction, when yours truly was ‘destined’ to be here. Watching from a distance, waiting for the hands of time to come together… Waiting for the planets to align in a perfect formation and the earth itself to shift numerous times into place… before I made my eminent arrival. They fought because they thought they had to fight; while I fight for…”

The individual chuckled as he stopped in mid-sentence, slowly rising from his position in the chair. His face partially kissed by the light; before he ducked back into the shadows, were he probably was more at home.

”Well, you’ll learn the reason why I fight. And not a second sooner. The Asylum will recognize my name; then everyone trapped there, will learn to fear it. You will see the light of day. You will be scorched by the light at the end, and I do mean the ‘end’ of the tunnel. But until that day comes all you non believers… ” He clicked off the light, everything plunged into the awaiting darkness.

“You can wait and see, then judge for yourselves.”

"You sure you want some snotty purebred walking around here?" Dez Aragon sighed as he scraped dirt from beneath his finger nails with a switch blade.

"Yep." Joe replied with a nod "The way I see it... we bring this guy in, he gets the fucking tar panned right out of him and the point is proved once and for all. Asylum is the most brutal form of fighting on the planet."

"Of course." Dez answered "Sounds like a great plan."

"It'll work you sarcastic cunt." Joe replied "He won't last five minutes around here with his fancy no punching in the bollocks or biting people in the face bullshit."

Dez shook his head.

"Or he'll use his discipline to completely knock the fuck out a bunch of untrained street fighters, that is what makes the difference between a professional and an amateur Joe, discipline... there's nothing to say this guy can't knock most of our guys out with a single punch."

A few raps on the door interrupted the dispute.

"He didn't punch the door through did he?" Joe said with a smile.

"No but..." Dez tried to answer.

"Exactly... COME IN!" Joe cut in firmly.

The door swung open and in walked a man who was apparently the Asylum's newest recruit.

Frank Minio.

"Ah Frank, do come in... take a seat." Joe said politely as the fresh faced fighter entered the room and took a seat before Campbell.

"Good to meet you at last." Minio said extending a hand that Joe politely declined.

"Eh... we'll save the handshake until after you sign this contract shall we?" Joe fired back.

"Fine." Minio replied folding his arms.

"Okay... so Frank, I don't mean to be picky but you don't exactly look like a fighter to me." Joe said raising an eyebrow of concern.

"Wanna elaborate on that point?" Minio replied.

"Well yeah... your face doesn't look to beaten up." Joe said in return.

"That's because I don't get hit too much, best fighters don't." Frank answered... impressing Joe who acknowledged with a nod.

"Fair enough, fair enough... well then... anything else you'd like to share before I give you this?" Joe asked... sliding the contract back and forth on the table.

"I know enough Muay Thai to make most of your guys look stupid, if that helps." Minion replied with a cocky smile.

"Is that so?" Joe replied "Watched a few tapes of you earlier too... couldn't help but notice that tattoo on your chest so I imagine you're nifty with a blade as well, good old Italians."

Minio wasn't impressed as a smirk appeared on his face that could easily have been a punch in Joe's mouth.

"If I have to be... but my win loss record pretty muc-" Minio began only to be cut off.

"Yeah yeah." Joe said with a sigh pushing the contract over to him "Just sign that... you can do the rest of your talking in the Asylum, paisan."

Minio quickly scribbled his name on the contract, Joe extended his hand for a shake but this time roles were reversed as Minion simply uttered "I will." blowing off the handshake and leaving the room.

Joe had found a fighter, but certainly not a friend.

The doors to the arena were kicked open, and in walked Karen Pembridge, with possibly the biggest grin in recorded history on her face. All week, she hadn't been able to get rid of the grin, and there was a good reason why. For once, she was just feeling nothing but joy... and on some level, she was wishing it never went away. That it would forever be stored inside of her, with no way of it being snatched away.

But as she slung the bag over her left shoulder, Karen knew that her wish would be almost impossible to fulfil. Sure, the happiness she had now was undeniably great, but it was temporary. Nothing in the world was forever. That was something her first mentor, Sikanah, thought her.

But Karen didn't care. She'd pulled off a massive surprise on her brother, the same one she wished to kill, and basically told him non-verbally that The British Lassie was almost ready to exact complete revenge on him. At the same time, Karen had probably stunned Takahasi, but she didn't want to even think about that right now.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a fist reached out and crashed itself powerfully into the back of Karen's head. Forcing her to emit a surprised yelp and fall to the ground, face-first. The Lassie's bag was kicked aside, and the assailant sniggered, pleased with the damage that was done, as she now stood over the prone figure of Pembridge.

"Been a while, Karen. I figure we should tie up all our loose ends, and fast, since you want to play so badly..." Mercy said sardonically, remembering the minor altercations that took place many weeks ago. Some might have forgotten about it by not.

Not Mercy. You fuck with her, you're basically putting your name down for a hard fucking in the ass.

Karen looked over her right shoulder, and grumbled at the sight of her assailant. Mercy's eyes twinkled at the Lassie's annoyed look, before Karen pulled off a surprise, courtesy of a rolling leg-sweep. Mercy found her feet being taken away, as she fell down to the ground, hard. Grunting, Mercy rolled to her side and aimed to get back up quickly.

Whipping a knife out of her pants pocket in the process.

But turning around to confront Karen, Mercy found that she wasn't the only chick in tA who'd have the balls to hide a knife in the confines of her pants/jeans. The girl of Manchester had a knife pointed to Mercy's neck, but there was no victorious smile to go along, because Mercy too had her knife pointed at Karen's neck.

This, people, is what you call a duel.

Both ladies, on one knee, slowly began to rise in an attempt to regain their vertical balance... and as soon as they did, Mercy's left hand came into play, as she swatted the knife in Karen's hand away. However, Pembridge -- even if she was slightly slower -- had a plan in mind as while, as she used her right hand to great effect, punching Mercy in the face. The knife in the latter's hand dropped to the ground, and Karen kicked it away... advancing on the stunned Mercy at the same time.

However, there was to be another twist in this confrontation. Just as Karen rammed her knee into the gut of Mercy, forcing the latter to slump down to her knees, holding her ribs in undeniable pain, EDDIE SCOTT POSER came charging out of the shadows, with an almighty holler. Sounded like a girlish scream to The Lassie, but that wasn't the point.

The point was -- Eddie was back! He'd claimed he was leaving tA forever, on the last rollicking edition of The Show. But here he was, at the Turmoil extravaganza, knocking Karen Pembridge down with a running forearm smash.

Yes, you read correctly.

Pembridge cursed as she crashed down to the ground, feeling slight pain in the back of her head once again. Eddie placed his arms on his hips and smiled, relishing the chance taken to get a wee bit of revenge on the person who'd constantly berated and insulted him.

At the same time, Mercy had recovered and was standing beside Eddie. The two looked down at Karen, with evil intentions written all across their faces. Almost as if... they'd secretly been planning this. For weeks, days, hours; whatever. Fact was, this attack was pre-meditated.

"To beg for Mercy is to beg for pain, Karen. If you wish to see what's under this mask, you're going to have to try harder.

Much, much harder."

And with those words spoken, Mercy and the King of Poland walked away, leaving Karen laying on the ground. Highly annoyed, and somewhat confused.

So much for the joy she had earlier, eh?

"You getting soft or something?" Dez Aragon said from across the room as Joe Campbell continued to flick through contracts.

"Listen Dez... go for a fucking walk or something will you? You've done nowt but sit there all night moaning about new fighters coming in." Joe replied in an agitated manor

"Wouldn't have anything to moan about if I didn't think you were trying to clean this place up, what's the matter Joe? Street fighting below you now... this is the second Muay Thai trained piece of shit you've signed up tonight."

Joe sighed.

"Dez... you can pretend all you like that it doesn't bother you, but this guy is going to replace you, or at least he is if you manage to fuck up what we've discussed as your role later tonight. Last chance mate... I've given you a job and all you have to do, is do it. No fuck ups and I promise I'll give this guy the cold shoulder and take your name off ebay." Campbell said as Dez took his feet down from the table they were on and sat up.

"So you gonna tell me the score with this guy?" Dez enquired "Because I know you aren't paying two trained fighters the money they'd demand, something must be up."

Joe smiled.

"You know my Dez... always looking for the next deal, this bloke comes from a traditional Thai family, he's known that way of fighting since birth in fact he probably knows more than that Italian mug that was in here earlier." Joe answered "When I was over there a couple of years back his father came to me to borrow money, couldn't have kept his business afloat without it so of course I had no problem with giving him a helping hand."

Dez laughed to himself.

"And the catch was?" He asked Joe.

"No catch." Joe said "I just told him that sooner or later I'd want to be repaid... when I last contacted him he had no money or valuable assets so I went for the next best thing, a slave... a slave that can fight for me, protect me, kill for me and make a quality cup of tea with enough training...

...I own him." Joe said with a sinister grin.

"So when do we get to meet this slave?" Dez asked.

"Right now... Thanh, come in."

The door opened and yet another new face to the Asylum made his entrance, Thanh Vactor. He entered the room and took a seat in front of Joe.

A few moments of silence passed.

"Doesn't look like much to me." Dez scoffed "Does he say anything?"

"Not much." Joe replied "Thanh here uses his fists to do the talking... so I'd keep quiet if I were you Dez or he might decide to take your place right now."

Dez laughed to himself as Joe put his hand in his wallet and took out a couple of hundren dollars.

"Here you go mate." He said to Thanh as he handed him the cash "Go and buy something interesting, take the night off... everything is under control."

Vactor nodded and stuffed the money away into his pocket before getting to his feet and leaving the room.

"So... do I get five hundred dollars to do nothing jack shit too?" Dez spoke up sarcastically.

Joe threw another wad of cash across the room at Dez.

"No... but you can keep that if you shut the fuck up."

Pop plugged the ladies in,
Mom kept the babies in,
Do right, Do Right, Do Right...

The lights flashed and the newest signed Fighter on the Asylum roster was revealed. Frank Minio. Earlier they had seen Frank compromising the Asylum's reputation. Clean fighting in the Asylum? Well, clean was really a bad way to put it, however, Frank Minio had compromised the stabbings, the rape, the carnage, with his Martial Arts and his campy techniques. The Asylum fans began a mixed reaction, most giving unenthusiastic Boos at the man as he walked down.

Frank watched them as he walked down, tossing Styrofoam cups, hotdogs, someone even tossed a beer bottle that Frank dodged. He could only shake his head thinking. "This wasn't what happened in my dream." He gripped the gold title over his shoulder tightly. "I'm a champion, this is no entrance for a champ." He muttered to himself as he handed his title to the time keeper, then climbed into the Asylum, for his first time.

"Love. Your hate. Your faith. Lost." the deep drums of AFI's Miseria Cantare- The Beginning played over the PA system, Null-State pushed himself onto the metal ramp way, moving down it stoically with the music over his shadow. He kept dead set eyes on Frank Minio in the Asylum, moving towards him at a steady pace. They were about the same size, but Null-State carried himself a certain way, making it seem as if he towered over Frank.

Null-State climbed into the Asylum, and as the ref muttered something about a beginning, Frank walked inward, taking stance on the balls of his feet, and then launched himself towards Null-State. Null-State stepped backwards, reflexes firing off a fist towards Minio, who barely dodged to the side, moving inside of Null-State's dead zone, and began punching him in the kidney, he got two off, before Null-State drove a fist into Frank's kidney also. They traded blows against each other, locked against the side of the Asylum, pounding each other's sides for about ten seconds, before Null-State finally shoved Frank backwards.

He stumbled, faltered, and fell. Null-State stepped forward, trying to stomp on his fallen opponent, but Frank rolled backwards, launching from a knee to catch Null-State's leg, locking onto it, trying to pull him over in a take down. Null-State was having none of it, and drove his fist square into Frank's forehead twice, then his jaw, sending Minio down onto his back. Null-State stepped over, sitting down on Frank's chest with a knee. They chanted for blood as Null-State began to rain his fists down.

Null-State began drilling Frank Minio in the face...

ONCE -- CRACK!
TWICE --- CRACK!
A THIRD TIME ---- CRACK!
FOURTH -------------- SLAP!

Frank had landed a clean palm strike under Null-State's nose, but his hand slipped on sweat, not hurting him nearly as much as Frank had hoped. Null rolled back, his eyes watering up in ears after his nose had been compromised. Frank Minio saw opportunity, and climbed to his feet, taking a step back to see Null-State, who was rubbing the tears from welling up in his eyes.

Null-State crawled to his knees, and saw Frank Minio standing above him in stance. He waved Frank in, challenging him, confident as ever below Frank. And Frank obliged. He kicked Null-State square in the forehead, and Null-State slid back on his knees, leaning all the way backwards.

The Referee stalked in to check for a knockout, but Null-State pushed himself upward, watching the bloodied Minio with his cleared eyes. Frank had now noticed the scars from Null-State's cheek to his neck, and debated on what he had gotten himself into. But he stepped back, and delivered another kick, flat across the forehead. Null-State slid back on his knees again, leaning back.

Null-State pushed himself back up before the referee could even get near him, his body suddenly gone graceful. He spun on his back, twisting his body almost like a break-dancer. But it was in vain, as Minio finished wiping off the blood from his lip, he lashed a foot own, his Muay Thai style now showing itself, his leg moved with lightning speed, which seemed to contradict his style from a few moments ago.

Null-State fell to his side, face down, arms at his sides. Frank stepped back, waiting to attack again, and the referee got between Frank and Null-State, who was now out cold. Frank grabbed his title from the timekeeper, kissing it, raising his arms like a boxer, and realized that the fans didn't give a damn. They didn't cheer, they didn't boo, they just collectively screamed various things as "Blood" by El-P began, to signal Frank's victory. They got what they wanted, or at least somewhat; they received a public execution. While they would have preferred death,
it would do.

For now.

Inside the halls of the Asylum, weird things tend to happen, people die, fans get hurt, illegal substances are abused, and most of all championship belts do things that no one ever thought they could. Starting with Angel Dalton, the Asylum championship was rumored to have a unique ability to actually converse with it’s holder, but that left the question whether it was really happening or was it all in Dalton’s head? Now something weird happened to another belt, and it seems like everyone backstage at the Asylum would rather have the assumption be made of it running off on it’s own. But that’s a vantage point, that current Television Champion, Carnage would never buy, even if he had money to spare, because as far as he was concerned there was one person who took his title….

…Eddie Cheno.

To Carnage, and to everyone who saw what went on it made sense, the two talked and made peace and then the lights go out.. Carnage got clobbered, got back up, and when the lights came back, the assailant and the title were both gone. Who else but Cheno? Who else had any motive? Something deep inside Carnage made him do something he wouldn’t do normally, in this case.. Think. He knew Cheno, was the main suspect, but as of right now he wanted to know who else was a suspect. And what better way to find out than ask Joe Campbell?

And without a moment to question the thought, Carnage burst through Joe’s office. One of these times, one of these times, Campbell’s going to be caught in the middle of anything, but luckily for all parties involved, now wasn’t one of those times. Joe jumped up to his feet, on the defensive, “What the fuck do you want?”

Carnage stalked closer to the desk, like he was watching his pray from a far, “I want you to tell Cheno to give me my God damned title.”

Joe’s hands up in front of him as he now stood behind his desk, “I asked him Cornelius, he doesn’t have..”

“Don’t call me that!” Carnage looked in the corner, and noticed that Dez was absent, his gaze returned to Joe as his yellowed smile flashed, like a warning sign for Joe to Yield.

“I asked him, he said he doesn’t have the fucken title.” Carnage inched closer to the desk, until his hands rested on Joe’s desk. At the same time, Joe’s left hand was fumbling with the top desk drawer, but something seemed to cause it to stick.

“Is that so, Joe? Then who would you say HAS IT?!” With a large amount of force Carnage shoved the desk out of the way, leaving the one obstacle between himself and Campbell.. Oxygen. And Carnage charged forward, Joe would’ve tried to attack but now he was simply a retarded person fascinated by bright lights while they’re about to get plowed over by a train.

Finally when Joe broke out of the trance he tried to move, but it was too late, Carnage had him gripped up by the collar and he slammed his back into the wall. “What’d you say, who was it?!”

The grapefruits of Joe ripened “Fuck you, I ain’t telling you shite.”

SLAM!

He was picking himself on the ground grimacing, as he held his back, Carnage rushed in and snapped his knife out of his pocket and he placed it on Joe’s throat. “Tough guy Joe, tough guy.. But your sharp tongue will get you killed one of these days, you want it to be today? I don’t mind Joe.. Not at all.. Haha.. As a matter of fact, I’m going to kill you anyway Joe, so whatdya say why put off for later this year what I can do now? Now who’s got MY fucken title?!”

“ARRGH!”

“I don’t comprehend Joe!” Carnage screamed as the knife pressed so hard against Joe’s throat blood began to pour from beneath the blade. “Come on talk! All this time you had shit to say Joe, but everyone’s gone Joe, and the ones still around all have their own problems. No one gives a fuck Joe.. No one! Now I ask one more time Joe, who the fuck too my belt?”

Joe began to cough as the pressure on his throat rose, his ear watered because of the burning pain on his neck, and his eyes looked up towards the door and he saw an individual standing there. He blinked once, and twice, and then a third time trying to clear away the blurriness. Carnage shook him again, “If I have to ask one more time Joe, I’m going to have to kill you.”

“Sebastian..”

“What’d you say?” The figure begin to walk into the room, as Carnage continued to tighten his hold on Campbell. Campbell blinked his eyes again trying to clear them to get a good look of the man who entered the room. Joe spoke again this time his words clear to even Carnage..

“Sebastian..”

Immediately Carnage’s eyes shot up from where they were before and as his eyes ventured up, he saw a pair of ripped jeans, and then the leatherjacket that was worn over the hooded sweatshirt of the same color. As their eyes locked, and Carnage felt a deep fire burn from within, a fire that was felt only by those who have been burned by the touch of betrayal..

“You fucking bastard!!~” Carnage slammed Joe to the ground, leaving the Asylum owner to sit up grasping his throat, “After all this you fucking turn on me Sebastian?”

“The fuck?!”

Carnage was up and looked at the Phoenix, who had his fighting stance ready, “Not here.. Get the fuck out there, I’m going to kill you.” Carnage brushed shoulders with Sebastian and walked by. Thompson looked back at Carnage who was leaving, and then back to Joe, he kneeled at Joe’s side.

“What the fuck just happened here?”

Joe looked down at his hand which was painted with a thin layer of claret that came from his neck, “You want to show your allegiance to me? You want me to fucken forget about him helping you when Willis was kicking your ass? Then you go the fuck out there, beat him, and rid the Asylum of that fucken twat.”

Sebastian took a deep breath, and looked back towards the doorway, he was gone, but that didn’t matter, now was going to be an important road that he had to cross. He didn’t know what happened in the room, but something wrong happened, and now.. Now he was Joe’s night in shining armor. Maybe he knew what he was talking about all along?

August Monday strolled down the halls backstage at the Show, just moseying around and familiarizing himself with his new surroundings. This was new to him.

Sure, he'd been in Kage Fighting Inc. and fought over at thReat, but this was completely different. This place was an institution for fighting. It was this hybrid formation that had taken the world by storm and it was invite only.

He'd received his invite personally from Joe Campbell himself.

So here he was. Familiarizing himself and sipping from a glass bottle of Coca-Cola. He just wandered and let the faces soak in, just so he knew who he was dealing with when he overheard someone's conversation.

"...so basically I have this exceptionally high pain tolerance, and there really isn't anything that hurts me," said the unfamiliar voice.

August stopped in his tracks. This was indeed an intriguing conversation.

He stopped by a notice board and pretended to read a poster about quitting smoking. This only urged him to spark one up as he listened.

"I swear to God," the immaculately dressed man said to a technician, "I've got an amazing pain threshold. You burn my hand and I probably wouldn't even feel it. Couple this with the fact that I'm filthy rich, I'm living the American Dream."

A grin came across August Monday's face as he eavesdropped. This couldn't be possible, could it? Augie was completely taken over by his intrigue and curiosity.

He turned and made his way over to the conversation that was taking place, interrupting the flow of their words.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear what you were saying to your little bud here. Monday's the name. You can't feel pain?" August queried.

The young man looked at him with a glance that he knew who he was but didn't really seem to give a damn. August crossed his arms but left his smoking hand at a nice close distance to his smoking mouth.

He drew back and puffed a cloud at the technician who rebutted with a cough.

"I know who you are. They call me the Bizarre Kid because I don't want to be called something boring and mundane. And I know for sure that I can't feel pain, and I never have," said the youngster.

August nodded.

"Really? You're trying to sell me the story that you've never, EVER felt pain?" he queried again.

The young man, Bizarre Kid as he dubbed himself, just nodded. He was clearly not impressed that he had to reiterate what he'd just affirmed.

"I'm sorry. I just find this, well, bullshit to say the least. Is this genetic or some sort of drug or what? This really makes no sense to me," August told the Kid.

"I have no idea. Is there something I can help you with or are you just gonna stand there and insult me like the barbarian you appear to be." he asked August.

He made a "REEEOWRR" cat-type noise and a scratch of the left hand with a dry sarcasm that could only be expressed by Monday alone.

"Sheesh, tie your rags on properly, girlfriend. I'm just asking a fucking question," August reaffirmed, "So this isn't gonna hurt if I do this?"

And with that, August pulled his half-drunk bottle of Coke up and smashed it over the Kid's face. His eyebrow split open and he staggered back a little. He kept checking the gash with a finger and looking at the blood.

August chuckled to himself.

"That hurt?"

He drew back on the last of his cigarette and flicked it to the ground, stomping it as he walked off down the hall.

In his young career in the Asylum, Sebastian Thompson was already reaching a crossroads. During his entire tenure in tA, a dark cloud hung over his head, and with each step he took the rain of conspiracy theories poured down on his head. Everyone thought that he was in cahoots with Carnage on the plot to destroy the Asylum. And who could possibly blame anyone who jumped to that assumption? The two always seemed to gravitate back to the other. People have heard whispers, and seen shadows moving that proved the alliance. The man who was dubbed the Phoenix, by the legion of Smilthy’s fanatics, was ready to face perhaps his biggest test, slaying his personal demon, and winning over the faith of Campbell. If any night was a night for him to give his best effort, now was it…

“Jerk-off” by Tool. Sebastian Thompson made his way out to the arena, but he stopped at the top of the ramp and he looked around the thousands of fans, all of whom immediately burst into boos, and taunts. The fans anger at the three win fighter, brought a smile to his face. Here he was fighting for Joe Campbell, fighting against a guy with a plan to tear the place down, and they boo him? Thompson began his trek down to the ring raising the double phoenix to the crowd. Thompson got into the ring, and began to bounce around inside, the moment his music faded the crowd spoke in unison..

CARNAGE IS GONNA KILL YOU!

Sebastian tried to fight the urge as he looked up towards the ramp, he shook his head, the crowd got louder thinking their chant was getting to him, finally the Phoenix called for a mic, and much to the chagrin of the fans he received it.

“Tell him to do it.. I’ll even fucken help you.. CARNAGE COME AND KILL ME.. CARNAGE COME AND KILL ME… Come on Cornelius, it’s time to end this shit, I don’t know why you found me, why you wanted me to help you destroy Campbell. I had nothing to gain from it, but tonight I’ve got everything to gain. Most of all RESPECT. You see Carnage, I know you.. I paid my way, you were a wrestler. You wrestled of all places in fWo, while I was fucken down in Smilthy’s earning my way to this day.

“Unlike you, I’m not living a gimmick. I’m not playing crazy black guy, Steven Spielberg can suck my cock, and cherish the taste of my sack, because what I am can’t be captured on screen. It can’t be captured by some loser sitting home writing shit on his computer. It can’t even be fucken comprehended by these fucken Colostomy hole fucken bastards. But what I am.. Can be seen tonight! So get the hell out here Carnage, I want to show the pay per view audience at home.. Who the Phoenix is.”

Thompson tossed the microphone into the crowd, as he yanked off his leatherjacket-sweatshirt combo revealing the tattoos and marks all over his body. He shook his hair, sending his brunet hair flapping from side to side, as he shadow boxed in the ring..

But the shadow disappeared along with everything else as the lights went out!

The crowd noise grew to a murmur, flash bulbs, and lighters were thrust into the air as the fans wanted to see exactly what was going on. The lights flashed back on and the crowd burst into a loud cheer as Carnage stood behind Thompson with his arms crossed. Carnage, Cornelius Corteia, the Crazy Corteia, no matter the name he went by his goal was simple.. Work his way up the ranks and eventually take down the Asylum. But only one man knew his whole plan and that was himself, right now he needed a win to retain his title, to keep himself in the Asylum for at least another week. Only thing that stood in his way was Sebastian Thompson, and right now.. Sebastian had no clue Carnage was in the ring.

Now he did, as he turned around the fury filled face of Corteia, Sebastian jumped back from the surprise of the champ standing right behind him. Carnage’s arms unfolded as the ref ran into the ring, and the bell signaled. Sebastian charged in with a wild punch, but it caught nothing but air as Carnage ducked under and grabbed onto Thompson’s waist..

Snap Belly-to Belly Suplex!

The mat shook, as both competitors jumped back to their feet quickly. Sebastian went for a punch, but at the last second held off and pointed at his head hinting at the fact he had some intelligence. Both men began to circle the ring, half crouched over as they measured the other. Carnage charged in with a spear.. But he caught nothing but empty space, as Sebastian jumped up. Immediately Sebastian fired a boot towards the head of Carnage.. Only to find his entire leg in the grasp of Carnage. The Phoenix tried to bound out of his move as he continued to jump, finally as Carnage attempted to lift him, Thompson threw all his weight backwards..

Only to hang himself in a harsh single-leg Boston crab as Carnage alternated the hold on the leg, and arched his back as far as it go drawing fierce cries from Thompson. The ref was down on all fours asking whether or not Sebby wanted to quit, “No!” he screamed loudly. Thompson reached for everything he could in front of him but all that lay in front of him was mat, to the North, to the South, to the East, to the West. There was another direction that he didn’t scout beforehand, as Seb reached up and grabbed a handful of Carnage’s hair and he yanked!

“AH FUCK!”

But his grip was no longer tight as a handful of Carnage’s hair was ripped out. The TV Champion jumped forward screaming in pain releasing the hold, his hand reached up towards his head feeling for blood. Back on his feet, Sebastian watched from a distance as he cringed when he put pressure on his right leg. Slowly he made his way to the downed Corteia, and he slowly yanked him back to his feet by his hair, and he rocked him back with a right fist to the jaw. Sebastian went for a left, but that drew air, as Carnage drove his shoulder hard into the midsection of Thompson sending his back hard into the Asylum rim!

Not going on mid-match vacation, the Crazy Corteia lifted Sebastian up and sat him on the cage rim. Carnage slowly but surely followed him up. Balancing himself delicately on the thin piece of metal, Carnage grabbed a hold of Sebastian’s head and went to lift.. Blocked by Sebastian. Carnage went to lift again.. But the attempt was blocked yet again. Third try, and this time he felt a hard knee right into his midsection doubling him over. Carnage fell off.. Wait, no he didn’t, at the last second steadying himself with a grab of the top of the cage, Sebastian took advantage of this opportunity, as he lifted Carnage and power bombed him into the ring!

The ref was down to quickly make the count.

1... Carnage slowly breathing as he looked up into the rafters…

2... Sebastian rolled grimacing as he held his right knee..

3... Slowly Sebastian shoved himself to his feet with the aid of the cage..

4... Carnage was up on all fours and *STOMP* now he wasn’t.

Sebastian followed up with a succession of stomps to the lower back of Carnage.
“Get the fuck up, I’m still waiting for you to kill me Carnage, come on, make ‘em happy.”

Carnage pulled himself over to the corner, and inch by inch of mesh he brought himself to his feet, Sebastian charged forward with a clothesline.. Carnage ducked! Backdrop out of the ring~!

Not QUITE!

Sebastian showing his most athletic movement since arriving in tA, hung in the air changing his position so he could grab a hold of the steel rim. Sebastian stood strong on the mat, but Carnage came forward throwing a right punch, Sebastian leaned back avoiding the blow. Pulling himself forward, Thompson fired himself over the ring towards Carnage with a shoulder block, but the Crazy Corteia avoided the move.

Thompson determined to win, yanked himself off the mat and began to pace as he waited for Carnage to come his way. “Didn’t have to be this way Carnage, you should’ve just let the plan go, forgot about it, went on being someone no one cared about. But you couldn’t. You stupid fuck, you couldn’t.”

As fast as quicksilver, Carnage’s hand reached in and out of his pocket pulling out his knife, rolling on the balls of his feet he finally charged forward swinging the blade forward. Sebastian jumped back once, twice, three times but Carnage continued to press forward until Sebastian’s back was touching the rim..

SLASH!

You sunk my battleship.

Sebastian reached down and touched the seared flesh where the deep incision leaked mass amounts of claret. Carnage swung the knife again, but this time Sebastian rolled out of the way, and retaliated with a hard right cross which caused Carnage’s lip to bleed. Sebastian kept his stance solid as he closed in on his opponent, he came around with a left hook but..

The Crazy Corteia ducked, and threw his head under Sebastian’s arm, he went and lifted for a Northern Lights Suplex!!!..

But the move wasn’t completed, Sebastian put all his weight back and nailed a massive DDT! The crowd gasped as the Phoenix got back on his feet and screamed in the air, they couldn’t believe what was happening, an Asylum mainstay being taken advantage of by a rookie who’s struggled a lot. Sebastian made his way over to the cage wall and demanded a chair, his wish was quickly answered.

The ref’s count was at three..

3...

4... Slowly Sebastian stalked with the chair towards the downed body of Carnage, he lifted the chair and…

POW!

Thompson laid out the referee with the steel chair! Thompson tossed the belt to the side, then lifted the ref by his thing black hair and tossed him head first into the cage wall. The crowd booed as Sebastian plowed into the ref with rights and lefts to the face, finally he lifted him and tossed him to ringside.

The fans booed heavily, as Sebastian strutted cockily towards the TV champion, and began to aid him back to his back to his feet but he shot up the rest of the way nailing the low blow on Thompson! Luckily for Seb, Carnage no longer held the knife in that hand or he would be bidding farewell to his manhood. Carnage shot his head forward and began to rip at the cut across Sebby’s abdomen with his teeth, bringing the rook to scream in pain, and the bloodthirsty mob to give a scream of approval.
Sebastian shoved back at Carnage’s head breaking the pitbull tight grip, Sebastian stumbled as he held his gut now that it burned in ferocious pain, only to fall victim to a fast rising uppercut by Carnage! Knocking the Pittsburgh native back into the wall! Carnage charged forward and hit the clothesline..

And Sebastian fell out of the ring!

Carnage won!

Carnage won!

….

Or he would’ve, had the ref not been unconscious on the outside of the ring. Carnage feeling a new burst of energy charged back to across the ring hoping to garner momentum, then he ran back towards the direction where Thompson was slowly getting back to his feet.. SPRINGBOARD CORKSCREW BODYPRESS! And it connects!

CARNAGE!

The Crazy Corteia pushed back up to his feet and thrust his hand in the air, and the place got so loud the roof should’ve blown off, he stumbled back into the announce table, trying to get his bearings straight. He looked down on Sebastian and watched as ten seconds had come and gone, but that didn’t matter, they were outside the ring, the ref was still out, this battle was now taking place in no man’s land, even less rules than the Asylum.

Carnage grabbed Sebastian’s locks and pulled him up to his knees slowly Sebastian’s head propped up…

FIREBALL~!

HOLY SHIT!

Sebastian watched as Carnage screamed in pain and squirmed with his back against the announce table, Sebastian clotheslined him onto it. Both men stood on the table, Carnage still holding his eyes, Sebastian reached down with a homemade solution as he yanked the monitor from the table, and swung it and smashed the monitor into the side of Carnage’s head busting him open! Blood rushed from Carnage’s head as he fell hard on the table! Sebastian tossed the monitor to the ground, and focused his attention all on Carnage yet again..

Almost like a cat batting around a dead mouse, Sebastian smacked Cornelius around before bringing him to a stand by yanking and ripping his shirt in the process. Sebastian reached around Carnage’s neck, and lifted..

And nailed the Cobra Clutch Suplex! Third Degree Burn through the Table!

They hated Sebastian with all their hearts, but they couldn’t help it, it was almost like the drive to chant was programmed into them it all started with one kid up in the nose bleed seats and it flowed through the arena like the Wave.. No they aren’t doing that crap, it’s spreading like it.. The fans chanted a move that was completed by Sebastian.

HOLY SHIT!

He stood to his feet hobbling, and he raised the double phoenix, and at once the fans began to boo again, the trash began to fly towards him, he was enjoying the Asylum’s version of the ticker tape parade. He stood amongst the ruble that was formerly the announce table, and he placed his boot on Carnage’s neck and stood firmly.. Watching as the champion coughed under his pressure..

And slowly but surely, a quiet chant crossed Sebastian’s lips, “Carnage is gonna kill me, Carnage is gonna kill me, Carnage is gonna kill me..” He could barely contain the laugh, as he watched his former acquaintance squirm under his steel toed boot. Finally the pressure was removed as Sebastian turned from Carnage and walked towards the ring, flipping up the apron..

The Asylum cage was being turned into his own personal play room, as he tossed in two tables, a rope, a 2x4, a football helmet, a small pouch type bag, a taser, a ring of barbed wire, he walked over to the timekeeper, and grabbed the ring bell and threw that in as well. He opened the door, and tossed the ref back on the inside, and then he turned again towards Carnage Corteia. He dragged the seemingly lifeless body of Corteia up the steps by his leg and into the cage.

The ref, still submerged in dream street wasn’t helping Sebastian’s cause any, Sebastian slowly stalked over and reached down grimacing as he did so, and he picked up the taser. He pushed the trigger allowing the electric pulse to cross, proving it was real, he then put it down into the back of the ref, and pushed the trigger jolting the official and causing him to scream painfully.

“Get the fuck up!” Sebastian screamed, as he yanked the ref to his feet and tossed him into the cage wall, Sebastian tucked the taser in his pocket as he began to shake the ref. “Fucken start the damned count, you wop bastard.”

Completely alienated by the whole situation the ref began to count..

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

9...

10?…

NO! Carnage was up on his feet at half stance at the last second, nullifying Sebastian’s chance at closing the match. Sebastian snapped the taser from out of his pocket and charged forward, but Carnage kicked it out of his hands! Carnage charged forward with a spear…

CINDERS~!

360 Elbow Smash to the face of the champ dropping him to the mat! Sebastian bounced around on his left leg, as the ref counted again..

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

9...

10..?

NO! Carnage got to his feet yet again! Sebastian tried to be calm about it, as he ripped up the chair from earlier and took a swing at Carnage, but this time the former fWo Hardcore champion dodged the assault, Sebastian charged forward again with the chair head high…

FUCKHEAD!

Carnage took a page from the book of Borst, busting open Sebastian’s nose with the ferocious punch through the steel chair and to the face of the Phoenix. The chair clattered down to the mat as Carnage shot forward, harsh kick to the midsection by Sebastian doubling the champ over, Thompson goes down for the jawbreaker..

But Carnage nails a low kick of his own doubling the Phoenix over.. Double underhook, Carnage lifts and nails a double under-hook power bomb! Sebastian’s back bounding off the barbed wire ring! Sebastian got up quickly, and the barbed wire didn’t stick deep enough to cause bleeding.

Carnage set up the two tables on top of each other and picked up the little pouch and ripped it open spreading all the thumbtacks that resided inside across the table. Suddenly Sebastian shot up and tried to toss Carnage up on the table, but the Coatesvillian fought off the attempt and kicked backwards pushing Thompson away. Patting his elbow, Thompson stood back and charged forward..

CINDERS!..

NO! Dropkick to the right knee by Carnage causing Sebastian to stumble. Carnage grabbed onto Sebastian’s hand and Irish whipped him across the ring, using his guile Thompson baseball slid under the table and jumped back to his feet slowly as he held his knee. Carnage charged around the table with a clothesline, but Sebastian blocked it and used the momentum to put himself behind Carnage. He had his arm locked around Carnage’s neck! The crowd booed as they knew it meant the that the Third Degree Burn was coming, for the second time in the match, but as Sebastian lifted he was on the receiving end of a vicious mule kick! Say goodbye to the chillun!

Carnage went behind Sebastian, and gripped him from the rear and lifted.. BACKDROP DRIVER THROUGH THE THUMBTACKS AND THE TABLES~!

HOLY FUCKEN SHIT~!

CARNAGE~!

The chants went on simultaneously, as the champion without a belt to show for his status, pushed up to his feet slowly and the fans were jumping up and down ecstatic, the ref began the count.

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

9...

10..?

…..

10?!~

…..

10?!

…..

Not in this day! Sebastian stood, with thumbtacks stuck throughout his entire body, some spotting wings of his tattooed Phoenix on his back. He was a bloody mess, there was no reason for him to be standing, there was no logic behind his motive to continue, often in the Asylum the typical logic is thrown out. Sebastian had to win this, he needed Joe’s trust more than he needed to breath, his teeth gritted tight as his eyes burned with tears. He continued to march forward to Carnage and he swung a right punch..

Dodged by Carnage, who nailed a left. Sebastian went back and stumbled badly almost falling. He got his bearings back and charged forward like a dog with three legs, stumbling as he went along and he ran right into a DTH~! Face first into the steel chair!

Carnage had him dead to rights, but it wasn’t good enough, he needed the finishing touch.. Carnage crossed the ring and grabbed the roll of barbed wire and slowly unrolled it. Soon after he began to wrap his fist with it, Sebastian’s fingers searched for something solid to aid him.

Carnage slowly made his way towards the downed Sebastian as he finished tightening the barbed wire around his arm, he was preparing for a finishing blow to the face but as he grabbed Sebastian’s brunet locks and brought him to his feet..

SMACK!

Sebastian leveled Carnage with the football helmet! The Phoenix dropped too his knees completely exhausted, and delirious due to the drastic loss of blood, he released the face mask dropping the helmet to the ground as he watched Carnage fall. If Sebastian believed in God, now would be a time he would pray..

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

9...

10..?!

NEW CHAMP~!

NEW CHAMP~!

Wait a second, Carnage got to his feet and with that the entire crowd burst into a loud ovation. Sebastian felt light headed as he forced himself back up, his eyes rolled back into his head as he tried to get a good standing, he had to win, he needed this.. HE WANTED this match, he couldn’t let Carnage take it from him. But as he looked into Carnage’s eyes he noticed that what he saw in those eyes..

What’s a native of Earth, it was something else entirely..

His nose was a bloody mess another hit and it would look like Michael Jackson’s, well not that bad, but almost.. He had a big slash across the side of his face, his body should’ve been aching but there he stood, and he began… to laugh?!

“HAHAHahAhahahahaHAHAhahahAhahAhAhaHAHA!”

The laugh sent a chill up Sebastian’s spine as he couldn’t break eye contact with the truly Crazy Corteia, he charged forward, and the two began to trade rights and lefts, Sebastian’s blows getting weaker as time went on, while Carnage’s got stronger, with the barbed wire fist ripping at Sebby‘s skin. His blows began to rock Sebastian’s whole body backwards sending him into the cage wall. Sebastian strutted forward the best he could, there was no longer any cockiness in the strut, it was the only way he could walk..

Carnage looked down at the right knee and smiled as he charged in with a shoulder block taking Sebastian off his feet. Sebastian was brought back to his feet, and Carnage applied a rear waist lock, and lifted nailing a Snap German Suplex!

And another…

And another…

And another…

And another…

And the fans were left chanting…

ONE MORE TIME~!

Carnage picked up Sebastian Thompson and nailed the sixth and final Snap German suplex of the match, leaving the former Smilthy’s legend’s body a complete wreck on the mat. Carnage Corteia climbed up the cage and leapt off nailing the second half of Maximum Carnage.. Only fitting for a match like this.. The ref got down for the count..

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

9...

10..?!

10~!!

It was over, Carnage remained champion! Sebastian remained with trust, he had a goal, and he failed to reach it, it was right there but it was gone like water through his finger tips, no longer did he have a friend in Carnage.. No longer, did he have anyone in the Asylum that even had his back by mistake, once again in his life Sebastian Thompson was all alone. But not just yet..

“Adrenaline Rush” blared over the speakers, but Carnage wasn’t going anywhere, instead he asked for a microphone, and his music faded back out.

The hype from Carnage’s win slowly died down as he tapped the mic in the center of the ring, he stood looking around at the fans all in the arena. Carnage was never known for making a statement to an entire arena of fans, but now seemed to be the proper time to announce something, and the fans wanted to know exactly what it was..

“Campbell, get your fucking ass out here, I killed him, and I don’t see my damned title belt. So I want you to just come down here, and explain yourself. And if you don’t, I’m going to go back there and finish what I started earlier.”

Carnage walked over and yanked Sebastian to his feet and slammed his back into the rim. Carnage walked away from Sebastian and paced the ring, waiting ever so impatiently for Joe to arrive. Just as Carnage prepared to speak over the mic again, “Smack my Bitch up” by Prodigy played, and the crowd went nuts as Joe Campbell, the world’s biggest scumbag made his way out to the ring. But wisely Joe stopped at the bottom of the ramp.

“What the fuck do you want now?”

“You know what I want Joe, I want my title, you said Cheno didn’t have it, and you said this motherfucker has it. I’m not here to be subject to mindfuckings, I’m just here to do my job Campbell..” Campbell stepped up and interrupted Carnage.

“Your job? Your job? Hah! What about you wanting to destroy the Asylum? I don’t think you get paid to do that you bloody cunt rag.”

“Hmmph. Then maybe I get paid for telling your friend over here,” motions towards Sebastian, “A secret about you and his family?”

Joe’s skin seemed to turn a shade paler, as he took a step back up the ramp, “Wh.. Wha..What the fuck are you on about?”

“Come on Joe? I know, you know. When Sebastian left Smilthy’s so many years ago, you knew that you were losing a potential goldmine. You didn’t like him, but you appreciated him for killing that undercover for you, you wanted him back Joe, you wanted him to be back in the system. But he was Joe Bag of Donuts, worked a 9-5, had a wife and two kids.. He was a good man, he didn’t fight Joe.. He bought groceries, and toys for his kids.” Joe shook his head as he was listening to what Carnage was saying..

“Wh.. Where the fuck are you getting that shite?! Sebastian, I had nothing to do with it…”

“You tried to kill his family twice Joe, you had men try and carjack him, but he fought the guys off.. The second time he was gone shopping, Campbell. He went shopping for Christmas, only to come home and see his kids and wife slain. People don’t choose this life on their own Joe, especially after they change for the better, they don’t come back to this shit. Especially not Smilthy’s. But after killing his three loved ones, do you have anything to say for yourself Joe?”

Joe didn’t speak as he stood on the little of the ramp, and looked up to the ring, as dastardly a guy Joe Campbell was, he couldn’t find the words to cover the truth this time, it was right there the whole time.

“That’s all I needed to hear Joe, that’s more than enough. Perfect. Thanks.” Carnage turned to look over to Sebastian, “What do you have to say about it? Your best friend Campbell, looks to be a little less trustworthy than he took you Sebastian.”

Carnage flipped the mic over to Sebastian, and the wounded rookie caught it and wore an evil stare, “I.. I.. I..” He looked up at Joe and then over at Carnage, and his brow furrowed. “I don’t care, look at me now, look where I’m at. I would’ve never reached this if I was stuck with the family. Things happen for a reason, and I’m better off here than the land of Leave it to Beaver. This is who the fuck I am, fuck the family guy.. And fuck you too..” Sebastian dropped the mic as he hobbled out of the cage, and out to the back, Carnage just watched and shook his head before exiting through the crowd.

Fatts McGarron looked at the can of Diet Coke that had just been dispensed from the vending machine, and nodded, before cross-referencing with the sheet of paper in his hand. McGarron always somehow managed to mess up the drinks that Lucinda & Karen wanted. This time, he took a safety precaution.

He had Lucy write down whatever they wanted.

Picking up the can, he began whistling a tune. Life didn't seem as sucky as it used to, and he was even able to brag about having lost a few pounds. Wasn't really noticeable, but it was the truth. Life with Lucinda & The British Lassie meant he had a lot of chores to do, and training sessions to attend. That, in turn, led to his confidence & self-esteem being boosted, even though he got reprimanded quite often.

Fatts didn't care, he was getting a semi-decent reward out of the deal.

Walking down the hallway, he began to wonder if anyone would be up for a fight tonight. Fatts suddenly had the urge to get involved in some action, to maybe showcase some of the skills he'd picked up. And maybe even come out victorious. Yes, Fatts actually did think that he would be able to finally, actually, win a match.

The first time he'd won a fight, and it wasn't really a victory. Everytime McGarron thought about that night just a mere few weeks ago, he became angry and despondent. Eddie Scott Poser was his opponent, and Eddie Scott Poser was the true winner. He'd screwed Fatts out of absolute joy. Karen & Lucinda tried to make it a big deal, saying the fact of the matter was... Fatts won.

He didn't feel that way at all. McGarron wanted another round with Poser, to make sure that he got the job done right, on this occasion. But Poser had left the company.

At least, that's what Fatts thought.

Because, from behind, the King of Poland sneaked up on Fatts... and cracked a slab of plywood over his head. Fatts didn't even have time to groan in agony or whatever, he simply collapsed to the ground. Completely out cold. The can of Diet Coke bounced off the floor and rolled away, before the boot of someone else came down on it. Liquid flew everywhere, and some of it splashed onto the face of Fatts McGarron.

Eddie sqeualed in delight and clapped his hands, delighted.

"Damn, I'm glad I met a girl like you, Mercy!" the King of Poland exclaimed loudly.

Mercy simply chuckled, as she turned and walked away. Eddie followed suit, satisfied with the job he'd done. First to Karen, and now to Fatts McGarron. His 'return' to tA was proving to be quite a hit.

Probably hooking up with Mercy was the best thing he ever did.

Now these two men would step into the ring, their past accolades no longer matter in the cage. All that matters is what happens between the two men right now. One man would exit the arena tonight a loser, the other would leave as a winner. Providence had picked up many tainted victories over Token in the past weeks leading through the last PPV, and going slowly but surely into Turmoil. Token had been costed the Black Title by Providence, he had been cost the Extreme Title by Providence. Token was out to kill this man, maim him into submission. Providence had been pulled out of the cage by Token as the two made an exit at the same time, Providence could of been fighting The Freak or Kellen Kinkade either tonight, or at Fight Hell 3.

Now? The two would have to settle for each other.

It's not enough.
I need more.
Nothing seems to satisfy.
I don't want it.
I just need it.
To feel, to breathe, to know I'm alive.

Stinkfist by Tool had begun blaring as Providence stepped through the curtains, he stared down to the cage, he knew what has already gone on in that structure, and what shall go on in there is still yet to be decided. Providence made his way down and stepped through the door, tonight his hands weren't taped. He would carry nothing extra with him to the cage. This would be a straight out fight, he'd either fight fair, or die trying.

I will stone you,stone you
Wrap my arms around you
I will stone you,stone you
My little HALO

Halo by Soil kicked up and Token Weed stepped out through the curtains to a roaring ovation. He knew what he had to do tonight, he knew Providence would come into this fight with his knuckles bare, for once at least. He checked the tape on his wrists and brought his arms into the air, the reaction he appreciated, but not as much as he liked the usual jeers, the spit, the beer. He was once dispacable, but with Providence he's doing things for a reason, and now he's respected. Token looked at Providence, then to the cold steel. Token finished walking down the ramp and hopped over the railing, instantly he and Providence both squared up. Who would strike first?

Token stared at Providence.

Providence stared back at Token.

One of them had to make the first move.

Finally Token faked a jab to the face, pulling it back quickly as Providence leaned back, Token took an upper cut swing and drilled Providence in the mouth, saliva instantly flying. Providence shot backwards, he couldn't get into it like that with Token. Hell even the most technical fighters in the world, if they played Token's game, would wind up on the losing end of a punch, punch, kick, kick fight.

Providence shot to Token's right grabbing up his right leg, Token tried to spin kick his way out of it but Providence quickly ducked down letting Token's foot whiz by his head. Providence reached down and hooked Token up and lifted, dropping him to the floor of the cage with a hard northern lights suplex, Token and Providence both quickly got to their feet, Token holding his back for a brief moment.

Providence tried to capitalize on the execution of the move, by shooting to Token's right once again. Token reached out and grabbed Providence by the back of the head and drove his knee hard into Providence's face, Providence had expected a quick trip to the ground, but Token kept ahold of his head and drove it hard into the rim of the Asylum before letting Providence slide down the wall of the cage. Token took a step back and dove drop kicking Providence's face against the mesh, Token stood up and smiled as Providence continued laying against the cage in a daze.

He reached down and grabbed Providence by the hair and began dragging Providence's face across the cage. Instantly the fans began cheering, Token grinned a sly smile. He knew why these people were cheering, he had managed to bloody Providence finally. Token pulled Providence away from the cage and tossed him to the middle of the cage, his face was cut across on his forehead, and across his nose. Token took a step back, he was going to make an attempt to just crush Providence's nose to pieces with a hard heel kick to the face.

He lifted his leg up...

Swung it down...

Hit nothing but the floor of the asylum.

Providence rolled to his feet and drilled the stunned Token Weed with a hard right hand, Providence reached up brushing back his bloody hair out of his eyes, took another swing and connected this time with Token's stomach doubling him over. Providence took a step back and drilled Token in the face with a hard kick, Token wen't flying backwards leaning against the cage wall. Providence would go for the kill now, he'd send Weed over the rim of the Asylum. His mind was already made up on the way to go about it.

Providence took off running from one end of the Asylum to the other, he swung going for a huge clothesline, but Token ducked out, letting Providence crash himself into the Asylum rim. He was dazed, and slowly turned around, the blood still seeping from his wounds. As he turned Token cocked back and let go a ferocious hook kick that sent Providence instantly to the ground. Token took a step back grinning as the ref made the count.

1!

2!

3!

4!

Providence reached out and grabbed the cage, he slowly pulled himself to his feet as Token stalked closer to his prey. Providence was leaning up against the cage, totally out of it.

Token sprung forward driving a hard kick across Providence's shoulder sending him down hard to the canvas. Providence reached out gripping Token's calf and giving a solid tug letting Token go back first against the mat. Providence rolled to his feet, clutching his shoulder for a minute before squaring up with Token again. The two traded a few blows before Providence finally used the cheap way out kicking Token in the family jewels and dropped him with a hard DDT.

Providence SO wasn't done yet. He reached down gripping Token by his injured neck, squeezing and driving fist after fist into his face relentlessly. Providence, finally watching Token's face turn to a purple let go, as Token rolled across the canvas grasping at his neck in utter dismay.

Providence took a step back and charged driving a hard upward kick into Token's ribs sending the shocked Weed into the cage. Providence once again backed himself up a few paces and like an old gun slinger let a kick explode, this time Token dodged out of the way and rolled around kicking Providence in the back of the knee sending him crashing to the canvas flat on his back.

Token brought himself to his feet, as did Providence, the two instantly collided in the center of the ring with a flury of punches. Providence had once more left his game plan and gone into the fast paced fist on fist action against Token.

Providence realized this.

Then he realized as Token blocked a right hand and delivered an earth shattering right hand.

That he was fucked.

Token rocked Providence back against the cage once more with another right hand taking a step back and delivering a hard spinning roundhouse kick that almost took Providence's head off and put it in the third row. He instantly crumpled to the mat as the ref was quickly on top of him giving the count.

1...!

2...!

3...!

4...!

Providence struggled his way to his knees but slumped once more down to the bloodied canvas of the Asylum.

5...!

6...!

7...!

Lucky number seven, Providence rose to his feet and glared across the cage at Token. The two's eyes instantly locked.

This was no longer a fight.

This was a war.

Token taunted Providence forward giving his trademark primal scream, and instantly the crowd responded back, to Providence it sounded like a huge pack of hungry T-rex's had found him. The fans were still blood thirsty, and these two were intent on delivering in this next flury. Providence slowly begun advancing, he could not deny this crowd.

Token dove with deadly precision taking out Providence's knee, he quickly spun to his feet grabbing the knee and hopping over the rim of the cage and jerking the knee down to the concrete with him. Providence let out a scream as he rolled over to the other side of the ring. Token grinned as he reached under the cage pulling out a pair of chairs. Token tossed them into the ring, making sure one hit Providence on the way down.

Token quickly leapt back over the rim and grabbed Providence up by the hair and jammed his face into the rim, and then quickly into the mesh. Token reached down and snapped up one of the chairs, Token leant back and took aim driving Providence's face hard into the cage. Token grinned his classic sadistic grin, before smashing Providence's face once more causing blood to spew out of the cage and onto the concrete.

Providence once more slid down the cage leaving a streak of blood where he had slid down the cage and onto the mat. Token grinned as the ref stepped up and begun to count.

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

Providence had begun to get up, and Token took advantage of Providence sitting up onto his knees. Token cocked back with the chair and swung forward, Providence ducked under much to the dismay of the crowd, he reached over picking up the second chair and swinging it towards Weed. Instantly the two chairs collided in the middle of the ring.

CHAIR FIGHT!
CHAIR FIGHT!
CHAIR FIGHT!
CHAIR FIGHT!

The crowd knew what they wanted, and two delivered with Providence taking another swing and Token blocking. Token swung the blunt edge of the chair towards Providence's temple but he aptly ducked under sending his chair upwards knocking Token's chair free and sending it across the canvas. Providence, blood running down his face grinned as he faked a chair toss to Token and delivered a kick to Token's stomach hunching him over. Providence brought the chair up, then down crushing it over Token's skull sending the chair legs across the canvas. Token instantly dropped to the mat clutching the back of his head where instantly a blood spot began to form in his blue and blonde hair.

1...!

2...!

3...!

4...!

5...!

6...!

Providence held the chair high into the air the smile engraved on his face as clearly as the boos echoed from through out the crowd.

7...!

8...!

9...!

Then Token Weed once more proved his resiliance bringing himself to his feet before the ten count. Providence instantly was back onto of Token this time weilding one of the legs from the destroyed chair. He swung a hard swing at Token, Token ducked under and leapt into the air drilling Providence in the back of his head with a leaping spinning back kick. Providence was flung onto the cage rim holding himself up using it. Token walked over gripping Providence by the neck and holding him over the rim.

"You ready to take the long trip to hell Providence?" Token said grinning, dried blood caked across his face.

"Providence, are you ready to feel the pain you've caused me? I sure as hell hope so," Token said driving a solid right hand into Providence's face sending him flipping over the rim of the cage. Token grinned ever so slyly. He had an idea. He picked up the chair tossing it over the rim, Providence became aware of his predicament instantly, he hopped to his feet picking the chair up, by the time he spun around Token was already leaping off the rim of the asylum. He knew what would come next, the leg pump, then the right leg thrust forward crushing the chair into Providence's face, Providence instantly dropped to the ground, blood spraying across the first row of the crowd. Clearly his nose was broken, and a tooth or two flung onto the concrete. The ref walked over.

1...!

2...!

3...!

4...!

5...!

6...!

7...!

Token stood on the gaurd rail screaming as a few of the fans in the front row reached out and towards him looking for the slightest bit of aknowledgement.

8...!

9...!

Token spun around, he grinned looking at the carnage through out the cage, tonight was a night's work well done.

10!

The ref shouted, and instantly "Halo" by Soil kicked up as Token glared around the cage raising his arms up and walking to the back.

It was finally over.

"What the bloody hell is going on, then?!" Karen shouted, completely furious.

Lucinda shook her head, not knowing how to reply, as she paced around the locker-room. One eye on the crouched figure of Fatts McGarron, who had an icepack on his head. Karen was just standing around, unsure of what her next step was going to be. Things had been going well so far, it was a bit of a culture shock to be dealing with being outsmarted.

By Eddie Scott Poser, of all people.

That was pretty much why Karen was so angry. It hadn't taken long for her to hate Eddie, and with each day, she wanted to get rid of Poser. The chance finally came, in the form of Fatts McGarron, who saw it as his chance to prove himself. To show that he wasn't a meatball with limbs.

And in a twisted way, McGarron was victorious, and Poser willingly left the company. But that wasn't the end of the story. Nope, that point was disproven on this very night. Karen & Fatts found out first-hand.

"We can take care of this sensibly, no need to get upset. They just want to play around with us. Well, all we've got to do is comply, and take the bull by the horns. Show them just what exactly we're capable of. It's only a matter of weeks, Karen, before I get down to adding more people to our legion.

They will be outnumbered. Mercy might be powerful, but then again, we know her secrets. Well, almost all. Just one last secret, which is what is under that oh-so-pretty mask. That's the motivation for us, however. Mercy? She has no agenda. No motive. Only Eddie. Who, as much as I... think highly of him, isn't going to be much help.

And don't give me that look, Karen. I do NOT have a thing for Poser. You just never took the chance to really get to know him. He's annoying, yes. Talentless, yes. A good person?

Most definitely."

Karen snorted, and turned away, still boiling mad. Fatts looked up, quite surprised by the little speech Scott just gave, and he felt compelled to add his piece. But considering how much hurtin' he was experiencing, McGarron simply closed his eyes and leaned back, resting his head gently against the wall.

Lucinda sat down and begin to brainstorm for ideas. She had to think of a way to retaliate, and fast. Turmoil was an event watched by many people, it would be damaging to her and Karen's reputations if they didn't do something to AT THE VERY LEAST even up the scores.

However, the Lassie -- when agitated -- wasn't really the most patient of people. She sighed, and walked over to the door, looking to get out of the room and get some fresh air. There was just one tiny problem.

The door wouldn't swing open.

The girl from Manchester was confused, and tried again. No such luck.

On the other side of the door, unknown to Karen & Lucinda & McGarron, a huge steel cabinent had been somehow dumped there and was convienietly blocking the way out of the locker-room of the trio. How did it get there? Maybe, just maybe, the mini-forklift that Eddie Scott Poser currently had control of had something to do with it?

Oh, cheeky Mercy. So very cheeky Mercy.

A very pissed off Nicole Carson screamed from the entranceway.

“Cara Dyconin, I don’t care if there’s a fight scheduled or not, get your scrawny bitch ass out here right now!”

Cheers of approval rose from the crowd as Nicole stalked the entranceway. There was no reply from the speakers while Nicole crept back towards the Asylum, so furious that she didn’t want to waste the time to storm the ramp way and then take her down, instead she wanted to do it at first sight.

“Your a dark goddess aren’t you Cara? Aren’t you? Please tell me you’re not like Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny. I don’t want to be devastated like that ever again. Please, appear your bitch self here with some of your evil powers.”

No sign of Cara Dyconin.

”What’s that? You don’t have evil powers? Then I’m afraid there’s nothing protecting you from what I’m about to deal out. You’re a week late for it. I know, I promised you would see the evil side of me last week, but I was taking care of my mother. The one that was assaulted and then hooked up to a machine because of somebody....ahh, I can’t quite remember who it was...”

She twirled her hair around playfully. “Ah, yes...now I remember...IT WAS YOU! GET YOUR FUCKIN’ ASS OUT HERE...NOW!”

"Arcus harum acerbus caelestis fas tibi"

Hatred reversed the cheering. “We’re In This Together” by Nine Inch Nails signaled the entrance for Cara Dyconin. As she stepped out from the shadows there was a proverbial target on her back, as if the crowd were immediately held up a boo card.

Nicole fumed inside of the cage, scowling at her while rattling the cage with kicks. She screamed for Cara to come down, however Cara only held the microphone firm.

”Calm down...there’s no need to scream.”

Two figures loomed behind her. Servant A and Servant B, wielding two steel chairs, walked past Cara with a disturbing glare, heading straight on course to the Asylum.

”...Yet.”

Cara took on at a slow, watchful pace as the Servants bound into the cage. Servant B leapt inside and then swung the chair by his side, following Nicole’s every step with a sweep of the weapon.

As Nicole motioned for Cara to get into the cage, Servant B lunged towards her and lifted the chair.

She turned towards him a second to late...the chair cratered against her skull.

She staggered back from the blow...not off her feet, but dazed. Meanwhile, he stared at the life size imprint of Nicole Carson’s head on the chair, amazed that it hadn’t knocked her out cold from such a powerful swing.

He woke up with a fist to the face.

The crowd erupted with cheers...the fight had officially begun.

Another blurred fist slammed against him. Servant B whipped the chair into Nicole’s ribs, not breaking through her defense at all, instead he only fueled her rage. She repeatedly jabbed him to the face with maniac elbows, then spun and connected with a spin kick to B’s head. His world spun in circles and he fell to the floor.

Nicole hollered for him to stand back onto his feet. And while doing that, completely forgot about the other Servant conveniently standing behind her.

He raised the chair high.

SMACK!

It slapped against her back like fire against skin. She stumbled forward while her knees buckled from the agonizing sting. Servant B cracked it across the brunt of her exposed back and then branded her with the steel once again.

Her knees hit the floor...but he wasn’t done.

Servant B ruthlessly slammed the dented chair against her...again...and again...until he let it loose bent in half. The white of his eyes seemed consumed with fury, and every time the chair swooped down, somebody new cringed. Forgetting about the chair, he lashed Nicole with repeated rib shots.

The crowd grew impatient. They wanted Nicole to get out of the fetal position and fast. Servant B wound back to scruff her with another boot print, but she sucked in air and took the hit. His foot thudded against her ribs, allowing her to wrap her fingers around it for a death grip. She leapt onto her feet, still holding onto his foot.

Nicole rocketed into the air and tornado kicked off the wall, and as Servant B crashed toward the floor with a shattered jawbone, she spun her body in a circle along with his leg. He flipped onto his stomach...motionless.

Servant A was back and with another chair. Nicole turned away from the downed form of Servant B and sarcastically smiled at Servant A.

But he wasn’t amused, he went for a home run swing over his head...Nicole ducked underneath and stabbed him with a jagged elbow...he grunted and backed off, dropping the chair.

As he threw a right hook at her, she dove for the chair and at the same time mule kicked him off his feet. Nicole rolled into stance with the chair hovering above Servant A. He attempted to push himself off the ground, only to get steel to the side of the head.

Nicole tossed chair away from her apathetically.

As Servant A stirred from his deathbed, he was knocked right back with a knee strike from Nicole. Fresh blood gushed into his hands, and his eyes rolled underneath heavy lids.

“...Next.”

Carson’s head swerved towards Servant B struggling on one leg, stuttering as he came closer, his teeth grinding painfully while he did. The truth was...Servant B was hurting a lot right now.

But being hurt and giving up were two very different things for the Servants.

He blasted Nicole back with a surprising right hand, and then continued to throw desperate right hooks. She exchanged some of her own, shaking his vision from the intense strikes. Her rate of fire increased pace and Nicole was beginning to gain momentum, when Servant B unloaded with all of his weight and crushed her hopes with one monstrous fist.

The tide of the fight turned into the Servants hands. For a second, that is. Servant B, clutching onto his last chance for survival, attempted to lift Nicole for Eternal Dark.

The high impact powerbomb would black out Carson if successful, but as he brought her up to his level, she choked the air from his lungs with her legs. She sucked the life from him, her legs acting like the frame of a boa constrictor, wrapping around his soft neck and squeezing tight. He gasped and reached for anything to help him.

But what he found was nothing but thin air.

He tossed her towards the ground, but he was drained of all his strength, so Nicole took control of the momentum...flipping and bringing him closer to her...then performing a belly to belly suplex type move, using her legs to send him crashing with it, straight into the Asylum wall. His face bounced off of the edge, and he lied silent while the crowd turned chaotic.

CARSON!

Carson had just gotten onto her feet and brushed herself off when a stiff flying kick sent her into a broken heap on the floor.

Cara Dyconin grabbed a handful of Carson’s hair and dragged her onto her knees. She wasn’t pleased with having her Servants being taken out. She shook her head at Nicole, scowling.

“You had a chance to join me. Don’t bother trying now.” Cara muttered.

And then she slapped Nicole. Nicole turned back sternly to be smacked across the face again.

“So...I guess there is no inner demon inside of you. Your just a walking, talking, pussy.”

Nicole spit in her face. “If I was you...I wouldn’t push me.”

Disgusted, Cara wiped the spit away from her face, and then wickedly slapped Nicole, this time causing the people in the front row to turn away. A bright red mark in the shape of Cara’s hand glowed on her cheek. Cara dragged Nicole off his knees and onto her feet by locks of black hair, ripping pieces off as she slammed her knee deep into her stomach.

She locked Nicole between her arms, putting pressure against her temples, and then shoved her against the wall. Carson managed to fall onto the floor instead of the outside, but wasn’t able to save herself from being the victim of a lightning fast kick to the chin. Her head popped into the air as she stumbled onto tripping feet.

But she should’ve stayed down. Awe passed to person to person as Cara thunderstruck Nicole with another killer kick. When her leg went back into place, the other one struck and crippled the parts it connected with. Cara pierced Nicole’s shoulder and she was knocked onto one knee from the tremendous force, nursing her shoulder as she went down.

Cara broke towards Nicole and her leg sprung for her neck. But she dodged out of the way and got onto her feet swinging. Cara’s mad speed helped her get out of the way of a direct hit, allowing her to catch her hand in action, and lock in a reverse chicken wing submission.

Nicole’s visage contorted sickly, her arm being ripped in the opposite direction now. But as Cara began to tighten her hold and steal the life from her, Nicole focused and soon her face had turned to a calm, emotionless state.

The crowd didn’t know how to react to this. They had no idea that Nicole had studied chi energy and could numb pain.

Unfortunately for Cara Dyconin, neither did she.

Trash littered the Asylum as Cara strengthened the submission, yanking back and driven to snap her bone in pieces. A glass bottle brushed by her and shattered next to her feet, which danced around Nicole, attempting to keep her locked in place.

“RAGGGH!!”

Carson dug her fingers into her eyes while Cara tried to push away. But it was no use, Carson slammed the back of her head into her gruesomely, opening a wide cut in Cara’s forehead and knocking both senseless.

Both fell to the floor with their brains scrambled. Carson cradled the back of her head with both arms, rocking back and forth from the pain. And Cara did the same, except she tried to halt the blood from soaking the entirety of her face.

The referee began the count.

6.

Cara Dyconin was the first to make it. The crowd pleaded for Nicole to stand up, though there was only signs of twitching in her body.

Nicole stirred. Muscles thought to be unmovable at this state were given life.

9.

Missing the ten count by a second, Nicole’s knees lifted off of the floor.

Cara watched from a crimson haze, and knew that if she wanted to end this anytime soon, now was the time to end it.

Boos were ushered as she leapt off her feet.

For the first time in Asylum history, people took out their rosary and began to pray.

She propelled herself towards Carson for a reverse tornado kick....

NO~!

Nicole’s body stood like a brick wall and blocked the kick. After the unorthodox stance, she struck Cara with a 360 degree spin kick...exploding from a crouching position...and uppercutting her through the air.

People were on their feet...standing on chairs...trying to get the extra height to see if Cara Dyconin could stand after that one.

“I told you not to push me.” Nicole said grimly, spitting a mixture of blood and mucus onto the battle stained Asylum floor.

Though, those people who climbed onto their seats...wouldn’t get what they were looking for.

Because a man had jumped over the barrier and ran past security, bat in hand, he climbed inside of the cage. Dressed in a black trench coat and leather pants, and his hair dirty blond, was the only way to identify him.

He lunged with the bat...Nicole stepped out of the way and axe kicked.

No use.

CRACK!

The bat exploded into pieces as it connected with her head.

Nicole’s legs crashed from underneath her, and she went down with them. Massive boos overcame the arena, people rioted and tried to get past security. The man covered his face with the trench coat from the garbage, and headed towards an exit as fast as his legs could take him.

Meanwhile, Cara Dyconin had regained her senses from the Heaven’s Call, and dragged her broken body towards the downed Nicole Carson.

Carson had lifted herself up with held from the wall, but there was a gash pouring out blood from where the bat had cracked on her skull. Her fingers left go of the wall...if she could look, it wouldn’t matter, there would be too much blood in her way.

Nicole stumbled blindly into Cara Dyconin’s path.

BOOOOOO!

She slugged her over the cranium with both her fists, using two because there was barely enough energy left in her to knock Nicole over with one.

Nicole fell to her knees.

Numbing of Thy Soul.

Cara locked in the modified sleeper hold, wringing her neck with a last desperation maneuver. She held the hold firmly in place, her face turning a slight red from the amount of strength put into it. Nicole flailed wildly about, but she wouldn’t let her hand hit the floor.

Nicole’s face flushed at first, and then it turned a deathly pale. Cara leaned back for more leverage on the strangle hold. Nicole choked for any sign of oxygen that could enter her lungs, but none came.

Cara strained...teeth clinching, she violently yanked back.

Nicole could feel everything slipping away.

But she wouldn’t allow herself to submit.

Nicole stopped straining...her eyes flinched and she slumped over. Her eyes shut, opened one last time, and then were sealed tightly.

Nicole Carson had passed out.

Hatred fumed through the air as Cara Dyconin was handed the Women’s Title.

She had somehow come out with the win.

And she had somehow been the only survivor that night.

Somehow, she slayed a demon.

And as she stumbled up the ramp way, clutching the title close...

She knew that they hated her for it.

"All You Can Eat" by Fat Boys.

Fatts McGarron began marching down to the cage, NOT managing to fall flat on his face. Close behind, with contrasting looks on their faces, were Lucinda Scott and Karen Pembridge. Quite expectedly, jeers could be heard, although not as loud as what your Token Weeds & Freaks would get.

And yes, contrasting was mentioned -- Lucinda looked calm, Karen was pissed. Understandable, given the difference in their personalities. Even the fact that they were basically trapped in their locker-room, thanks to a steel cabinet, Lucinda Scott still kept her cool, and was even smiling, albeit thinly. But that wasn't the surprising bit.

No, what was surprising was that Fatts had a microphone in his hand, as the trio climbed into the cage, with some people wondering how they even got out of their locker-room.

And others wondering why Lucy & Karen were allowing Fatts to have a microphone in his hand, much less think of one.

"P-P-Poser! Mercy! W-We know that you two... uhm... suckers are back there! Plotting more stuff to do against us. Well, the... jig is up! That's right, the jig is up! Come out here, and face the terror of us three... uhm, people!

NOW!

Come out NOW!"

The crowd jeered, and Karen shook her head, before -- thankfully -- yanking the microphone out of McGarron's hands. Lucinda leaned against the side of the cage and folded her arms, wondering just what the girl from Manchester would have to say about the antics of Poser & Mercy.

Which were definitely planned down to the most minute detail. A trait of Mercy's craftsmanship. However, somebody strong and with a motive was needed for the execution. That's where the almighty King Of Poland came in. He was the muscle needed. The brawn, doing the brain's dirty work. And duh, Mercy was the brains behind the operation.

Nobody messes with her, even in the slightest, and gets away with it.

"Listen, Mercy. You're bloody irrational, but that doesn't matter. What does matter is that you're probably just upset that Lucinda and myself know your pathetic secrets. And we have no intentions of seeing your face, it was just a little something I thought I'd try.

And bloody hell, the rumours about you ARE true.

I've fought people tougher than you, Mercy. Heh, I can go as far as to say that Fatts here is MUCH tougher than you, dumb wench. So, if it's a fight you're looking for, we're here. Simply begging for the pain to be dished out. You can bring that twat, Poser, along if you wish. I've trounced him, and so has Fatts.

So it's basically two-on-one, Mercy. Nothing new for you, from what I've heard."

With that cheapshot, Karen threw the microphone down and ignored the jeers that were being hurled at her, before getting into a fighting stance. It was almost as if the Lassie knew that Mercy was sure to take offense to whatever had been said, and would come charging out. Fatts looked at Karen, and also got into a fighting stance of his own, however pathetic it looked.

Lucinda kept her eyes fixed on the entrance, as they gleamed with wonderment.

Then, "Bullets" by Creed.

Out came Mercy and Eddie Scott Poser, as expected. Mercy, being the quicker of the two, was the first to jump into the cage, and immediately had to duck a sidekick from Karen, before swiftly driving her fist into Karen's face with a ferocious jab. Karen was taken aback, but within a blink of an eye, she'd retaliated with a cross-hook, sparking off a slugfest between the two.

The crowd loved it.

What they loved even more was Eddie jumping onto the rail of the cage and connecting with an utterly wicked clothesline to Fatts McGarron. Lucinda cringed, and thinking of her own safety, retreated out of the cage, where she would be safe watching from the outside.

"THE LEPRECHAUN TOLD ME TO BURN THINGS!" Eddie screamed at the top of his lungs, as he drove his fists repeatedly into the face of McGarron, who found it entirely impossible to defend himself.

And as for Karen & Mercy? After Karen had stunned Mercy with a Windpipe Smash, several kicks were sent to various parts of the masked enigma's body. But an attempt at a snap roundhouse kick failed, as Mercy managed to catch it with her hands and knocked the Lassie down with a sidekick.

The crowd roared with gusto, enjoying this.

Karen recovered rather quickly, but became a victim of a roundhouse kick of Mercy's own. It didn't send Pembridge down, but it sure as hell dazed her. So, what did Mercy do? Spinning backfist? Yes, but again, all it did was send Karen staggering backwards, her mind not being able to muster up any defense at the moment.

Lucinda looked on, worried, as Fatts finally got Eddie off him with an uppercut.

Mercy went for another roundhouse kick, but Karen ducked it and locked in a waistlock as Mercy was in the midst of a 360 turn. The masked enigma struggled for a bit, contemplating a mule kick. That was thrown out of the window, seeing how Karen was a lady, so a simple reverse elbow sufficed. Pembridge's grip was relinquished, and Mercy quickly shuffled herself behind the Lassie.

Before letting fly with a high-angle german suplex.

With the added bonus of the Manchester girl's head crashing against the railing of the Asylum cage.

"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"

On the other side of the cage, Fatts was getting into his groove, getting a couple of punches in... but a short-arm clothesline was evaded, and the King of Poser came firing back with a clothesline-esque move of his own. It was really a superkick, but the name Clothesline From Hell, Michigan kinda suggested otherwise, eh?

But back to the main action, Mercy/Karen. If this was a real fight, Mercy would have won already, judging by the Lassie's current comatose state. But that didn't prevent Mercy from whipping out a knife and eyeing Pembridge's neck. She didn't get a chance to do this earlier in the evening, but now...

Now, it was there for the taking.

Suddenly, Karen's eyes fluttered to life, and as she did earlier, a rolling legsweep forced Mercy to fall to the ground, forcing the crowd to jeer in disdain. However, there was to be absolute silence to follow. Why, you ask?

Maybe because Karen Pembridge yanked Mercy's mask off her face?

...

You read correctly.

Fucking. Absolute. Silence.

Mercy's eyes widened in horror, as she quickly forced herself up and jumped out of the cage, running for her dear life. As for The British Lassie? She smiled. The job had been done, and she had won.

Mercy had been... exposed for who she really was.

It wasn't scheduled but in fairness it never was, Joe Campbell marched through the curtain with the usual scowl of defiance upon his face. The main event was just moments away as was quite possibly the biggest gamble he'd taken in his entire life, it appeared as though before proceedings got underway he had a couple of announcements to make.

Campbell snatched a microphone from the nearest hand to him and clambered up the steps and into the Asylum structure, prompting a loud reaction of support from the surrounding crowd.

"Shut the fuck up." Joe promptly barked "I don't have time to entertain you cunts right now... big important things happening in the next five minutes and besides, what I have to say is pretty interesting anyway so shh."

A quick sign of the respect for the man in the middle of the structure was displayed as those attending quietened down.

"Right." Joe continued "I was thinking about this match and a few things didn't sit too well with me... it is after all my gamble so I figured seeing as I'm putting so much at stake it's only fair that I determine and declare a couple of stipulations.

First I noticed that old Kellen Kinkade is pretty nifty with that grappling and takedown shite... being a wrestler and that, so in the interest of fairness...

...no submissions." Joe spoke out with a devious smile, a reaction that was shared by the crowd who roared with glee at an announcement that would surely cripple Kinkade's arsenal and indeed chances of winning the match.

"Second of all... Kinkade is a pussy so I'm guessing at some point he's going to try and go the cheapass way and trick The Freak into leaving the Asylum so again... in the interest of fairness...

...no ringouts." Joe added, another huge ovation from the crowd backing him up.

"Another thing that came across my mind when I was contemplating stuff earlier on was the potential for Kinkade turning up with the general attitude of grabbing the Immortal belt and getting the fuck out of dodge... so for the final time in the interest of fairness I made a little change here and there by assigning a special guest enforcer for the match...

...Dez Aragon, come on down."

Another huge round of cheers filled the arena as "Fiend" by Coal Chamber hit the speakers and Dez Aragon made his way down the aisle to officiate a match with odds that were becoming more and more stacked against Kellen Kinkade by the minute.

"And..." Joe interrupted as the crowd again went insane at the thought of a further hurdle for the challenger "I'll be sticking around... just in case there are any problems."

Campbell slowly backed away from the Asylum leaving just the officiator Dez Aragon within; the Asylum owner took a seat at ringside as the big match build up continued.

The bell chimed and "Replica" by Fear Factory screamed through the arena as The Freak emerged at the top of the aisle clutching in the grasp of each hand two items, which were the centre of it all.

Asylum title.

Immortal title.

One in each hand with only a single question in the air... would they still be his when the dust settled?

Freak made his way down the aisle to an unusually appreciative reaction, it wasn't cheering by any means but anything short of being pelted with the carcasses of dead animals was a vast improvement on the usual reactions he picked up. Nobody wanted to see the Asylum championship leave the Asylum, and he was the man who would ultimately decide whether or not it would stay.

As he entered the Asylum, he was greeter by Campbell who stood up from his ringside seat.

"Did you do it?" Joe questioned as the music continued to blast out.

"Swallowed by the earth, I'll be surprised to see him." The Freak replied.

A large firework explosion shocked the arena as "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden started to play... people looked around in confusion but as the smoke from the explosion slowly cleared one thing remained in its wake.

The shape of Kellen Kinkade bloodied and beaten clutching a microphone in his hand.

"Surprise." He snarled as a chorus of boos followed his voice "You should've thrown the dirt on me and made sure motherfucker, because I'm still here... been looking for you all week but at the end of the day I knew that this would be where I'd find you, so as I've been asking again and again and again and again AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN..."

The Jersey Devil paused for a moment to catch his breath.

"...give me my fucking belt back." He roared, dropping the microphone with a static scream before hobbling down the aisle. Kinkade was still wearing the clothes that he had on at the Show previous, since then he'd been battered and left for dead and the signs were showing... his body was stained with blood and dirt as were the pair of tattered jean shorts he was wearing, dried blood matted his hair and stuck to his face.

The Freak leant over the Asylum rim and handed the titles out to Campbell who clenched them tight to his chest.

Kinkade climbed slowly over the Asylum rim before surveying the situation before him... the crowd all around were riled up as he narrowed his eyes and extended his arm, pointing the finger first at the Freak.

"You first." He snorted before moving and pointing at Dez Aragon "Then you if I have to."

Kinkade stared through everyone before him and shot an icy glare at Campbell whilst pointing at him.

"And you last, when I take those titles from you."

And then from what seemed to be a cool and collected exterior burst chaos... Kinkade's face screwed up furiously and he rushed at The Freak, leaping at his face and bashing him with punch after punch as he tackled him down to the canvas.

The Freak quickly used a few sharp strikes to free himself from the attack... scrambling across the Asylum as Kinkade measured up. The crowd roared out trying to warn a recovering Freak of what was on the horizon, a Killing Spree spear that'd do him no favours.

Too late... Kinkade set off at run, lowering his head and looking for the deadly blow but on the subject of favours, The Freak was about to receive one. Kinkade suddenly slammed face first into the canvas courtesy of a not so discreet Dez Aragon trip.

Those attending roared with cheers at the actions of the match officiator who simply shrugged and smirked about his actions.

"You fu-" Kinkade began but did not finish as he got to his feet, falling victim to The Freak who was on The Jersey Devil like a rash as he tried to stand... grabbing him by the neck and doubling him over into several stiff knees to his already broken ribs.

In true Asylum fashion, blood was on the canvas just minutes into the bout as Kinkade coughed a mouthful of it out. The Freak however did not relent, quickly sending a boot into the midsection of Kinkade before double underhooking his legs.

Soulflayer time.

Or so the crowd thought... The Freak hoisted up Kinkade into a vertical position and whilst dropping him on his head may have been a very abrupt way of bringing the match to a close he instead took the option to torture his foe... throwing him out forwards...

...rib first over the Asylum rim.

"OHHHHHHHHHH!" The crowd exclaimed before a "Holy Shit!" chant quickly filled the arena... Kinkade lay draped across the rim of the Asylum with which he'd connected rib first, injured rib first.

The Freak raised an arm triumphantly before a quick upward boot into the face sent the Immortal champion to the arena floor with a sick thud.

"Not yet." The Freak said to Dez as he passed him... the officiator had started a count but quickly nodded and smirked whilst bringing it to a quick halt.

Over the Asylum rim and to the outside The Freak stalked Kinkade as he crawled slowly but surely across the arena floor trying to recover from the heavy double blow, he didn't get much time to do so as Freak dragged him up by the hair and set him for what would be a rather nasty suplex on the concrete.

Once again... early presumptions had proved less than accurate.

Freak hoisted Kinkade up into a vertical position, holding him there while the blood rushed to his head before bringing him down forwards with another sick slam... dropping him rib first over the steel guard rail at ringside.

"OHHHHHHHHHHOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!!" The crowd roared again but the man feeding their bloody appetite was far from finished, he kept the facelock on Kinkade and grasped ahold of his jean shorts to hoist him back into the air vertically once more, bringing him down across the steel rail again.

The Freak looked into the crowd and shook his head defiantly because he still wasn't finished.

He lifted up Kinkade once again as the crowd continued to bay for blood... bringing him down a third time across the guardrail to the delight of those watching up close. Kinkade wasn't showing any signs of life but that was perhaps a blessing in disguise. The Freak's tremendous power shining through as he hoisted up Kinkade a fourth and final time before finally suplexing him backwards.

Onto the ringsteps.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"

Kinkade was out of it, lying across the steps in a mangled wreck with his ribs black to hideous blue with bruising. The Freak sat on the arena floor for a moment contemplating his next move as Dez Aragon arrived on the scene.

"Count?" Dez enquired.

"In good time." The Freak replied as he got to his feet.

He'd damaged Kinkade but wouldn't be content until he'd destroyed him... only then would a knockout victory be sufficient in his own eyes. Slowly but surely he wrenched away at the guardrail before much to the delight of the crowd pulling away one of the interlocking sections.

Evidently there were methods to the mayhem as Freak placed the rail in a vertically leant position against the Asylum, picking up the bloody and comatose Kinkade to lay him against it. A couple of steps back later it became quickly apparent that The Freak was going to take a run up and crush the body of The Jersey Devil like a grapefruit.

Rushing forth The Freak could never have expected Kinkade to recover... not only enough to get up from the rail and out of harms way but to lift The Freak up through the motions of a back body drop that was anything but ordinary. Kinkade kept a grip on The Freak's legs and the end result was the challenger for the Immortal title nose-diving almost head first into the propped guardrail with a sick clatter.

As blood gushed from the forehead of The Freak, Kellen Kinkade recovered with time that he'd bought in the most hardcore of manors. Dez Aragon prepared to make a double count but a vast amount of blatant coughing from an animated ringside Campbell quickly changed his mind.

Slowly but surely the wrestler and the fighter began to stir... both men staggering up to their feet at a similar pace but it was the wrestler who reacted in the quickest and most deadly manor. A surprise considering the massive amount of punishment he'd already taken.

As Freak staggered up partially blinded by his own blood, Kinkade lifted up the guard rail and slowly pushed it over in Freak's direction... he instinctively put out his hands and caught it before it hit him in the face but that was an issue Kinkade had bargained on as he quickly vaulted onto the Asylum canvas and threw his whole bodyweight into the rail... crushing The Freak beneath it.

"Holy Shit! Holy Shit!" Echoed through the stands once more but with far less enthusiasm... the Asylum hero for the day had been crushed beneath a guardrail and the 275lb Kinkade on top of it.

Kinkade quickly staggered up to his feet and was surprisingly swift in removing the rail from the downed... a seemingly helpful move until the full extent of his motives panned out. He too the rail and placed it carefully to form what could almost be described as a bridge between the Asylum and the guardrails surrounding it.

Picking The Freak up by the scruff of the neck Kinkade lead him up the ringsteps and dumped him back over the Asylum rim to the inside, clambering in after him. As The Freak tried to get to a vertical base he found himself locked in a front face lock that signalled out Kinkade's intents.

A snap suplex back over the Asylum rim onto the guardrail outside.

Kinkade hoisted Freak up partially into the air but his ribs didn't hold out... neither did his nether regions as the long arm or leg in this case off the law, kicked him below the belt.

A supposedly neutral Dez Aragon blasted Kinkade low, giving The Freak the opportunity to double him over and lift him into the air bringing him down with a powerbomb.

To the outside.

Onto the guardrail.

That gave way.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!" chants broke out through the arena.

As The Freak looked down and surveyed the damage of Kinkade's body folded up in the belt up guardrail a "Lets go guardrail!" chant also broke out much to the amusement of many... not to that of Kinkade however as he lay completely still in the wreckage.

Dez Aragon raised an impressed eyebrow before looking to the Freak who'd fallen back into a sitting position to ask him "Now?"

"Now." The Freak replied as he spat a mouthful of blood that'd collected in his mouth across the canvas.

And so the count began.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

"STOP!" Joe Campbell's voice cried out, as Kinkade remained amongst the wreckage clearly unable to make the ten count "Don't just end his fucking title run, end his fucking career!"

Freak slowly rose up to his feet just in time to catch a tossed steel chair that Campbell had been sitting on... in the backdrop Kinkade could be seen slowly dragging himself up to a vertical base using the Asylum mesh as a support.

Somehow he managed to drag himself back into the Asylum that delighted the surrounding fans because it prompted The Freak to slowly draw back the chair and measure a blow to the Immortal champions head. Seconds later his desire to do so grew even further as the barely conscious Kinkade used what effort he had left in him to make an 'up yours' arm gesture.

Furiously The Freak swung forth the chair but it was an act that Kinkade had been counting on... he swiftly ducked the blow and sent a wicked kick into Freak's crotch as he turned, following it up with a double footed dropkick to the chair that smashed into Freak's already bloodied head as result.

Both men were down but Kinkade was the first to show signs of life... signs, which were brought to an abrupt halt as the ever-neutral enforcer Dez Aragon sent a blatant kick into Kinkade's broken ribs.

The Freak slowly staggered up to his feet and started to bring back the chair again but once more... he was caught by an explosion from nowhere as Kinkade rushed up to his feet from a crouching position and caught Freak around the waist... picking him into the air and running for several feet before dumping himself and the man in his grasp over the Asylum rim!

This time it was the announce table exploding under the weight of both men as the crowd roared out once again out of admiration for an amazing Killing Spree spear at the hands of Kinkade.

Joe Campbell shook his head with dismay as both men slowly but surely pulled themselves from the shattered remains of the announcer’s table. It was again Kinkade who best used the surroundings to his advantage, grabbing French commentator Jean Paul Peters and tossing him into The Freak as he tried to struggle up to his feet.

As the commentator and The Freak both went to ground... Kinkade wrenched out a monitor by the plug chord and started to swing it around his head with no regard for anyone in the vicinity. Specifically not The Freak as Kinkade swung down the monitor across his spine as he tried to stand.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!" Filled the ringside as Kinkade swung the monitor around once again and snapped it down hard on The Freak who lay completely still on the arena floor... as he did so Joe Campbell shot a look at Dez Aragon, which prompted him to make his way over to the Asylum rim where he could clamber out.

Kinkade saw it coming and took vengeance upon the man who'd plagued him throughout the match, swinging the monitor upwards and cracking him in the head with it... shattering the screen in the process.

At ringside Joe Campbell looked on mouth agape as his plans fell apart before his very eyes. The Freak was bloodied, lacerated and crawling across the arena floor and Dez Aragon was writhing in agony on the canvas with blood coming from his mouth as result of the monitor blow.

Kinkade in the meantime was measuring up The Freak for a Killing Spree that had all the makings of a match winner, he took a few steps back as Freak slowly got up to his feet with blood pouring from the deep monitor inflicted wounds in his back. He hadn't bargained on The Freak giving him a taste of his own medicine however... just as he'd used the surrounding environment to his advantages so did Brian Fenn-Grail. Unlatching the steel rimmed mesh Asylum door he swung it open just as Kinkade rushed him... catching The Jersey Devil square in the face and almost beheading him. Kinkade's nose burst upon impact and while it probably wasn't broken it was definitely bloodied, he fell flat out then started to get back up only to be caught by a second door shot... this time to the back of the skull as he tried to get away.

Down and out, Kinkade found himself picked up by the scruff of the neck and dumped back onto the Asylum through the doorway by The Freak. Across the Asylum Dez Aragon had got to his knees to find Joe Campbell leaning over the Asylum rim and into his face, handing him an object.

"Go for his kneecaps, the cunt will never walk again let alone stand up to win this match." Joe said with a sick smile as Dez got to his feet and held out an object that had the crowd silenced with shock.

A handgun.

"Pick him up." Dez asked The Freak as he got into the Asylum and the challenger for the Immortal gold had no qualms... lifting up Kinkade who through the blood streaming down his face saw the gun pointing at his leg.

"You motherfuckers, you can't do this!" He roared kicking furiously and causing all kinds of problems... people watched with baited breath as Dez placed the barrel of the pistol across his forearm for a steadier aim and narrowed his eyes. Kinkade continued to kick and thrash around violently making the shot more difficult.

"DO IT!" Joe screamed from the outside one final time before...

Silence filled the arena as Dez fired off a round... a thin trail of blood sprayed across the canvas in a straight line as both Kinkade and The Freak fell backwards to the canvas.

Both men stirred slowly as Kinkade spoke something to Aragon through clenched teeth.

"Richard Patrick said it best." He sneered at Dez as he crawled across the canvas and through the bloody trail "Hey man... NICE SHOT!"

That's when the whole picture changed, Kinkade sprung to his feet like a man who definitely hadn't been shot through the kneecap. Rushing forth he caught Dez Aragon and blasted him in the ribs with a Killing Spree spear, knocking him to the canvas and knocking the gun out of his hand.

"NO!" Campbell screamed "NO NO NO NO NO!"

As Kinkade got to his feet it became very evident that the blood trail he'd crawled through hadn't been his own... The Freak lay on the canvas clutching his leg, a leg that'd taken a flesh wound to the side... it wasn't serious but the shot had definitely been enough to take down and keep down a normal man.

Joe sprung to his feet and tried to reach over the Asylum rim to snatch the gun that Aragon had dropped but before he could get to it, it was lifted from the canvas and pointed straight at his face.

"Bang." Kinkade said with a sinister smile "I don't think I'll be needing this."

He slid out the clip and casually flicked all of the remaining bullets out of it and down onto the canvas... before hurling the empty clip out into the crowd and tossing the useless gun up the aisleway.

In the backdrop however... The Freak was living up to his label of being anything but a normal man. Despite carrying a wound to the leg that was rapidly leaking vital fluids he somehow struggled up to his feet as Kinkade turned to him and shook his head.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Snatching up a chair Kinkade stepped forward and under a vast amount of booing and jeering from the crowd took a swing.

A hard impact took The Freak back down to the canvas in agony; Kinkade drew the chair back and made sure.

Three sick blows to the leg ensured that The Freak wasn't going to be standing up anytime soon... EMT's were making their way down to the Asylum as he tossed the battered chair down to the arena floor and staggered out of the Asylum... confronting Joe Campbell who stood between him and the two title belts resting on a ringside table.

"One man down and another man shot, if I were you I'd move the fuck out of my way." Kinkade snarled, bloodied and beaten but still with work to do.

To the despair of those in attendance Joe Campbell lowered his head and stepped aside allowing Kellen Kinkade to brush past him and snatch up the Asylum and Immortal championship belts.

They were his now.

When Eli Flair took the belt just a few months previous Joe Campbell always knew that sooner or later he'd get it back, but he and his promotion had been chasing the Immortal title for eight months and still hadn't brought it home.

He knew deep inside that he might never see the Asylum championship again.

And deep inside... so did Kellen Kinkade as he backed up the aisle with both titles held high in the air.

Dez Aragon staggered to his feet in the Asylum and exchanged a look with Campbell that suggested conflict was on the horizon.

As for The Freak... he lay bleeding on the canvas in the knowledge that he could've buried the entire outcome six feet under just days ago.

If you don't bury the past...

...the past might just bury you.