FWA 'Carnal Contendership 2023' || Promo Thread.

[SupineSnake]

cc secret entrant #3: chubby carlos (aon)

"YOU GOT MAIL!"
This was a sound that meant much, much more, perhaps ten years ago. Now e-mails were filled with spam, junk, trash, garbage, and every bit of filth that you didn't want to waste any bit of your time reading. On a normal day, you would have immediately ignored this ever-so-annoying notification that had blared through your awkwardly loud laptop speakers. Tonight was different, though. It was a Sunday night – what most would consider a day of rest. The common FWA diehard could probably be found on their laptop right now, viewing classic FWA matches and botches on FWA's official Youtube channel: FWAwrestling. However, even the videos can get old after a while. So you decided to humour the robotic voice that had previously startled you moments ago. Most likely, you'd proceed to enter your personal information, allowing you to access all walks of life at the touch of a cursor. However, you would usually overlook that power and instantly look at the number in the parentheses of your Inbox – 4,873..not too bad, you thought to yourself. So you'd go on and click the Inbox simply to see the most recently received e-mail. Chubby-Online.com? You remembered you had subscribed to this site like-ten years ago, but with the inactive status of the website, you had figured it was simply as dead as a doornail. Being a faithful member of the wrestling fandom, you know the carnal contendership is coming. So you decided to humour that creepy male voice even more as you opened up the e-mail and clicked the URL in the first line of text without even giving it a second's worth of thought. You had already allowed all content from this website, so instantly, a new tab in your browser opened up the home page of Chubby Carlos only and official fansite: Chubby-Online.com! As the website began to load in its entirety, displaying a nice cool metal-coloured backdrop, Oh, there seems to be a series of videos—almost a video diary. You made sure that you made yourself comfy as a video seems to be buffed in the centre of the screen before, after a moment,


- Video #1
- Timestamp 12:00 am (22 hours until show time…)

The first video to hit the site goes up in the early hours of the morning before most people are even awake. It begins in a hotel room, clearly being filmed on a digital hand camera rather than any of FWA's usual top-notch media equipment. After a little bit of a shaky start, the camera is positioned on the room's desk table, and the man responsible for the video steps back into the shot. Chubby Carlos, he dressed comfortably and casually in a hoody; it looks like he might have only arrived at the hotel not too long ago or perhaps even just stepped off the plane into the city; he smirks at the camera as he situates themselves directly in the frame, as he sits down on the bed. A small digital alarm clock beside the bed displays the time - 12:00 midnight - He clears his throat and leans forward with a smirk on his face.


"Well.....well...well..2012 vomited, and look who came out..."


Chubby smirks at the snide comment, or maybe he just adores the sounds of his own voice; in any case, now that he's got that out of the way, it was time to get to business...


.... And you're lucky enough to be watching me at a very special time. You see, this is now officially….


Chubby clicks his fingers at the clock before he reaches over and checks the clock for confirmation.

The 24th of April, 2023...And that's a date that will be remembered forever in FWA history. It's the date of the fourteenth Carnel Contendership pay-per-view... but above and beyond that? It's the date that Chubby Carlos makes history. Tonight is the night; I cave my name in the history books; the night is the night I pull off the heist of the century and do something that NO. ONE. No one has ever done this before; for the FIRST time, Chubby Carlos walks into an FWA ring, into the carnal contenders, and Chubby Carlos is going to walk out as Carnel Contendership winner and go to the Main Event of the granddaddy of 'em all! Now, just let that sink in. Really, Really, think about that for a moment because that deserves your attention. Because that's monumental! That's historical! If I pull this off -and I will- I might as well write my Hall of Fame Speech now. Sure, wrestlers have come and gone; some have been successful, some not so much, but when people look back at the history of our business, they'll see it as a bonafide undisputed fact of life that there has never been nor ever will be a big match wrestler like Chubby Carlos. No one has stolen the show more than Chubby Carlos and no one can get on the good foot and do bad, bad things when the lights are on brightest like Chubby Carlos...Tonight is the night when I become immortal.


Chubby Carlos tilts his head back a little, imagining his words coming to life tonight.


This has been a long time coming; trust me on that. And I thought that as important a date as this will be, it deserves to be commemorated correctly. After all, just think about the other big milestone events in people's lives. I'm talking about things like graduations... marriages... childbirth... all of that stuff...


He waves his hand rather dismissively, like even the range of life-changing moments he's just mentioned can't really hold a candle to what they're about to experience


People record those kinds of moments so that they can remember them forever. Well, so they can remember them and then bore their friends and family to tears every time they decide to throw a home movie night. But the principle is solid. Important events need to be remembered. And winning the Carnel Contendership? Being recognized as the best of all time? Dude, I can't honestly think of anything that's more important to me. So that's why I'm planning to put together a video blog throughout this special day, so I don't miss a single second of probably the most important date of my career!: In thirty years, when I'm old and grey, I can boot this recording up, kick back and think, "Man, I was awesome."


He stands smirking with all of his usual trademark confidence. But keeping his focus on the camera as he speaks in the kind of self-assured tones that anyone familiar with Chuby Carlos and his notoriously high opinion of himself on display


So, the question on everyone's lips is why: Why do this? Why take such a risk? Why dare thread where I've never gone before? After all, I ain't got nothing to prove. I'm running a whole damn company; where would I even find the time to do this?


Chubby chuckles momentarily and shakes his head as if the answer is obvious.

I'll be upfront; I don't get a good explanation. I don't have an FWA contract; This isn't some kind of big comeback story; I'm happy where I am in life, working with my company, bringing Lucha to the masses; no one from FWA management has ever contacted me about going full time. If I lose, nothing really changes. I go back to Art of Lucha wrestling, and we all go our merry ways. My legacy is secure. I don't have to prove to anyone who Chubby Carlos is, and that's why I'm doing this because I ain't got nothing to lose and EVERYTHING to gain. That's just how it goes. If I lose? Hey, no big deal- I'm still one of the greatest of all time; I'm still Chubby Carlos, ain't no skin off my nose. But if I win?

Chubby looks up at the camera as he sucks in air through his teeth.

"It's not just a win; it's HISTORY. It's true immortality. It's earth-shattering. It will change the World...and hey, how could I possibly resist? Hey dude. That's just the curse we all have to deal with. When wrestlers get out of the game, they're never truly out of the game. They all believe they can pull off THAT one big moment, THE heist of the century. A moment that would outlive ourselves, but most of them can't pull it off...but me? Dude, I was BORN to shock the World. It'll be a different story if I'd changed, or wasn't I as sharp as I once was, but dude? Nothing has changed. I'm still Chubby Carlos; I'm still kicking ass; I'm still the hardest-working dude in all of pro wrestling, and ain't no one can outperform Chubby Carlos. Tonight has been a long time coming for me, and that's not just because of AOL. No... it was a long time coming before I even signed my name to a CWA contract; I don't think it's much of a secret that I've been a big-time wrestling fan ever since I was a kid. But I'm not going to waste time sitting here, telling the same tired old story of how I always dreamed about becoming a wrestler someday... or how I've been dreaming about dominating this industry since I was five years old. So, instead, I think I'll spare everyone the heart-warming history lesson and concentrate on the important facts that separate me and my dreams from every other wannabe, like Everyone in the Carnal Contendership with a sob story and an old picture of themselves holding a tacky replica belt when they were a child.


Chubby leans closer to the camera. His smirk is still there, but his eyes have a slightly more intense look as he speaks.


The important difference that sets me apart is that I've never just dreamed a dream and hoped that maybe it would actually happen someday. No... I went out of my way to MAKE IT HAPPEN! I knew I wanted to be the World's best. I won every single title and achieved everything we could in this business, so I dedicated myself to being the best at what I do. Wrestling in gyms. Mexico...Japan... breaking records... being CHAMPION! And all to make it to this moment, this date... when the FWA will put me on the same level as CWA and put me and where I will be acknowledged as the GREATEST WRESTLER IN THE WORLD

His smile gets even bigger, turning into an excited grin as the thrill of being on the cusp of achieving all his dreams becomes too much even to try to hide.

That's what tonight means to me. That's the goal I've been working toward for my entire life. And I will achieve that goal, because that's just what I do.

He let those words sink in momentarily, wanting to ensure his message was perfectly clear. He certainly looks like he means every single word that he says, and there is still more that he intends to share with these video blog viewers.

As I said, proving that I'm the best is just what I do, And while I'm sure there are probably a lot of other dudes in this match that feel the exact same way, can any of them really say that they've reached for it in the same way that I have? Can anyone in the carnal contendership honestly claim they've done what I've done? Set the standard? Change the game like Chubby Carlos? Naa man. I've already achieved my dreams; how many dudes can say the same thing? I'm just here to take it to the next level. Oh, I've heard plenty of dudes on the roster come out and share their emotional baggage, crying about how they wanted to be a champion ... but...like...with all due respect, who cares? Honestly? It's all fine and dandy to want to be a "World Champion wrestler" or wins titles when you're a kid, but it's just something that children might say they want to be when they're older, like an "astronaut" or a "lion tamer". Just a childish fantasy that's never really going to happen after they grow up... wise up... and settle into some boring nine-to-five routine. Even the other FWA stars... how many of them can really say that being a wrestler was all they ever wanted to be? How many of them just fell into this after whatever other career they had planned didn't pan out?

He shakes his head with appalled at the camera.


I kick so much ass because, for me, it was never a backup plan or a last resort. It was never just a childish fantasy. It was my life! And yes, sure... there were a lot of dudes that didn't really 'get it'. You have no idea how many times I've been asked what I do for a living and then seen that patronizing look on someone's face when I tell them I'm a professional wrestler. Especially coming from someone looking like I do... Dudes that don't "Get it" see it as a joke. Because there's a lack of respect for this business, people don't 'get it'; they see pro-wrestling as some kind of weird cross-between a stunt show and bad theatre without appreciating for a second the hard work and dedication that we've put into this for years! They don't really understand the level of athleticism, the skills, and the techniques we've needed to perfect to get where we are today. No... they still see it as a glorified circus, where the FWA superstars are just a step above clowns that come out every night in our brightly-coloured outfits to put a smile on the face of all the little kids... And hey, that's cool. I ain't hating; I'm just spittin' facts. But I've always believed pro wrestling could me more. It can change lives. That's why I've fought my entire career, that's why I do what I do, that's why I set up Art of Lucha Wrestling, and THAT'S why I'm in the Carnel Contendership because I wanna change hearts and minds. It's time for professional wrestling to get the respect that it deserves...

He kept looking into the camera; the confidence was clearly visible in his eyes. Chubby smirks and reaches for his digital camera, adjusting it slightly as he prepares to sign off on this first video in his series.


Alright, I think that's enough for now. I got a big day ahead, the biggest in FWA history, as a matter of fact, so I have more for you after I've had a good night's sleep.


He laughs as he starts to switch off the camera.


Believe me; I got PLENTY to say... so you'll want to make sure you tune in. Later...

...and off goes the camera, which ends the video. And the viewers watching this first instalment quickly clicked on the next link, bringing up the second video in this series...


-
Video #2
- Timestamp 21:00 (1 hour until match time...)

The final video begins with a backstage shot in the arena, showing several black crates for transporting FWA production equipment on the road. The camera seems to have been set up on one of these boxes, giving it a clear shot of a corridor with several "FWA" and "Carnal Contendership" banners hanging from the walls. Chubby doesn't take long to step onto the scene after setting the camera. He is now dressed for action in his usual wrestling gear of green and black polka dots and wearing a matching Art of Lucha shirt, and clutching what appears to be embracing a ball in his hand; he quickly sets the ball down on a production crate taking care while he flashes a grin with obvious excitement at the camera.

Here we are, in the heart of music city .. a little later than I had planned to do this, but the traffic in Nashville is no joke. And the lady in the car ahead of mine was having a long-term committed relationship with second gear, which really slowed me down...but that's ok because this is an important arena, obviously. After all, in just a few hours, it will become the place where Chubby Carlos wins the Carnel ContendershipI'm pretty sure that the Nashville tourist board will be sending me 'thank you' cards for the rest of my life because I'm about to make this arena a must-see destination for all wrestling fans around the World. And to give this arena its moment in history, I will always be remembered. I have to go through 29 dudes?

He laughs to himself.

Welp, I'm ready; in case you didn't notice, I already have my numbers…

Chubby holds up his ball between his fingers as if on cue, displaying it for the camera.

"...And for me? These numbers are far more important than anyone else in this match because what time I come out is going to be the key to my win tonight. In a perfect world, I'll come out dead last, y'know, getting that massive pop, but what if I'm number one and have to go through the entire field?

Chubby looks down at his own ball as if considering his own words before closing his hands with a shrug.

Guess you'll just have to find out, won't you? Oh, what? Do you think I'll just up and show you where and when I'm coming out? Yeah, as if I'll give away the element of surprise. I don't know who's watching. Cyrus is OBSESSED with me; he's probably watching right now.

Chubby offers a cheery wave to the camera mouthing the words "Hey, Cy."

Besides, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter all that much; it's just a case of how easy lady luck made it for me…hey... She has a thing for me, but that's beside the point. It doesn't matter what number I drew because no matter what, I don't plan on being eliminated. That's the thing about talent like me. You can repress it as much as you want, but no matter what you do, the cream always rises to the top and if you want proof of that? Just watch what I do tonight.

Chubby shrugs just a little casually.

"...and not everyone is going to like that; the entire FWA roster isn't going to like someone who doesn't have an FWA contract just waltz on into the main event of the biggest show of the year. I mean, I get it. I do, but here's the thing.… I respect all the guys in this match, Shawn Summers, Tommy Bedlam, whoever it may be; They're good. I ain't saying they're not good...I'm just....better."

Chubby shrugs again with a vibe of "I hate to say it, but it's true."

"And I'm not putting anyone down; that's not me insulting anyone, that ain't my style, that's not ego. That's not even confidence. That's experience talking. That's history talking. I stepped in the ring day after day, month after month, year after year, put my money where my mouth was, and outperformed everyone. Krash. Cyrus Truth. Ultimate Pain. Alyster Black. Been there, done that. It's a fact; I'm just the best, and hey, if Danny Toner, MVH, J.J. Jay or whoever has a problem with me saying that. That's cool. Just step in the ring, and I can make a believer out of you too. So it doesn't matter if the FWA roster likes it or not. I'm just making a historical moment that FWA deserves! And when they see me raise my arms above my head in victory? I'll just shrug my shoulders and say I told you so Because when I call my shot, you'd better believe that I always back up every single word! Throughout this whole promo, I haven't been humble...I've told it EXACTLY how it is, and I had always lived up to everything I said when I stepped inside the ring! My track record speaks for itself. The list of "match of the year" candidates I've been a part of speaks for itself!

Chubby looks directly into the camera and grins with total self-assurance.

And so when I stand here in front of the entire World and call myself the "The FUTURE Carnal Contendership winner"... well, that's another name that you can guarantee I'll live up to! I've been proving myself every single year. I've never had an off-night, never wasted an opportunity. I have never delivered anything less than one hundred per cent. When I say I'm going to do something? I do it. If I have a goal? I achieve it. And when I say I'm going to win a match? You can stake everything you own on the fact that I WILL WIN! Besides going down the list, who could possibly stop me? Hell, I know how people just love to make an oh-so-shocking return...but you know what's going to happen? Let's say that the buzzer sounds and Danny Toner comes out, He'll come strolling down to the ring, and everyone in the crowd would know that the former world champ is ready to kick butt, but the moment he steps in the ring.

Chubby abruptly claps his hands together, making a SMACK sound effect.

Over the top rope, he goes! No one is gatecrashing my party tonight! This is my moment; I've come too far and worked WAY too hard for anything to stop me now! This is my time, and I don't care how much of a fight everyone wants to bring tonight...

He keeps his eyes locked onto the camera screen and yells.

..I'M ..BRINGING... MORE! I'm bringing everything that I have, EVERYTHING! And everything that Chubby Carlos has... is more than ANYBODY ELSE can hope to match!

Chubby looks fired up as he stares down at the ball in his hand before finally nodding his head with determination. He steps toward the camera, extending his arm to switch off the recording. As he does, Chubby makes sure to give the viewers that have stuck with him throughout his video blog journey a few final parting words before the most important night of their lives.

The next time that I talk to you,... The wrestling world will be changed forever. It's taken a long time to get here... but let me promise you all right now, it will be worth the wait. The moment and everyone in the battle royale doesn't know what's about to come their way because I will tear through ANYBODY that tries to stop me from making this happen. The next time I talk to you, it will be the main event of Back in Business.

Chubby clicks the "off" button to end this final video. With the uploading of Chubby's last video message coinciding with the pay-per-view's running time, After an entire day spent ruminating about the match at hand and what it means to him, Chubby Carlos is on the threshold of wrestling history.​

 

[SupineSnake]

cc secret entrant #4: death walker













“So right about now, you're asking yourself ‘what the fuck just happened?’.

Or better yet, you might be asking ‘how in the hell did we even get here?’.

Then again, it wouldn't surprise me if you weren't paying attention all this time. I know that I’ve never been one to make things easy to understand. But that's probably because I've enjoyed what came along with the consequences of my actions.”

​

A man in all white squats down besides another man laid out in white. Upon a closer look, one of the men is middle aged and dons a rugged yet groomed appearance. The other man is much older and weakened as he lays across his floor still able to function. Both men are wearing matching straitjackets and pants each with plenty of buckles and straps attached all over them. And yet there seems to be some difference amongst them: for one, the middle aged man doesn’t have his arms and hands restrained as the old man’s hands are still enclosed in the sewn up sleeves which have a few 4 foot straps on each end. And two, there's a glass barrier separating the two of them where the middle aged man is outside in like a tropical forest and the old man is within this state of the art 10 x 10 square foot, glass cell. The realities in which both men are currently residing sets in for them. The free prisoner stares at the ground in front of his white slip-ons, still squatting and gathering his thoughts. The picture becomes clearer as an aerial view presents more this beautiful and colorful jungle is decorated with an immense amount of lifeless bodies.

“So, how in the hell did we get here? Well let me take you back to how this whole thing started.”

“You see, I was once a respected man, maybe not loved or liked but I was respected nonetheless. In order to gain this respect sometimes, you gotta beat it out of others and press your foot hard on the necks of those who have trouble giving it to you. This is where life eventually catches up to you and when it does, it sets you straight. So when the law came after me with everything it could including several assault charges and much more. Making the insanity plea in my favor was the best option to go with. I stood there in court never uttering a word as my defense team handled the legalities. And then I ended up in a brand new home where I had to be monitored. An asylum.”

​

The middle aged man who now looks a few years younger than before as well as even more groomed, stands in typical prison attire in between four armed guards. With their guns drawn but not aimed, the four guards are ready to fire at will. Two other armed guards walk up to the man who is posing no threat at this moment especially since his wrists and ankles are cuffed. The two guards proceed to slide a straitjacket and pants with multiple straps onto the new inpatient then tighten the arm straps in the standard “arms across the torso” fashion. For additional security measures, the rest of the guards lay the man on his back and use the pants straps to bind his legs together before loading him into the back of the facility's van. All six guards pack into the van (two in the front seats with the other four riding in back with the inpatient) and then they take off to the mental institution.

“So this is what it feels like to have your freedom snatched away, to become so- so- so helpless. The inability to move or fight back, it's almost like not being able to breathe at all. My mind produces one thought after another and they multiply within an instance. But part of me just doesn't want to fight anymore. I had always believed that I was fighting for survival in any situation that arose and yet now I'm not sure if that was true at all. What the hell is going on with me? I feel tired, fatigued like I spent hours in the gym. Both my body and mind start to go numb. Just leave me the fuck alone until I feel up to deal with anything or anyone. Just leave me be.”

The man wakes up 3 hours later in a much darker space due to the change into nighttime. Just then, the white van comes to a creep as it pulls right up to a large security gate with a keypad for entering and exiting the property grounds. After the driver puts in the passcode, the gate slides open slowly and a few squeaks as it completes rolls wider. The van enters right through with its occupants as it drives further on the paved trails and within 15 minutes, it stops in front of the psychiatric hospital. The back doors of the van pop open and the man has his head lifted up to observe whatever he can while getting ready to be moved. Not uttering a word or sound but deep in thought, the man just focuses on what mental notes he can make.

“I could scream right now, I could even struggle with this damn jacket and pants, I could spit, try to bite, beg for mercy. But who am I kidding? That's not my style. That's not who I am or who I was. I am more in control than most would ever be, at least in the mental capacity. Although one would suggest otherwise given the circumstances I’m currently in. What am I doing? I should do something. DO SOMETHING ALREADY! Don't let them take over. Don't let them win.”

If only the man’s mind could speak, it would be so vocal that it might frighten the guards and orderlies who are removing him from the transportation. But with his last shred of dignity and the feeling of embarrassment, the man prefers not to talk at the moment. His eyes fill up with tears as the six armed guards and now two oversized orderlies carry him into the psychiatric facility like pallbearers bringing a casket. The man fights back the urge to shed a tear with watery eyes and the acknowledgment that he’s entirely defenseless. The men make their way to his padded room and the man’s heart damn near jumps out of his chest as he feels just as bad as being buried alive. They toss his motionless body onto the padded floor of his room and walk out. One of the orderly locks up the room and turns out the lights inside, leaving just the light from the observation window. The man lays on his left side with his back to the door and window, tears still in his eyes. And then they slip out, tracing down his cheeks as he thinks some more.

“I could have done better, been better. There was so much more to me and- and it's like no one ever understood. Maybe I should have wished for death or just- never mind, I’m losing it right now. I don't even know what I’m thinking. I’m just so hurt, angry and somehow lost.”

He was right because he was lost, lost in his bad decisions and sins. He laid there on that cold, cushioned floor until his body drained itself of energy and he safely faded to sleep.

​

The man flutters his eyelids to open his eyes then takes a deep breath while strapped up in his straitjacket. On an overhead speaker, he hears a voice greet him and the other patients before the lights are turned on in each of their rooms.

“Well hello and good morning our ambitious ambassadors! Let's go ahead and get on up! Rise and shine, warriors! Today, we expect you all to sit up and when you do a staff member will come in with breakfast, feed you then offer you some activities for today. So be good little miracles and we'll be there to make your day.”

“I roll my eyes a little at the thought of being treated like a toddler or pet. Thinking about how I feel today, I have no motivation at all. As a matter of fact, I'm not even moving my mouth or letting out any noises to talk. Just here, talking from my mind. Shit, I am crazy! Why the hell would I be talking to myself or “thinking” to myself!? Wait, that doesn't make any sense. I'm just thinking like every person does and thoughts have voices like my own but sometimes they are different too. Hmmm I'm wondering…”

So the man decides to just lay there and think, and think, and yeah think some more. He just laid there on that padded floor and no one disturbed him because after all he made no attempt to sit up. Eventually, he closed his eyes and went back to a peaceful sleep for some hours. But just when he thought that he was on his own schedule, the institution reminded him that he was theirs to control.

“Good afternoon! And how are you doing right now? Does anybody need anything? Another activity? A shower? A bath? A bathroom break? No, not yet? Okay just a reminder, we will be taking a few of you for a little walk outside. Won’t that be fun? Yeah? You betcha! Enjoy your day!”

The man opens his eyes under irritation since his sleep was interrupted by the new and LOUD announcement. He gets upset but has no way of unleashing that anger. He tugs to untangle his arms but the straitjacket brings him back to his senses. He stops trying to escape the jacket and just huffs as a response. Soon after, the door to his cell is opened and a pair of orderlies enter then lifts him up onto his feet. A female nurse walks in and greets this man as she explains what's about to happen for him.

“Hello sir, I know you feel like ‘what the heck is going on?’ but I can assure you that we're here to be helpful while assisting you with treatments. Can we trust you enough to free those healthy walking legs?”

The man nods very weakly as he can barely keep his eyes fully open.

“Good, good. And we can also get you fed, take you to our bathroom facilities and get you cleaned up if you want. However, we're gonna get you started with some walking around the hospital.”

And the man says his first word since the day he was apprehended.

“Outside?”

“Well yeah, around these hallways- wait, did you think outside meant outside outside like where the grass, air and birds are? Oh no no no. New patients aren't allowed outside our hospital for obvious reasons. But look at this, today is jello day! Let's take you for a walk first.”

The man feels even more defeated than he already was as his face loses all hope at finding his own peace. So he simply nods in agreement to taking this walk. The nurse gives the orderlies a nod and they begin to unstrap the man's legs. Taking time to let him stretch and shake those limbs, the orderlies hold the man by his restrained arms. Once the man can maintain his balance, they all walk along the hallways of the asylum.

“There we go, nice and easy. In this hallway here, are your fellow residents. All kinds of interesting people from those who prefer to be here to those who are too far gone to survive in society. Lost in their ways and-”

“Lost? What do you mean by lost?”

“They have completely given up or rather given into their own realities. They're unresponsive to what is happening here, don't understand that they're in a psychiatric facility. They live through the guidance and assistance of our help.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as they need but that usually ends up until their demise.”

"Demise?"

“Yes, until the day they expire. The day that their soul can no longer accept life and they die.”

The man stops in his tracks and turns his head to the right as he watches another man quite older struggling to live here. He peers into the window of the older man's better looking and realistic room. No padded walls, no padded ceiling or floor, clean, well furnished, a nice bed, couch, table, 2 windows (no doubt, reinforced and soundproof glass just like the ones on each door), bookshelf with books and a couple of artificial plants. But what has most of the middle aged man's attention is that he sees this old man apparently screaming and having a fit with 3 orderlies trying to calm him down. He continues to become more irate with the staff as they offer him to sit or lay down. The old man in ordinary tan scrubs violently throws a book and hits the table repeatedly before the orderlies forcefully lays him down and one goes to inject him with a type of sedative. The nurse breaks the man's concentration to go back to their relaxing walk.

“Don't worry, we're here to help you all and hopefully rehabilitate as many of you as possible. But you have to be willing to do the treatments and follow our instructions.”

The man has his head down with tears forming up as he fights to hold them back. He takes a deep gulp as he's swallowing his pride to not succumb to such fate as others. He nods again to let the nurse know that he is alright and then they continue to walk with the orderlies following along.

“So if you don't mind turning here to your right then you will see that we have a cafeteria and dining area for our patients who are ready to comply and listen. We even have TVs and sofas for those who can enjoy some entertainment while behaving themselves. On good days, we allow the good patients to go outside in our wide open back area where we play safe games, activities and exercises. We sometimes even get them to sing and dance.”

And as they had turned and walked down this new hallway to share the other places inside this big hospital, the man spoke up again.

“What is this? Is this supposed to be funny or something? What is this crap? All peace and hand holding? All smiles and kisses and hugs? What the fuck is this shit huh?”

“Sir, I would refrain from causing a scene.”

“Refrain? Refrain from causing a scene or having the freedom to speak my mind? I don't know whether you’re deliberately trying to fuck with me or if you're just this naive of dumb bitch to give me a delightful little tour around this fucking shithole! Hey! HEY! GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME! GET THE FUCK OFF ME! YOU BITCH! YOU FUCKING DUMB BITCH!”

The man is hoisted up and carried back to his room by the two orderlies. Kicking and tussling around, they hold him down to his padded floor as another orderly serves a sedative injection directly on his right hip. Within seconds, the man loses all that pent up rage at least from a physical standpoint. All the orderlies leave right after they have calmed the patient. The man murmurs a few incoherent rhetorics, fading from being alert and restless into a motionless slumber.

​

Finally able to get his bearings, the man wakes up to a dark room with the moonlight shining through some of the patient's door windows. He wiggles his legs to sit himself up against the wall then proceeds to use them to aid in getting all the way up. Pressing his back against the wall and digging his heels into one of the crevices between the cushions on the floor, the man scoots his way upward.

“Sir? Sir, please. Please relax.”

“Oh you can see me? That's what we're doing eh?”

“Sir, it is our duty to monitor each of our patients for safety precautions and take care of their needs as required.”

The man strains a little as he keeps making his way to a vertical base.

“Ohhh okay, to take care of my needs as required huh? Alright, I need to get out of here. I need to leave this asinine pathetic excuse for a prison hospital and I need to leave immediately. How about that? How about you just open this nice door and let me out?”

“Sir, we cannot just open your room door so you can escape the facility. In fact, you have quite the sentence given how the law has altered for the mentally ill. So that means that you will not only be in here until we deem you a competent and responsible citizen to society. But it also means you are ordered to stay here for a minimum of 3 years or 1,095 days. Either way based on your recent behavior, it's going to take some time before you can be out in the world again.”

“I don't deserve to be here! I've done nothing-”

“Nothing wrong, sir? We beg to differ seeing as you have severely injured over 250 people in the last 2 years. That's not even including the others throughout your lifelong rampage. So I urge you to stop trying to find your way out and please accept the treatment we provide. You cannot and will not escape us, we are very the best in mental healthcare and our security is top tier across the board.”

The man stands up and looks up at wherever the speaker has been installed. He mumbles a few words under his breath in an attempt to express himself openly.

“Stupid motherfuckers. We’ll see who can't escape this hellhole.”

The man paces the room, thinking of his options to be free. He then tries charging with full force at the door shoulder first and he gets a rude awakening. As he slams into the padded door and slides off like a wet lump of toilet paper, he keeps brainstorming and planning. This and the pain that he has inflicted by throwing his body into the reinforced steel cushioned door numerous times, puts the man back to sleep.

*Day 2*

The man sleeps heavily from all the energy spent on being a wrecking ball as well as the several thoughts running around his head. Different voices and all talking at the same time until another voice breaks through louder than the rest.

“Well hello and good morning our ambitious ambassadors! Let's go ahead and get on up! Rise and shine, warriors! Today, we expect you all to sit up and when you do a staff member will come in with breakfast, feed you then offer you some activities for today. So be good little miracles and we'll be there to make your day.”

Once again, annoyed by the announcement and now the voice that he had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the other day. The man tries to go back to sleep as he still has his eyes closed from the bright lights. However that's when his door is unlocked and his eyes click open from that glorious sound that he has been expecting. He patiently waits as he plays sleep a while longer for the aides to enter. They open the door and- and- and do nothing? The man becomes puzzled and turns over to look at the unguarded ajar door. He gets to his feet, hesitant to leave the room as he senses a trap about to be sprung. He tiptoes closer and closer to the door then decides to carefully step out. When a large satchel is dumped over his head, he tries kicking his way free since the only things that are free at the moment are his legs and feet. He kicks at the air before getting tased about 5 or 6 times then shoved back into his room where his legs are strapped back together tightly. The man rests in pain both physically and emotionally as he feels the electric currents tingle throughout his body.

Once again, the man is greeted by the jovial voice of the head nurse while laying there.

“Good afternoon! And how are you doing right now? Does anybody need anything? Another activity? A shower? A bath? A bathroom break? No, not yet? Okay just a reminder, we will be taking a few of you for a little walk outside. Won’t that be fun? Yeah? You betcha! Enjoy your day!”

He had heard all this before word for word as if it was a recording which it probably was. Or was it some kind of deja vu? Nope, those taser shocks were like nothing he had felt in decades. He paced himself before trying to put another plan in action. It wasn't long before the orderlies came in and snatched him up. And with his legs bound, they dragged the man out and took him to their bathrooms. The defenseless man is warned that if he doesn't comply or chooses to make things difficult that the orderlies will zap him again and again. The man accepts the situation that he is in and complies as they unstrap his pants then jacket so he can relieve his bladder and bowels like a grown adult. Removing the soiled pants and underwear while taking a hearty crap on the toilet, the orderlies and the man get the strong aroma that comes from the soiled clothes and body of the man. Although the obnoxious stench fills the room, the orderlies professionally bag and discard the soiled clothes while the man “drops some files off at the office”. Afterwards, the man flushes and washes his hands while naked before being escorted right over to the showers. The man goes on to take a long hot shower, it had been more than 48 hours since he had washed his body. The orderlies stand guard next to the showers, prepared for any other tricks to escape from this patient.

“You know you don't have to watch me shower! This is highly uncomfortable for me!”

“Sir, we have to be sure that you not only try to escape but that you don't harm yourself or plan any ways to harm others. So yes we have to stand here as you shower and since you’ve already tried to escape earlier. So yes, we have to be watchful of your every action until further notice.”

The orderlies do however turn their backs enough so they're not staring directly at the man’s body parts for all 3 of their sanity. Still keeping an eye from their peripheral vision though. The man goes into deep thought as he washes up.

“Shit, I might have a chance to take off now. But running around naked? That isn't exactly the best suitable option to pick. I might traumatize some people including myself. But I did notice that they are somewhat off guard while I'm in here, so I’ll remember that.”

“Uh buddy, mind hurrying up? I'm sure we got a line forming out the door of other patients with their nurses or orderlies.”

“Alright, I'm finishing up. Older men like myself take some time to properly clean our bodies. You’ll learn when you get to my age.”

The man turns the water off and grabs a nearby clean towel. He dries his body then grabs the fresh pair of patient garments, underwear and shoes set next to the towels. Once the man gets fully dressed again, the orderlies help the man back in the strap pants and straitjacket. Tightening the arm restraints like the armed guards did, they secure two of this patient's deadliest weapons. Then the orderlies guide the man out the bathroom as they run into a crowd of other patients and orderlies. The crowd berates the man as he's escorted back to his room. The man continues to comply with the staff as he is fed lunch and later some dinner.

*Day 8*

The man is awakened as usual by the morning announcement and he is becoming quite the role model. He listens as much as possible, he cooperates with the staff and he even wears a smile (whether it's with good intentions or not is left to one’s imagination). The orderlies have eased up on being overly restrictive as the man is looking to make great strides.

“Okay today, we're going to have you speak with someone special. Do you mind if we have you do that?”

“Why not at all, not at all! I'm really enjoying the hospitality and leisure here. I can't remember the last time that I’ve felt- felt so liberated and relaxed. It's as if I’m living my healthiest and best life. Well minus, the money, cars and h- ladies, am I right? Huh, am I right? Come ok, smile with me.”

The nurse and orderlies all have smiles as they understand when patients get like this. They communicate using their eyes before leading the man into an office. As the man enters the office, another well dressed man spins around in a desk chair.

“Hello, why don't you have a seat?”

“Hi, um, do I know you?”

The man goes to take a seat on the couch that's in this office. The nurse makes the orderlies and herself stay out of the office as she closes the door behind them.

“Now that's much better, isn't it? I'm the onsite psychologist and my name is-”

“Look, I don't give a fuck what your name is. I'm not speaking to some shrink. What am I supposed to do? Sit here and pour out all my feelings and mistakes? To try and figure out the man that I know I am? To explain to you why I did what I did? Uh uh, no thank you.”

The man hops up to his feet and begins to pace carefully as he gets his train of thought going.

“What mistakes?”

“Huh?”

“What mistakes? You said sit here and pour out all my feelings and mistakes. What mistakes are you referring to?”

“I mean maybe I shouldn't have been so angry that inflicted my pain onto others like- Oh fuck, you sly bastard. You almost got it out of me, you almost got it. But not today, you don't.”

“It’s okay to talk to someone about this.”

“Yeah well, the last person or thing I talked to couldn't stick around long enough to help me overcome how I feel. Just got up and disappeared forever.”

“And I am so sorry that happened.”

The man can't take any more of this therapy consultation and chooses to walk out of the office. He is quickly stopped by the orderlies who advise him to return.

“I’m not going back in there so fuck it and fuck you.”

“Sir, what seems to be the issue?”

The nurse came from around the other hallway as she overheard the commotion.

"I don't want to do this!"

“But sir, this is a part of the treatment here. You're only going to make your time here worse. Please return to the therapist.”

“NO FUCKING WAY! FUCK YOU TOO!”

The man unravels just like he did a week ago and in the same manner, the orderlies snatch up the irate patient but not until they tase him a couple of times. Again, the orderlies hold down the man and give him a sedative to calm him down. After the sedative kicks in, they slip on his favorite jacket and extra pants. They wrap him up like a mummy and go on with their business.

*Day 36*

“Well hello and good morning our ambitious ambassadors! Let's go ahead and get on up! Rise and shine, warriors! Today, we expect you all to sit up and when you do a staff member will come in with breakfast, feed you then offer you some activities for today. So be good little miracles and we'll be there to make your day.”

The same exact message played day in and day out as the man just laid there. Hopeless, just like the night that he was brought into this asylum. The man looks to be in a shabby condition with redness in his eyes, his facial hair and head hair grew as well as became more unkempt. The man was starting to look unrecognizable and nobody cared to groom him. Today, the staff was going to make sure he took a walk since it had been about 2 weeks since his last walk. The orderlies unstrapped his legs and grabbed him by the arms to assist in him using his legs. It wasn't a long walk as the man barely made any effort to put pep in his stroll. Then he was carried off to get washed up. So of course, they had a few female nurses give him a bath due to his complete meltdown shutting off his ambitious nature. Afterwards, he was dressed in fresh clothes and sent back to his room where he would just lay and sometimes blink his eyes. It would be several days and months until the man would be back to his usual charming self.

*Day 185*

​

Back with a chipper attitude, a few grays in his hairline and a shaggy beard, the man sat at a table playing solitaire in the activity room. All alone, not like he was even going to notice any other patients anyways. He just sat there, slowly placing cards in order and never raising his head for a second. That was before the old man was wheelchaired in by an orderly and set in front of the TV close to the window on this nice sunny afternoon. The orderly turns on the news for the old man and exits the room. The middle aged man raises his head and looks over towards the old man. He makes the effort to have a brief conversation with him.

“Sure is fascinating the wild stuff you see on there. That news will rot your brain, old man.”

The man thought some light humor would help break the ice, so to speak. The old man doesn't respond at first, he just glares at the television screen while sitting in his wheelchair.

“Tell me about it, I have told that asshole on many occasions that I would love to watch some porn. I guess this is all this modern state of the art facility can afford.”

Both men smirk at the audacious humor that they share as they seem to enjoy each other's company. The old man, still focused on what's on the TV screen, inquires about his new friend.

“So do you mind telling me what brought you here? Did you sign up on the ridiculously long waitlist?”

“Not this time. I guess you could say I hurt a lot of people over the course of a decade. And I got old and more reckless these past years. I was bound to wind up in a place like this or the morgue.”

“Sucks for you, I heard that you get the best sleep at the other place and no one bothers you as you lay there.”

“Yeah, you got a point.”

"What made you hurt people?"

"It was kind of my career until it was time to move on."

“Oh so, like a fighter or something?”

“Something like that.”

“Yeah well, don't let this place fool you. It can seem great but it has its wickedness too. The best thing to do is to figure out what's real and what isn't then use that to your advantage.”

“I feel like I've tried that many of times in the past and I still ended up in here. Locked up, monitored, chastised and reprimanded. I just want to be me, do my own thing. Why is that so hard to understand? I just want that feeling of true freedom like whenever fought in a ring. You get what I mean?”

“Yes. And I'm free within, but inside of here, in this place we all are trapped to their ways of how they want us to live. I suppose that's just the way it goes but I can see that you’re special, my boy. And I mean that with no insult or disrespect, you just seem very enthusiastic. Unlike me though, you're trapped inside yourself and out there to all of the ways that society expects you to conform. But at least, you were able to use certain freedoms when you were in those rings.”

“Yeah and what good has that gotten me?”

“I mean whoever said you couldn't find a way to feel free in any place? Who said you had to stop fighting until your satisfaction is achieved?”

The old man suddenly coughs into his hand and waves at the viewing window for the orderly to return him to his room.

“Just think about it, the fight doesn't have to stop because you had some setbacks. Just continue to be you and fight with everything you got inside.”

Orderlies enter the activity room and one of them wheels the old man back to his room.

“But-”

It was too late to get any final word but an orderly came over to the man.

“Ok sir, would you like to have a chat with our onsite therapist today?”

“I- I'm not sure.”

“Well it'll really be helpful, might even explain some things you never took the time to focus on.”

The man takes a second to think but the wise words from the old man replays in his head.

“Sir?”

“Okay, lead the way.”

The man gets up from the table, setting the handful of cards down next to the solitaire columns. He follows right behind the orderly who's leading him to the therapist office. The orderly opens the door once they make it there.

“Right in here.”

“Thanks.”

The man enters the room and the psychologist is keeping eyes on him as he gets a sense of this patient.

“Welcome back.”

“Thank you.”

“I thought this time around we would just have a short session, nothing too heavy. I just want to see where you're at since our last encounter.”

“Alright. Go ahead.”

“First, how are you doing?”

“I can't complain but I'm still not too comfortable.”

“Is it the padded floor that you sleep on?”

“YES! Amongst other things.”

They both have a light chuckle and the therapist goes on with the consultation.

“Other things? Like what?”

“Well the food, some of the smells, the fact that I feel like no one understands.”

“Understand what exactly?”

“How I feel, how this all feels very boxed in. Like I literally feel that everything here is to anger me more.”

“Mm hmmm.”

The doctor jots down a few notes as he maintains the conversation.

“Well it is designed to make a person reflect while blocking out all outside distractions that the world constantly throws at us. So when having it accept change, it can be frustrating for the time being. However if you find a balance then that can put that angry feeling away.”

“But that's the thing, I don't want it to go away. Ever.”

“And why is that?”

“The anger, it- it fuels me with overwhelming joy. It makes me feel alive when I become destructive, especially to others who I feel deserve it.”

“And how do you determine who deserves it?”

“Just those who get on my bad side.”

“And how does one get on your bad side?”

“You see! I knew this was some bullshit!”

“Relax, deep breath. Deep breath. Talk to me like you were when you entered. There's no need to use anger with me, I'm here to be helpful.”

The man listens to the psychologist and takes a couple of breaths before continuing their conversation.

“I mean maybe I just don't feel like I'm understood or respected.”

More notes are written as the conversation keeps going.

“Well let me ask you, are you giving respect first or expecting it?”

“Shit, I- pardon me, I do TRY to show respect but.”

“But what?”

The doctor is looking straight at the man as he pauses to think.

“But it feels like no one cares. No one cares about what I've been through and who I am now. What am I supposed to do? Cower and kiss ass? Fuck no. Excuse me.”

“Can I be frank for a minute?”

“Yes, for the love of God almighty. Yes, please.”

“Who cares if they don't care? You're who you are because you chose to be who you are. Am I right?”

“Well.”

“Yes or no? Are you the person that you wanted to be and happy about it?”

“You're damn right I am.”

“So the issue doesn't seem to be that you're more blunt than most but you violently attack whether verbally or physically.”

“Hmmmm.”

“One of the first steps to self improvement is defining and understanding the root of your issue or issues.”

“Which is?”

“You are going to tell me. Tell me when was the first time you felt anger to the point of taking it out on someone else.”

“I guess right before my parents died.”

“And how did they die?”

“An unexpected safety hazard.”

“Oh so you weren't there?”

“Actually, I was. Which still kind of confuses me.”

“Why is that?”

“Because somehow I survived and they didn't!”

The doctor looks up from his notepad after writing down some key points.

“And you loved them, didn't you?”

“I- I did. Very much, I loved them.”

The man hangs his head down as he feels weak for being this vulnerable with anyone. The therapist gives him a brief moment but continues with his questions.

“And they loved you. Right?”

The man says nothing but nods his head while staring at his shoes, eyes flooding with tears and emotion.

“Were you responsible for their death?”

“No, I-”

“I will ask you again.”

“Did you kill your parents? Were you the reason for that accident?”

And as the man tries to respond back, he feels like the air is taken out of him. Then his words and sounds, he trembles a bit as he can't seem to breathe and unwillingly stammers while attempting to get words out of his mouth.

“I- I- I- I don't know! I didn't mean to! I DON’T KNOW!”

“Ok just take another moment and breathe. Forget the questions, forget about your parents for now. Just breathe slowly under my instructions.”

“1, 2, 3, breathe. And 1, 2, 3, breathe. And one more time. 1. 2. 3. Breathe.”

The man does just as the therapist asked and it relieves his stress instantly.

“What happened to me?”

“Strangely enough, your conscience is fighting with your heart. Something happened and it looks like you're not ready to acknowledge what all happened.”

“Have you been around death before?”

“No, I don't think th-”

The man falls into a trance again as his mind runs at a million miles per hour. Freezing up in midsentence, the doctor makes more notes but tries to get the man back on track.

“Sir? Sir? Let’s move on as we wrap up.”

“Besides your parents, when's the last time you felt loved?”

“Oh, um, well there was that one time- no. No. But then this girl I dated- no. Hmmm. I don't know.”

“Alright. Let me finish writing my personal notes and I'll give you my honest diagnosis. Okay?”

“Oh, okay?”

The man has an eyebrow up as he waits for the final verdict of this short session. The psychologist looks over at his patient and gives him feedback.

“Based on the little time we just spent, I can tell that-”

“That what? I'm fucking crazy? I'm out of my mind?”

“Sir. Please.”

“...”

“I can tell that you're stuck between your actions and your feelings. Dead in the center. One side, you want to be loved. You desire it, need it. On the other side, you love to attack anything that feels phony. Too real to be true as the saying goes. So you’ve made a protective barrier on being volatile as a way of expressing your intolerable side with anyone or anything that doesn't come across as genuine as you do, whether they are or not. You've become your worst enemy. A vigilante. A judge, jury and executioner all in one. And there's no rationalization to be had, you're on a one track mind. One way, your way and no in between.”

“...”

The man sits there silently on the doctor's couch, nodding his head at the full extent of what he was told.

“You see, I knew your ass was full of fucking shit. I know who the fuck I am! I'm the one who gets provoked first and THEN I retaliate. That's who the fuck I am. I'm not some sick son of bitch out here, just hurting people just because. I hurt as a lesson, I hurt as a reminder.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah!”

The patient jumps up to his feet with rage and madness swirling in his death-like stare.

“Well answer me this then. When are you going to change for the better, not the worst? When are you going to forgive yourself? When are you going to seek the gold at the end of the rainbow?”

“Oh there’s gold, alright and I've seen it but the thing is, there is no more rainbow or sunshine. There’s just a dark corrupted world full of lies and sins. And you know what? I want in! I'm not changing today or tomorrow and whoever gets HURT along the way, then it must have been their day of reckoning for I will slaughter them and collect their souls.”

*insert image of hallway*

The Answers Are Never Easy To Find

The man takes off out of the room like a pissed off employee who had been fired. Storming down some new forbidden hallways, the man finds some other patients in less than pleasant cells. No padding, hard steel and concrete prison cells. Almost identical to the “rooms” that he and the other patients who that he saw on a regular basis, were used to.

*insert image of dark hallway*

“What the fuck? This doesn't look that healthy at all. Did I stumble into a vortex?”

The man explores further, following the echoed screams of torture. Carefully sneaking down a stairwell to a basement level that he never knew existed.

“Now this is more to my liking.”

He states as he drops down into utter darkness and he goes to search for a light switch or something to help him find his way around. When all of a sudden, a flame from a lighter is lit and it reveals the faces of some angry orderlies up close. That's when he's struck in the back of the head with the butt of a rifle. The man collapses onto the pavement, ice cold knocked out.

*Day 337*

It had been countless months upon countless months. Or had it? That's the thing about losing track of time and being concussed, it turns your sense of everything upside down. As the man wakes up to his new living quarters (a dim lit, non-padded cell with a steel bed attached to its wall), he attempts to recall what he last remembers. He starts looking around when he sees that he's on a gurney with a feeding tube down his throat and IV in his arm. He goes to grab the IV and the nurse enters his cell.

“Oh wow, our little troublemaker is finally awake. You took a nasty hit to the back of your head. But don't worry, we patched you up real nice and kept you all cozy in your new spot. How do you like it huh? Isn’t it exquisite?”

The man quickly looks all around the room seeing unfamiliar yet familiar features.

“This is what happens when you’ve been a bad boy. This is what happens when you’ve fucked up.”

With each of those sentences, the nurse snatches the IV and feeding tube out. This sends an extreme wave of pain through the man but not too much that he can't handle. So the result isn't crying or screaming but a small grunt.

“Hmm, a tough guy I see and here I believed you would be screaming your bloody freakin’ head off. I want you to know that you made us do this. You made us turn this and you into something more sinister and vile than it needed to be. We were all okay with having you here as our patient over on the other side. You had started to become another prime example of how great our services and treatments are. But then, then you had to go and fuck it up being NOSEY! And if there’s one thing that we don't take kindly to, are nosey, belligerent, combative patients. We have some special ways to deal with patients of your type. And soon, you will experience every last thing that we intend on doing to you and others. Like the old man who you made a friendship with.”

“Look, spare me the spooky shit! I’ve dealt with scarier shit that would make you live your life in constant fear and uncontrollably peeing your pants.”

“Well, too bad we won't find out because you won't be a problem too much longer. Perhaps a good old fashioned lobotomy should straighten you up, yes? Okay. BRING UP THE SURGEON!”

“Okay wait, let's talk-”

“Talk? No, I'm sorry. The time for talking is now over. It's time to dish out some agonizing, excruciating, mind numbing PAIN! But where the fuck is that brain surgeon? Stay here, I'll be right back.”

The nurse skips out of the room like she's doing her best Harley Quinn impression. Meanwhile, the man goes to sit up or moves his limbs but he is strapped down from his ankles to his shoulders. Plus the atrophy that has set in over time is weighing him down. But that doesn't stop him from trying to break free as wiggles around like a dancing worm. The man manages to get one of his feet loose from then the other. With some more vigorous squirming helps him get his wrists free where he can undo the rest of the restraints. He goes to get up off the gurney and flops face down onto the hard floor.

“UUGGHHHHH! Now that hurts.”

Working to get blood flow back in his limbs, the man struggles to get up. However, he eventually gets his arms and legs to help him get off the floor. He reaches the door and pushes it open, that's when he is transported to the most beautiful multicolored jungle he could ever imagine. He also notices that the color of his patient scrubs changed from tan brown to all white. Slightly confused and in awe, he still concentrates on the objective to save the old man and take down anybody that gets in his way. The man is aware that what he is seeing can't be real but he knows that he can still survive through this anyways.

*insert image of colorful jungle*

Being ever so vigilant as the man navigates through bushes, vines and trees, he looks for the hill that could possibly take him to the old man. Just as he explored through this jungle listening for danger, he heard something. There were male voices getting closer to his location as he peeked his head to see who it was. He gets a glimpse of hunters searching for animals with their weapons drawn. The man gets low and crawls using elbows and feet to move out of their range. But soon a barrel of a rifle pokes him in the head and he can tell that he is caught.

“There you are, a catch worthy of a great bounty. Roll over for me.”

The man slowly rolls but yanks the rifle and strikes the face of the hunter. He tussles with the hunter as he goes to take him out without alerting the others. The man gets a hold of the rifle and uses it to cut this hunter's air supply by pressing it against his throat. Unable to make any loud noises, the man cracks him in the nose with a hard headbutt then clunks the hunter on the side of his head to knock him out. The man carefully maneuvers through large bushes and around trees with a rifle in hands. Seeing that he’s unable to get around the hunters, he aims the rifle and shoots one of them in the ass. The hunter hollers before the tranquilizer dart knocks him out. The other hunters rush over to see what happened and find the hunter taken down by the dart. This puts the rest of them on edge as the man hides behind a tree. The man listens for the footsteps and the rustling of the leaves, the snapping of twigs. When he hears one of them secluded and within his range, he strangles them from behind using the rifle. He goes back to moving low amongst the others after that hunter passes out. Timing a perfect moment to attack, he aims the rifle at a hunter. And as they get closer to crossing one another, he takes a shot at the shoulder which causes the hunter to involuntarily shoot the other and they both are down for the count.

The man stands up all the way, takes a look around before heading out. He can hear certain animals making noises in the distance. He prays that they don't come for him as he approaches the cliff to the hill. Carefully leaning back and creeping down the hill, the man looks for any signs of the old man. He can spot something bright, big and glowing in the near distance. But before he can make his full descent down the hill, he's being shot at by multiple shooters.

“THERE HE IS! GET HIM!”

“I’VE GOT AN IDEA, RELEASE THE ANIMALS!”

As the man was dodging the darts and rocks being thrown, one of the hunters released the caged animals. The gunfire stops while the animals seek out the man’s scent.

“Call for backup! Call all the reinforcements to meet us over here, he’s not getting to the old man.”

The man tries to climb back up the hill but slips and goes sliding down to the bottom. As he’s about to panic, he calms himself for the sake of his life and nature's beasts. He looks around for somewhere to hide, there's a river and a hollowed out log as his options. But he's too large to fit in the log and he would rather not dive in the river of unknown creatures and filth. He instead pulls down one of the hanging vines and uses it to climb his way up a tree. And just in time as a tiger swiped at him and he was dangling from the vine. Unable to keep a grip of the vine and rifle at the same, the man fumbles the rifle and it drops to the ground below. This actually causes it to trigger and it pops off a dart at a rhino. However the rhino goes charging at the tree as it fights through the drug. A lion creeps out of the bushes and gets into a fight with the rhino and the tiger sees this and joins in. A chimpanzee climbs up another tree as the man is getting up to the strong branch that the vine was attached to. As the man pulls himself up and sits on the branch, the chimp hops onto his face and pulls his hair. Blinded right now and trying to keep balance, the man pulls at the body of the chimp but she won't release. The man continues to fight with the chimp, he pulls on one of her legs bend it back while the chimp bites at his skull.

“AAARRGGGH, YOU STUPID FUCK!”

The man punches the monkey on her back a few times then pokes both her eyes and flips it off by yanking the back of her head. The chimpanzee drops down below, barely hurting herself as she scurries off when she falls on the ground. The man turns to a group of rifle barrels at his face as hunters are standing close to the edge of a cliff. Some of them grab the man by the arms as he contemplates falling down below but he isn't sure of what animals survived the melee. They pull the man over to them, immediately pin him down and shove a straitjacket and strapped pants onto him. Then they escort him to the enormous high tech cell that's in the middle of the jungle. Inside the cell is a bookshelf, a twin bed, a chair and a small table with no other than the old man. The lead hunter makes her way around the large gathering of other hunters.

“Did you really think it would be that easy to save the old man or escape the habitat? You know, to be such a threat to other people, you really are dumb as hell.”

“At least I tried, right?”

“Yeah you did but like I told you when you first got here, you cannot and will not escape us. Now for the butcher, come and give our misbehaved mongrel a change in attitude. Lay him down, boys!”

The man struggles as a last attempt to fight off these hunters. The butcher comes over with a huge cleaver and chef’s knife in his hands.

“Hold still, buddy. I promise to make this quick and easy.”

Just as the butcher was about to slice into the man’s scalp, the chimp returned by hopping on the man’s back. Which somehow she loosened the straps of his straitjacket as he shakes the monkey off. And now this provides the man with one last chance to overcome the odds. He extends his arms and uses the straps at the end of his arms as whip-like weapons. The man wraps both straps around the fat throat of the butcher. The butcher’s face turns color as he can't breathe but he swings the cleaver and knife. And the man takes advantage of the blade, raising his legs so that the butcher cuts the straps loose. The hunters try to get a clear shot without accidentally shooting the butcher. But the man pulls the butcher closer for a shield and the lead hunter gives the order to take the man down for good.

“What are you waiting for? SHOOT HIM! I WANT HIM FINISHED ONCE AND FOR ALL!”

The man pushes the overweight butcher backwards into a side of hunters as he flips up on his two feet. Now able to at least fight the horde of hunters that surround him, the man is overjoyed to demolish each one. The lead hunter walks through the others as the big fight takes place. The man unwraps the straps from the butcher's neck as he catches his breath. Hunters charge at the man one after another and are met with kicks, punches, hard smacks from the straps, choked out and tossed around. The fight goes on for around 40 minutes until the 50 hunters are all subdued. And the man, roughed up and beaten, goes over to the large cell as his friend lays inside. The middle aged man squats down beside the old man, not looking over at the old man. Because he feared that just like other people in his life, he would be gone. Which in the condition of the old man, he was about to die.

“So this is it? You die after I fight to save your life?”

“Dying… is but a part of life. But… not living… is the worst way to leave the world. I lived free all of my life… no matter this cell. No one could ever… lock away my life. So if this is the… end, then I had a good run. It's your turn now, remember to… live free. Don't ever give up… or give in to what they design for you. Fight back!”

“Try fighting this!”

The lead hunter shouts from a far enough distance and pulls the trigger to her sniper rifle aimed at the head of the middle aged man.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Everything goes black and zooming out the side of a certain masked individual. He jumps as if spooked or awakened abruptly.

“So you had a vision, did you?”

The masked man nods a little and the hooded one speaks some more.

“You went from a deathmatch tournament and made it to the semifinals. Although it took two men to take you down and halt your continued terror, we're not done yet. They want to stack 29 other men and women against their dark fate in this Carnal Contendership? A match where the main rule is toss the other wrestlers over the 3 ropes?Okay, we’ll keep pushing our way through. I know for a fact that you can knock or push any of the other competitors over those ropes while preventing them from tossing you over. Don't forget the golden rule to this, which is if you do not go over the top rope then you are not eliminated, alright? We're getting closer and closer to hitting big, I can feel it. Our reign of darkness is on its way and our Terrors of Darkness are building in numbers all over the world. And they have never been more proud of you, My Lord. We are still just beginning, as someone once told me… live free… and fight back!”

The scene slides down like an elevator as another is on top and it stops as it fits into the frame. There's a long table in a room of darkness, one big beam of light shines from above and across the table to right in front of the end of it. 6 pairs of hands are presented and clutched together in front of each available space on both sides of the long table. The seventh and most important sets of hands are set palm down on the table within the spotlight from the sun. These hands wear black and gold medieval gauntlets and from the end of the table, a voice speaks.

“Present The Messenger!”

Someone brings The Messenger and lays him on the huge table as he's barely breathing from the torment that he took. The people at this table witness the work of their new problem in Los Angeles. A piece of bloodied paper hangs from the white, rugged and battered young man.

“What is that?”

The gauntlets snatch the paper out of the pocket of The Messenger. He takes a minute to look over what has been written on the back of one of their letters. Then he reads it aloud to the others in attendance.

“To the CCC or California Criminal Council… your dear Freak… Show is no longer in charge of this western chapter as a result of negligence and ignorance when respecting a man of my unlimited reach and power. I do not regret any action that was made upon such a failure in leadership. Please take this miserable excuse for an appropriate messenger and those medical bills as my compensation to you. There's no reason to honor or thank me for my handiwork. You can rest assured that this section as well as the rest of LA is under great management now. So you do NOT have to see me in person as when the time comes, I will be the one to come to you. Do not bother sending me a message again as it will be either ignored or sent with another unpleasant message from myself. Yours truly. ~The King of Los Angeles~

Fellas… our problem is bigger than we thought.”

Fade to black.