Decade uncomfortably followed Dr. Dean down the hallway of the Greater Memphis Psychiatric Institute. The self-assured doctor’s white medical coat draped and flowed in front of the young Canadian wrestler.

Shifting his gaze from side to side, Decade could see the twisted, haunting faces of the insane asylum’s patients through the windows of their cells.

“Now, unlike others in my profession, I actually do not mind the term ‘insane asylum,’” Dr. Dean mused to himself. “While society errantly moved away from such mass involuntary non-punitive medical incarcerations, I think there is still much to be admired from such a system.”

Decade wondered what he had gotten himself into. He had reached out to Dr. Dean to help him with his violent alter ego and now found himself inside an actual insane asylum. However, he didn’t plan to stay here.

“But don’t you worry, my young patient,” the doctor continued. “With my treatment plan for you, you won’t be taking up residency with me.”

“Then why did you bring me?” asked Decade as he followed Dr. Dean down the hallway.

Dr. Dean suddenly stopped at a particular cell door and grinned back at Decade. With a look of self-satisfaction, Dr. Dean pointed toward the window and encouraged Decade to look for himself.

Decade stepped forward and peered into the dimly lit cell. It was small and cramped, and Decade could smell the rot of an unkempt body.

Then he saw him.

On the bed lay the infamous wrestler named Sicko, who remained calmy relaxed with his hands on his stomach.

“Why did you bring me here to see Sicko?” asked Decade.

Dr. Dean stepped forward and looked through the window with him.

“Sicko was once a young man named Steven Albright,” Dr. Dean explained. “Years back he was brought into my care after making deranged statements about hurting his family, and a long history of mental episodes. I was his family’s only hope. I was society’s only hope.”

Decade continued to watch Sicko inside the cell as Dr. Dean continued.

“Of course, I cured young Steven as well as I could, and I’m proud to say that while still dangerous and in need of my ongoing care, he’s a contributing member to society.”

“I’m confused. He’s stuck in an insane asylum and generally feared by the GPW roster and fans alike,” Decade responded.

“Yes, that is one way to look at it,” Dr. Dean admitted. “However, his performances entertain and delight an ambivalent, uneducated society. There must be something to say for that.”

“I suppose so,” Decade replied. “But still, why bring me here?”

Dr. Dean stepped back and casually pulled Decade’s attention from the cell into a face-to-face moment.

“At Gold Strike 24, I would like you to spend the evening following Sicko through his action when he will be defending his Golden Pro Wrestling Hardcore Championship. You’ll see the power of my treatments and be reassured that I can help even the worst of society enjoy a fulfilling life.”

This struck a chord with Decade. After watching Dr. Dean lose to King Crab Mack, Decade had felt a little underwhelmed with Dr. Dean’s leadership.

“Okay, Dr. Dean… I trust you.”

“Excellent,” Dr. Dean replied with a nefarious grin.

Decade took one last look over to the cell window and immediately jumped back startled.

Sicko’s face was now at the window staring back at him with cold, dead eyes.