The Asylum
That's it. That's all we're going to tell you. Unfortunately, we couldn't give you any further details on the whereabouts for this setting. The name of this high state mental facility would forever avoid satiating your curiosity, both now and forever throughout the future. Needless to say, it looked exactly as you might expect a mental facility to look; clean, white walls and tiled floor, almost to the point of vulgarity. The constant scent of bleach and cleaners burned the nose for the workers and rare visitors, but those that were held within? The patients -- oh, excuse me; guests? They were quite used to the smells to the point that they could no longer smell it, or anything for that matter. Some of the more, interesting, of cases might even hunger to once again know the scent. A little bit of remembrance, if you would be so kind?
A handful of guests made use of the recreation area, under constant supervision of the burly security guards as well as the doctors, looking out for any signs of misbehavior, or even the opposite. Each and every "guest" clad in the same, dull gray outfit of short sleeve top and pajama pant bottom. A few sat at a table, quietly just observing. Others were seated on the black, leather sofa against the bare, brick walls, their eyes glazed over and staring ahead at the television screen just opposite them. And two familiar faces, that of the SCW's newest addition to the women's tag team roster; Iron Maiden and Twisted Sister, sat at a small table with a deck of cards between them.
Twisted Sister looked up from the cards with a maniacal look in her eyes, her smile bright and chilly.
Twisted Sister: "Your turn! Cut!"
And her "buddy" and tag team partner, Iron Maiden, brought up a smuggled meat cleaver from under the table and brought it crashing down on the deck, literally cutting the stack in half! The two unhinged women shrieked in laughter as security suddenly was all over them, grabbing at their hands to pry the weapon from their grasp and return them to their cells...
But it wasn't those two nutcases we were here to visit. Outside of the recreation area and three floors up, the good Doctor Kraven Moorehead walked down along the halls, hands clasped behind his back with an air of nonchalance. At his side, a colleague and perhaps his only friend and equal in his eyes, Doctor Samuel Valentine. You remember him, right? Guy made an appearance or two in individual Twisted Sister roleplays? Hm? No?
Meh. Not important.
The two men walked down along the hall in the upper region of this hospice, passing by the random worker, nurse, fellow doctors and maintenance who mopped the floor. While Doctor Kraven Moorehead looked quite casual, Doctor Samuel Valentine appeared concerned.
Doctor Samuel Valentine: "Are you sure this is wise, Doctor? People are starting to talk."
Doctor Kraven Moorehead: "Oh? How so?"
Doctor Samuel Valentine: "Well it was one thing when you had your first patient released into your care to take part in that full contact sport of wrestling. Then you brought her back after she got suspended indefinitely. Now, you said this owner of this wrestling promotion contacted you about bringing her back, and with her friend?"
Doctor Kraven Moorehead: "That he did. For all the havoc she wreaked, my patient was apparently something akin to a money maker. people these days enjoy chaos when watching extreme sports. Her frequent use of weapons and blood lettings apparently was a ratings boost for them. And now they were looking for new stars..."
Doctor Samuel Valentine: "So you thought to bring her and her friend in as filler for this so-called revitalized tag team division. Did you warn them that her friend is an even bigger handful?"
Doctor Kraven Moorehead nodded as the pair turned a corner to enter a hallway filled with closed doors, each with a small window slide at eye level.
Doctor Kraven Moorehead: "I did. That intrigued him, even more."
Doctor Samuel Valentine shook his head and exhaled.
Doctor Samuel Valentine: "But this? Why further compound the risks by bringing 'him' into this? The man may not be as outwardly violent as the two women under your care, but many of our colleagues think that just makes him more dangerous. A thinking psychotic, if you will. Just the way he looks at you gives you a chill."
Doctor Kraven Moorehead: "Exactly."
The good-doctor smiled.
Doctor Kraven Moorehead: "Bringing him into the folds of this profession will be fascinating. Grown men twice his size who claim to know no fear?"
The two doctors arrived at a lone door in particular, the very last one in the hall. With a rap of his knuckles on the door, Doctor Kraven Moorehead reached up and slid the panel, only to find a part of a face filling the occupied space; two amber colored eyes filled with malice, and indeed, intelligence.
The eyes shifted from left to right, taking in both doctors and then narrowed. The man behind the door giggled.
Athrax: "Is it time to come out to play?"
Doctor Kraven Moorehead's Expert Diagnosis: "Indeed it is time to come out and play. I have been interested very much so in seeing the end result of this first experiment of my patient against this rather large individual known as Josh Woodrum. I admit that I know very little about Mister Woodrum, aside from a few past experiences of note that I managed to unearth. One match in SCW, before he packed his bags and left, and I must admit that I was less than surprised when I did further research to watch this lone match."
"I was less than impressed. So I dug even further and wonder to wonders; the man was an even bigger success in times past in a separate wrestling promotion, having won a multitude of championship titles to his credit. To be fair, his opposition was perhaps equal to his own talents, but that diagnosis is based on pure hypothesis. No facts. I simply could not understand how Mister Woodrum managed to excel to such a degree elsewhere, only to burn out so quickly and conclusively in SCW. Perhaps the competition is by far more superior, or perhaps his time had simply come to hang up his boots."
"So why then, did you opt to return to the six-sided ring, Mister Woodrum? Why did you decide to put yourself and that vaunted reputation you hold to even further degradation against my client, a man who is given a great size disadvantage against you, but never the less, is reckless enough to cut your size and strength down to a fraction of what it is now?"
"Indulge me, if you will. Have you a passion for experiencing pain? Do you enjoy the thrill of facing something dark and sinister, for the sole purpose of rising above it? Pain is an incredible tool fr motivation, Mister Woodrum, as is fear. It is what is more commonly known as the 'fight or flight' experience, and my good man? Of you were smart, you would do the former."
Las Vegas
before the start of the tour of New Zealand...
Hot Stuff Mark Ward: "So, this is him?"
In the SCW offices, "Hot Stuff" Mark ward stares ahead at the one of two bodies seated opposite of him in the office shared with Christian Underwood. Christian, however, was not present. For some reason that Mister Ward left unexplained (for the time being), he arranged this meeting at a time when Christian would be specifically out of the office.
Doctor Kraven Moorehead turned his head to look at the man beside him, and he appeared quite different than in promotional shots used in weeks past to hype his debut. The garish black and white face paint was not applied, and he wore simple but comfprtable clothes. His dirty blonde hair was left uncombed and dangling over his facde, which would be thought of as quite handsome if the look of madness in his eyes did not overshadow his handsome apperance. His amber eyes looked only at the man opposite him, Mark Ward himself, and not at his doctor/manager.
Doctor Kraven Moorehead: "It is, sir. I'd prefer his real name not be indulged, as I'm sure you're used to by now."
Mark Ward nodded, knowing this doctor preferred the confidentiality of his patients real names. At least until it was time to pay their salaries, that is.
Doctor Kraven Moorehead: "For now, I imagine it would be fine to simply refer to him by his stage name that he was given upon his signing; Anthrax."
Hot Stuff Mark Ward: "Good enough. Anthrax?"
And let it not be said that Hot Stuff Mark Ward was not a brave man, as he extended his hand towards the maniac opposite him. Anthrax looked at his offered hand with wide eyes, and he broke into a wide smile and grasped it, pumping his hand enthusiastically.
Anthrax: "So I get to play now? All by my lonesome?"
Doctor Kraven Moorehead: "No, it's as I told you my boy. You won't be playing by yourself any longer."
Uncertain if he understood what this was all about, Hot Stuff Mark Ward thought best to intercept the conversation and add his two cents.
Hot Stuff Mark Ward: "That's right. You'll be in the ring with a playmate. Another man, an opponent."
Anthrax nodded in understanding.
Anthrax: "Ahhh! Well that just makes playtime more fun, doesn't it?"
Doctor Kraven Moorehead: "Indeed it does, my boy."
Anthrax then turned and leaned over the desk and motioned for the boss to lean in closer. Figuring he could play along, Mark leaned in and Anthrax offered in a hushed whisper...
Anthrax: "I've been told I play kind of rough."
Hot Stuff Mark Ward: "That's okay, I think we can over look that. if you do me one little favor."
Anthrax: "What's that?"
Hot Stuff Mark Ward: "Christian will be back this afternoon. Come back later in your face paint and look in at him through the window?"
Hot Stuff Mark Ward nonchalantly pointed up to the office window behind him. Anthrax just -- smiled.
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