The doctor’s dress shoes crisply tapped against the floor as he walked down the sterile hallway of the Greater Memphis Psychiatric Institute. His long, white coat whisked against his dress pants with each step.

The growls and screams of “patients” permeated through the steel doors and padded walls, but it didn’t phase him anymore. After spending years overseeing the most dangerous of the facility’s population, he strangely felt comfortable with the audible human misery.

Dr. Wallace Dean didn’t even glance at the cell doors anymore because he already knew the cold, agonized faces that were watching him make his rounds. He was completely detached to their collective state.

Behind Dr. Dean walked his two orderlies in blue medical scrubs. They were gigantic men who didn’t ask any questions when ordered; if a patient got out of line, the orderlies were more than capable at handling the matter.

When he reached the end of the hallway and opened the door, he met the man who had recently reached out to him.

“Mr. Meloche,” said the doctor, warmly.

“Dr. Dean,” replied Golden Pro Wrestling’s commission, Parker Meloche. “Thank you so much for having me. I can’t tell you how much I’ve anticipated stopping by.”

“Of course, sir,” Dr. Dean acknowledged. “I’m afraid I haven’t very much time this afternoon, so we’ll need to keep this brief.”

The door loudly shut and locked behind Parker Meloche has he entered the hallway.

“Please, walk with me,” said Dr. Dean, gesturing down toward the cells as they began to walk slowly. “As you know, I have a fine selection of potential combatants for your enterprise. And for the right price, I’m willing to arrange work-release opportunities for them at your events.”

Commissioner Meloche nervously eyed some of the patients who were staring through their cell door windows back at him, perhaps second guessing the arrangement being struck. However, he felt better with the two large orderlies escorting them.

To the point thought Dr. Dean, hoping to overtake any nerves on the part of the GPW businessman.

“While I can make the necessary paperwork, my expectation is two-fold,” Dr. Dean explained. “I expect financial compensation in line with what has already been offered.”

“Yes, of course,” Parker Meloche said. “And what is the other part of the agreement? You made no mention of it on the phone.”

“I want the opportunity to compete for all expected rewards of that which a champion receives.”

The two men stopped walking.

“You want to… wrestle?” Commissioner Meloche asked.

“Yes,” Dr. Dean answered. “I’m able bodied, and admittedly looking for an avenue to exert some energy. You’ll find that I’m quite ready for the task… I’m not that old yet. Besides, as the supervising doctor, I’ll need to be overseeing patients on temporary release.”

Commissioner Meloche considered it and ultimately nodded.

“Then who do you have for me, Dr. Dean?”

The doctor once again smiled warmly.

“I have two in particular that might suit your needs,” replied the doctor, gesturing to a specific cell.

Commissioner Meloche peered in through the thin door window and saw within a specimen of a man. With unkempt brown hair, a deranged distant look, and immeasurable physical strength, this patient was considerably intimidating.

“This is Abel,” Dr. Dean explained. “Quite tranquil and obedient when medicated. However, he is also prone to fits of productive rage when channeled properly. I will be providing him quite direct oversight as he supports me on my new venture with you.”

“I see,” said Commissioner Meloche cautiously. “And your other candidate?”

Dr. Dean led them down a few more doors and let the Golden Pro Wrestling commission look through the door window.

“It’s best I do not tell you his name,” Dr. Dean whispered. “There is a certain notoriety behind the events that led him to me.”

Inside the cell sat a man with a terrible, twisted face. He stared back with his dark eyes, which betrayed no emotion and seemed to suck the energy out of those who looked into them.

After a moment, Commissioner Meloche turned back to the doctor.

“Okay,” Golden Pro Wrestler’s commissioner agreed. “I’m building out a roster, and I need bodies. Period. My staff will be in touch with you to iron out the work-release details.”

The commission paused briefly in thought.

“And these two big gentlemen you have working with you,” Commissioner Meloche continued. “Would they want a piece of the action?”

Dr. Dean looked back at his men and smiled, while the two orderlies sneered back.

“Orderly Caruso and Orderly Summers will already be on hand to manage the patients, so why shouldn’t they get to have some fun, too?” asked Dr. Dean, rhetorically.

The two men shook hands and Dr. Dean ushered Commissioner Meloche back to the hallway’s doors to escort him out. When the doors closed behind the commission, Dr. Dean smiled warmly to himself.

This was going to be quite interesting.