As Hysteria begins to pray to The Higher Power, Glasses opens the safe. Adams takes a step back and yells at Hysteria.

O Migh-… Boss! They got the door open!

Hysteria raises a finger at Adams as if to signify to wait a few moments. Adams turns away and back towards Glasses.

You know, you don’t have to do this.

Shut up. This is our mission. What the fuck do you know?

I can see that you’ve been confused… conflicted. You don’t know whether you agree with the man in the Lincoln mask or whatever The Asylum is. I can see the doubt… without even looking at your face. It’s all in your body language.

What the fuck? You’re a bank teller not a fucking shrink. Get the fuck in there before I paint the walls with your blood.

Adams pushes Glasses into the vault. The room is small with a brick interior. On the sides of the rooms are locks connected to drawers. Adams points the gun at Glasses and motions for him to start unlocking the drawers. He does as instructed and begins pulling out the drawers. He takes the bags within the drawers and begins setting them on the table. Adams steps forward and opens the bag. As he looks within, he sets the gun down on the table. Unbeknownst to him, Glasses takes notice of this and glances from the gun to Adams. The second President of the United States reaches into the bag and pulls out a rubber band banded set of $20. He begins laughing as he throws it up in the air. Adams looks through the bag to find more and more bands of money! He begins pointing at Glasses and demanding he open more lock boxes and pull out their loot.

Glasses does as he’s told as he grabs another lock box and pulls out the bag from within in and sets it on the table. Adams furiously peruses its contents laughing to himself as he does. He notices out of the corner of his eyehole that Glasses has stopped pulling out boxes. He turns to face him and notices Glasses has his gun…



Pointed right at him.

Adams is frozen in place.

Get on the ground…. NOW!





IN THE LOBBY


Psst!






PSST!

Shhh! Do you want us to get caught bro?

All of the hostages are lying face down on the floor on their bellies. All of them have their hands over their heads. The one ‘Pssting’ is a fit bald man probably in his early 30’s. A foot or two away from him is the man ‘shhing.’ The Shhher has long hair coming over his face and looks roughly 26. He has a well-trimmed beard covering his face. The two are looking up at each other as they have their whispering conversation.

Tuck, (the bald man said) we can stop this. We can save these innocent people, brother!

Sammy, you know we can’t play super heroes. We’re not bullet proof. We’re not super fast. Just because we ate hot sauce on our breakfast burritos does not mean we can breathe fire.

Bro, there’s only two of them. We can totally take them. Only one of them is even on our side of the floor.

I don’t kn-

We’re doing this. Follow my lead.

They stay as still as possible. Soon Nixon makes his rounds holding the secretary as his hostage. As he passes by the two men, Sammy leaps to his feet and smashes a brutal blow into the back of Nixon’s head. Nixon drops the gun and the girl. The girl falls to the ground and is barely conscious. Nixon turns around in a fury and the two men begin exchanging blows back and forth. Tuck scampers forward and grabs the gun. He raises it and aims it at Nixon. Nixon sees the young man holding the gun aimed directly at him. Sammy turns to see Tuck and as he does, Nixon grabs him in a rear choke hold. Nixon tightens the hold as he stares off with Tuck. Tuck’s hands tremble as he holds the gun. Nixon stops choking Sammy and flings him towards Tuck! As he does so, the movement frightens Tuck who fires!







Into his brother Sammy.



Sammy falls to the ground with a thump. Tuck looks down at his brother in sheer horror. He looks up just in time to see a fist colliding with his jaw. Tuck flies back into the wall. His neck snaps back over the top of it as he slides down the wall. The gun slides down onto the floor. Nixon picks up the gun and picks up the girl. Neither of the two brothers are moving.




Hysteria.


Hysteria finally finishes up his prayer as he stands up. He heard the sound of a gun shot and he wasn’t sure where it came from. He places the Lincoln mask over his mask. ‘Lincoln’ walks down the hall way to where the main vault is and sees money strewn out everywhere. He also looks up to see Glasses holding Adam’s piece aimed at him.

Oh what th-


Glasses immediately turns the gun at Lincoln as Adams ambushes him instantly!



BLAM!


The shot goes off!

Lincoln looks down at himself as if looking for the entrance. After a second’s search, he breathes a sigh of relief as the shot had missed. Hysteria begins laughing. He turns about-face to see where the bullet had sunk into the wall behind him. After glancing at the spot, he then touches the spot with his index finger through the gloves. With great ease, Hysteria pivots until his index finger is in the direction of Glasses. The aid of Hysteria has the purchaser of death in a full nelson whilst his finger does protrude into his face.

Well hello again. I thought you might learn from the error of your ways, but evidently I was mistaken. As the finger behind that trigger, you’ve just been awarded something grand. Something fantastic. Something debonair. Something a mortal can only experience once besides a lucky few…

Lincoln then removes the top mask revealing the Hysteria mask. The shape on the cloth continues reforming itself in mystifying patterns as the face of Glasses looks on in a mixture of trepidation and anticipation.

What are you?

A slight roar is heard as the growl emits from the diaphragm all the way up through the esophagus through the mouth. The laughter erupts like an explosion ripping its way through the echoing room.

My sire! What an excellent question you pose. The answer is indeed… A Prophet. A Guide to the book of Higher Power. In addition… a shepherd to serenity. Au revoir monsieur Lunettes.

The Masked Prophet quickly lifts up the pistol laying on the floor and aims the barrel at the temple of Glasses. With a quick pull with his index finger, the trigger comes back and the bullet bursts forward sending a gush of red, liquid out of the opposite side of the head. Adams drops the limp body as they begin assembling all of the funds floating inside the room. Once done so, they proceed to evacuate the room being sure to close the door behind themselves. Hysteria, once more dons the cowl of Abraham Lincoln.

Once they return to Obama and Nixon, Nixon throws his captive to the floor. Lincoln throws his share of the bags to Nixon. Obama leaps back across the counter and joins back up with the other three. Adams splits his load with him.

Lincoln moves his hand towards the corner as Adams begins barking orders at the hostages telling them to move to the corner. Once they do that, Hysteria notices the two bodies that are unmoving.

A little problem, Nixon?

Nothing I couldn’t handle, boss.

Very well. PEOPLE. You see these corpses here? If you want your fate to be the same as these, you will revolt. However, I’d highly advise against that. I don’t estimate that you peasants are imbeciles. Here’s how this this going to work… I will open these doors and walk out to greet…

WOOOP

Ah, right on time. These nice gentlemen in blues. Whilst I am conversing with them, you are to remain in here for at least (checks his watch) ten minutes. If you do that, you shall be safe not only from me, but from the police who will undoubtedly be a little trigger happy after our brief dialogue. Ne-

WE HAVE THE BUILDING SURROUNDED! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS OVER YOUR HEAD!

The booming bullhorn interrupts Hysteria who seems peeved by the very idea. The four masked men begin to walk towards the front door and fling them open. They place the guns on the ground in front of them and do as instructed placing their hands far above their heads. All that is with the exception of the leader of this four-man tandem. The bullhorn begins blowing again.

YOU THERE! ABRAHAM LINCOLN! HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!

Hysteria disregards the message and instead begins laughing as his hands are extended far out to the left and right. He quickly brings them to his side in the forms of guns. Not actual guns, just with his thumb up and his index finger extended. The cops and bullhorn begin yelling at him loudly. He laughs even louder and ‘fires’ one of his guns at the nearest cop.







Of course nothing happens as it’s only a ha-


The cop falls over as a large bloody wound is exposed on his chest! The officers begin frantically scattering trying to find cover, but Hysteria points his ‘handgun’ at another and fires! He goes down as well! He quickly begins pointing and firing until all six policeman are prone in a pond of crimson regret.

Hysteria spots one officer remaining but he begins running. Hysteria points his handgun at him, but hesitates as he notices he’s just a young man. He takes his hand down and allows the young man to escape. His head turns as he lifts a walkie talkie from his backpack to his ear.

Yes, we’re all good. YES. I know I let a pig live. It’s fine. Just a kid. Let him tell the story of how The Asylum conquered this day.

With a grunt, Hysteria turns around to be faced by the same old man that he met in the blizzard.

How…? Hehe, what a great coincidence.

The Prophet reaches into one of the bags and throws a rubber band worth of 20’s at the elderly gentleman. The old man’s face is never shown as his hand begins to stop shaking as the 20’s fall into the cup.

Hysteria stares at him perplexed by him until Herbert pulls up in the van.

BOSS! We have to go!

Hysteria leaps into the open sliding door alongside Adams, Nixon, and Obama. The door closes as the van hightails it out of there. The camera shows the three men on the top of the roof of a building across the street (Ulysses S. Grant, Dwight “IKE” Eisenhower, and Ronald Reagan) running away with two enormous sniper rifles on their backs.





Present Day


Crrrrssssssssss.

The sound of static fills the void as the picture eventually comes to back of Hysteria who has his hands behind his back.

The time has arisen my friends and the dawning of a new era in the XWF has begun. The Higher Power has come to display the sort of dominance that these people are to suspect. The Higher Power proved once again that at Turning Point, he’s the one person that can’t be impeded. His vengeance and powerful resurgence took this federation by force.

Morbid Angel.

What an elaborate ploy. A nice misdirection to think that we may be fighting, right? The only person who knew the Higher Power’s true identity was me and, at Turning Point, my Holy Father did nothing but impress. Morbid Angel and I did the unthinkable by duping The Senator and cashing in his briefcase to dub him the NEW Universal Champion. Remember me, Samuels? Yeah, may all the fucks be with you too.

A New Age is upon us. THE AGE OF THE ASYLUM! Defiance may run their mouths about how they’ve hindered or injured The Asylum, but boys? We’re hereeeeeee! The Asylum is for now, The Asylum is for tomorrow, THE ASYLUM is forever.

Gator, Justin Sane, and CorVus. Now Mr. corVus, your time is coming. You seem to have a little checklist in which you’re going down. By all means. Strap on your dark feathers and fly into the midnight abyss. Stalk in the shadows and watch as I claim all that I’ve earned. Watch from the sidelines. Just remember, I live for the shadows. Hide there if you wish, but relish in the fact that your presence is not a surprise merely a slight annoyance.

Justin Sane, welcome to hell friend. Provided a distraction from Alden, you obtained a victory over me. Cherish it for that pinfall shall be the last that you ever have over me. What is that Sane? Is that a streak of glistening sweat flowing from your temple? Anticipation must be killing you. Never knowing when that strike to take everything you hold most dear from you will be. Will it be in your next match? Your next title defense? Or will I wait patiently until we stand across the ring from each other. (scoffs) Not hardly. I’ll leave your abhorred name alone this time. For when we do stand eye-to-eye, your record shall be tarnished.

Gator. Bahahamahaha! You honestly think you’re going to beat Morbid Angel and leave that arena as champion? Let those wishful thoughts remain in your head. For when the clock strikes 12 and the end of the match draws near, just know that you asked for what happens. As for our encounter, it’s rapidly approaching, but before I can even dream of fighting you… there’s another piece of filth that must be exterminated.

Ooooh Loverrrrboyyyyyy! Welcome to The Asylum sir. You may have gotten some lucky blows on my friend Ghost Tank and ex-brother Mickey Manson, but don’t think that that shaving and little fun with Tank was the end of it. The fun… is just beginning. For next time we meet, it’s going to be…













Hysterical.



Bahahamahaha!