Chapter 2: Inside The TNA Asylum

He is not entirely sure where he is, he just knows that he has been there for the past few days.   He believes it to be a mental health facility of sorts.   The noises outside of his padded room seem to indicate as such.    Stripped of his costume, he is now clad in white, loose-fitting garb, resembling medical scrubs, or, perhaps, a prison uniform.   For the first time in months, he is without his mask, the face he has chosen to show the outside world.   In this padded room, the man once called Suicide sits, and waits.   Waiting for someone, anyone, to come in and tell him where he is, and how long he will remain.

For all of his questions, he at least knows why he is here… wherever ‘here’ is.   A few days ago, he came to a decision; a decision to act upon a thought that, in his own mind, would save those he valued from a corruptive force he believed was destroying them.   To eliminate a force of pure evil from the lives of all he has ever known.

In short, he tried to kill Hulk Hogan.   And, obviously, he failed.   Now, inside this undisclosed psychiatric hospital, Suicide waits.   Outside, he hears voices.   Familiar voices…

“So,” the one began, “who’s the loon?”

“Frank Kazarian,” the other replied.   His voice was distinctively gravely.   It would be rather hard to mistake him for someone else.   At that moment, Suicide knew at least one of the men outside of his door, the alleged Mental Health Expert of TNA, Stevie Richards.   “Seems he was the guy behind Suicide’s mask all along.”

“So it wasn’t Chris Daniels.   Shocking.”  The sarcasm dripped off these words from Stevie’s Companion like barbeque sauce off a spare rib.

“Damn it, Raven, can you at least PRETEND to take this seriously?” Stevie said to his long-time friend.

“All right, fine,” Raven grumbled.   “You were saying…?”

“Patient’s name is Frank Kazarian.   Claims his name is ‘Suicide’.   He was caught several days ago attempting to murder Hulk Hogan,” Dr. Stevie said.

“Did you say ‘Frank Kazarian’?   As in ‘Frankie Kazarian’? “ Raven asked.

“Yes,” Stevie replied.

“And he’s the guy who tried to off Hogan?” Raven continued.

“Yes,” Stevie answered.

“F*cking A!   Didn’t know ol’ Kaz had it in him,” Raven cheered.

“Wait,” Stevie paused, “You know him?!”

“Yeah,” Raven replied.   “I took him under my wing for a while, until he went all Perry Saturn on me.”

“You didn’t have anything to do with this ‘Suicide’ persona, did you?” Stevie asked Raven.

“Nah,” Raven said.   “The Suicide angle’s new.   I had nothing to do with that.”

“Too bad,” Stevie lamented.   “If you had, maybe you’d be able to find a way to turn it off.”

“Turn it off?!” Raven shouted.   “What for?!   He’s the dude that nearly offed Hogan, right?   If it were up to me, I’d let the guy go and finish the job!”

“Please tell me you’re joking, Raven,” Stevie groaned.

“Oh, come on!” Raven began.   “I’m not the only one thinking it, and you know it!   Ever since Hogan showed up, it’s been hell on earth in TNA!   First, he brings in Bischoff and the Nasty Boys.   Then he gets rid of the six-sided ring.   Then he gets rid of Alyssa Flash and Awesome Kong.   He hooks his boy Morgan up with the Tag Titles after mowing over US in, like, ten seconds.   Am I the only one who sees the writing on the wall, Stevie?   We’re next!   Get it?”

Stevie grabs Raven by the collar and shoves him against the wall violently.   “Yeah, I get it!   Why do you think I’m here right now?   Trying to save our jobs, just like I always do!   Or did you just forget how I put my neck out to get you back into TNA in the first place?   It’s ME, Raven.   Good ol’ Dr. Stevie, always there to clean up the mess!   So why don’t you just sit back, shut the hell up, and let me do what I came here to do so the both of us still have jobs tomorrow, okay?”

“Fine, sell your soul for a steady paycheck.   I don’t want any part of this.”   With those words, Raven left his long-time friend and companion behind, disgusted with Stevie’s choice of steady employment over his principals.

“Fine!” Stevie shouted back, disgusted with Raven’s attitude.   Sure, Raven can stand on his principals.   It’s easy to stand on your principals when you’re never forced to suffer the consequences of your actions.   Stevie knew better, though.   He understood the harsh reality of life – that, sometimes, one must swallow their pride and do what must be done in order to survive.   That standing on one’s principals’ means nothing if one dies of starvation and exposure.   But Stevie and Raven were different people walking different paths.  

Suicide understood this.   He too saw his friends and those he once respected fall prey to compromise.   Suicide, like Raven, made a choice long ago never to allow compromise.   To always stand on his beliefs and his principals, no matter what the consequence.   Instead, he was about to come face to face with the very type of person he had come to hate in life, the kind who fold on their beliefs for the supposed ‘greater good’, those who saw the words in shades of grey, rather than the black and white of pure morality.   And, with this, Suicide felt sick to his stomach.

The door of Suicide’s padded room opened, and Dr. Stevie poked his head inside.

“Hello, Frankie,” he said to Suicide.   As soon as he entered, Suicide puked.   The very notion of being locked inside a room with such a weak individual was too much for Suicide to take.   “Yeah, I know.   I’m not a big fan of the food here, either.”  

“It’s not the food,” Suicide replied.   Suicide knew what Stevie was doing here, attempting to diffuse a situation with humor, a shallow attempt to relate with Suicide’s involuntary incarceration.   He had seen this tactic used before.   Dixie Carter had used it the day the Dark Savior came into being.   He would never forget that.

“Oh,” Stevie said, closing the door behind him.   “Do you know where you are?”

Suicide does not answer.

“You’re in Bellevue Hospital.   In New York City.   Have you ever been to New York before?”

Suicide continues to sit in silence, staring at the wall, unwavering in his glance.

“Not much of a talker, I see,” Stevie sighs.   “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Tried to kill a rat,” Suicide said.   “Got caught.”

“Do you know why I’m here?” Stevie asked.

“They say I’m dangerous.   Insane,” Suicide answers.   “Send doctor.   Prove them right.”

“Who’s saying that about you, Frankie?” Stevie asked Suicide, approaching the Dark Savior slowly.   “Who is saying that you’re dangerous and insane?”

“You keep calling me ‘Frankie’.   I don’t like you,” Suicide stated, deflecting Stevie’s attempt to come off as sympathetic.

“Well, that is your name, isn’t it, Frankie?” Stevie asked, taking a seat on the padded floor face to face with Suicide.

“No,” Suicide answered.   “Frank Kazarian is dead.   Has been for some time now.”

Dr. Stevie reached into his leather portfolio and pulled out a series of documents, among which was a wedding certificate.  

“Well,” Stevie began, looking at the wedding certificate, “according to this, not only is Frankie Kazarian alive and well, he recently got married to one Traci Brooks.   You know Traci Brooks, don’t you, Frankie?”

Suicide refused to respond.

“Okay…” Stevie conceded, realizing the futility of his inquiry.   “Perhaps you’d like to tell me more about yourself.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Suicide replied.

“Well, that’s going to be a problem,” Stevie began, “because, you see, I’m the guy that’s supposed to determine where you go from here, and if I can’t get you to talk to me, I’m afraid you may end up spending the rest of your life in a room, just like this, away from your friends, your family… your wife.   And I’m sure a newlywed like yourself has just got to be crawling up the walls, not being able to spend any quality time with the woman he loves.”

“You really believe they’ll let me go free?  With what I did?” Suicide asked in a solemn voice.

“You never know, Frankie,” Stevie said.   “Given your condition, you could easily be out in only a few months.   Weeks, even.   If you’re cooperative.   And with the right medication.”

“Medication…” Suicide muttered.   “The solution to all of your problems.   Drug me up so I fall in line.   Just like AJ.”

“AJ?   You mean AJ Styles?” Stevie asked.

“AJ was the first to fall,” Suicide began.   “January 4.   Hogan comes in.   Brings all of his friends.   Bribes some, replaces others, outright eliminates others still.   They got to AJ.   Bribed Morgan and Hernandez.   Distracted Daniels, Dinero, even Abyss.   Eliminated Flash and the six-sided ring.   What dies next?   The X-Division?   The Knockouts?   I heard Awesome Kong’s been released.   Got in a fight with Bubba the Love Sponge, so Hogan gave her the axe.   Is that how it works now?   Hall and Waltman run amok.   Nasty Boys use TNA as their toilet.   Kennedy, Kennedy… or Anderson… whatever his name is now, pretends not to phone it in.   And for what?   Ratings?   People don’t tune in to wrestling shows to watch people act like jackasses.   They tune in to watch wrestling.   Characters and stories, a morality play in the guise of competitive sports.   But no one gets it, even now.   Dixie Carter thinks this is how she will become the next Vince McMahon, but she might as well be Uwe Boll .   None of it matters.   It’s all for the glorification of Hogan and Bischoff.   No one else.   Not Dixie.   Not TNA.   No one at all.”

“You believe Hulk Hogan is trying to destroy TNA?” Stevie asked.

“Believe?   No.   Know.   Hogan is evil.   Evil must be punished,” Suicide confirmed.

“And you believe you’re the one who must punish him, right?” Stevie asked.

“No one else can.   No one else will,” Suicide said.   “Only me.   Only Suicide.”

“So,” Stevie began, “what about Frankie?   What about his friends?   His wife?   Does Frankie have to live with the consequences of Suicide’s actions?”

“Frank Kazarian is dead, doctor,” Suicide repeated.   “Died the day Dixie Carter decided a video game character was worth more to her than a human life.”

“Seems to me that you’re angry, Frankie,” Stevie concluded.   “Do you hate being Suicide, Frankie?”

“You keep calling me ‘Frankie’,” Suicide said.

“Suicide, I want to talk to Frankie.   Can I please talk to Frankie?” Stevie asked.

“There is no ‘Frankie’.   Frank Kazarian is dead,” Suicide said.   “I am Suicide.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Stevie said calmly.   “And I bet Frankie’s wife will be sad to hear that, as well.”

“Why keep bringing her up?” Suicide asked.   “Keep calling me Frankie.   Keep bringing up his wife.   Why?   You believe I had anything to do with his demise? ”

“Well,” Stevie said, “I think it’s relevant to what’s going on right now.   After all, she is your wife, Frankie, and she’s worried about you.   We’re all worried about you.”

“Fine, doctor,” Suicide conceded.   “Say you’re right.   I am Frank Kazarian.   Dixie Carter didn’t hand him a mask and a pink slip in 2008, tell him to make a choice, put the gun in his hand, then make him pull the trigger.   Suicide has just been a figment of some game designer’s imagination, and the Dark Savior is not sitting here, now, with you, in a padded room in Bellevue Hospital, watching TNA burn to ashes as Hogan and Bischoff play fiddles.   Say that my wife is worried about me.   That my friends are saying that I’m paranoid, that I do need help.   Say that all of this is an illusion… Do you believe for one second that any of that changes the fact that Hulk Hogan is anything but a cancerous tumor, slowly eating away at everything wrestling fans hold dear?”

“Frankie…” Stevie began.

“Answer me, Doctor,” Suicide barked.   “Does any of this change the fact that Hulk Hogan is evil?   Yes or no?”

“I think you’re projecting your anger over being forced to portray the Suicide character onto Hulk Hogan and Eric Bischoff,” Stevie answered.  

“I see,” Suicide said before lunging at Dr. Stevie, taking him by the throat, driving him to the floor.   Stevie gasped as Suicide began to choke the very life out of him.   Suddenly, a horde of large men rushed in to the padded room, pulling Suicide off of Dr. Stevie, attempting to restrain him.   “You’re just like the rest of the puppets in TNA!   You’re weak!   Too weak to stand up for what’s right!”

“I’m sorry, Frankie,” Dr. Stevie sighed.   “There’s nothing I can do for you, now.”   Turning to another doctor who had just entered the room, he said, “He’s too far gone for conventional treatment.   He needs to be committed… for all of our sakes.”  

As Dr. Stevie left the room, he heard screams of pain and threats of vengeance.   He tried his best to block them out, to let the words roll off of him like water, but he knew what he had just done.   He had just condemned Frankie Kazarian to die, locked in a mental institution, just as he was instructed to do by his masters at TNA.   And, while doing so may have just guaranteed him and Raven a continued existence within TNA Wrestling, he may have done so at the cost of no less than two souls this day.  

As he stepped into the elevator, he began to question what he had just done.   Should he have done what Raven suggested?   Let Frankie go and finish the job he started a few days before – the elimination of Hulk Hogan from TNA?   Could he have risked his job, his medical license, perhaps even his own life, and let Frankie do what even Stevie knew needed to be done?   Because, make no mistake, Hulk Hogan was indeed hell-bent on destroying everything about TNA and remaking it into his own image. Stevie knew that.   And he knew that the fans of TNA, the people who spent their hard-earned money supporting TNA these past eight years, were the ones who stood to lose the most, innocent victims of an ego war the likes of which had not been seen since the dying days of WCW.

As he reached the bottom floor, and the doors opened, Dr. Stevie saw a small crowd of people gathered in the lobby, circled around, comforting a crying woman.   Among them stood Christopher Daniels, Kazarian’s Best Man; Matt Bentley, his former tag team partner; and D’Angelo Dinero.   The woman looked up… Traci Brooks… and saw Dr. Stevie leaving the elevator.   She rushed up to him, followed by Daniels, Bentley, and Dinero.

“Is he okay, doctor?” Traci asked, barely able to hold back her fearful emotions.

Stevie paused.   He wasn’t sure what to say.

“Damn it, Stevie!   Raven told me you were going to see him!” Traci screamed, grabbing Stevie by his collar.

“Traci,” Daniels said, placing his hand on her shoulder.   “Calm down.”

Turning furiously to Chris, Traci screamed, “Calm down?!   My husband is up there, locked in a goddamned padded room, claiming to be a guy named Suicide, accused of attempted murder, and you expect me to CALM DOWN?!”

“Pope knows it’s hard, child,” D’Angelo inserted.   “I saw him a few days ago.   He was in bad shape, too, asking about AJ Styles…”

“Where the hell is he, anyway?!” Traci asked.   “AJ was one of Frankie’s best friends, and when he needs him most, he doesn’t even show up?!”

“It’s going to be okay, Traci,” Daniels said, hugging her.   “Dr. Stevie’s supposed to be one of the best psychiatrists in the world.   If there’s anyone who can help Frankie, it’s him.”   Daniels then looked Dr. Stevie directly in the eye and said, “Right, doc?”

“Well…” Stevie paused.   As he began to speak, everyone’s attention turned to him, including Traci, who could barely hold back her tears.   Stevie sighed and said, “I did what I could.   Unfortunately…”

As he said that, Traci broke down crying on Daniels’ shoulder.   Chris took her away from the scene, leaving Dr. Stevie with Bentley and the Pope.

“Level with me, Stevie,” Matt Bentley began.   “How bad is it?”

“Bad,” Stevie said.   “He’s convinced himself that he IS Suicide, and that Frank Kazarian died back in 2008. He also seems to blame Dixie Carter for his condition, and, as a result, has focused his anger on Hulk Hogan and Eric Bischoff.   He’s not going to be getting out of here for a long time, I’m afraid.”

“Wow,” Matt said.   “How long has this been going on?   I mean, he seemed fine a couple weeks ago.”

“Delusions like this often manifest themselves in strange ways.   Sometimes, people are able to maintain the illusion of normalcy while leading secret lives behind the backs of everyone they know and care about.   They can even compartmentalize their differing lives, so much so that the one persona is almost completely unaware of the other,” Dr. Stevie explained.   He looked over to Traci, then back to Matt, and said to him, “I should probably go and talk to her.”

“Of course,” Matt said, allowing the doctor to take his leave.  

As Dr. Stevie sat down with Traci and Christopher Daniels to discuss the exact nature of Frankie’s condition, he saw Raven standing in the distance, staring a bullet directly into Stevie’s soul.   Stevie knew that look well.   A small reminder of the sin he committed against his own conscience this day, and the irreparable harm he has done to the Kazarian family… all for the prospect of steady employment.

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