Back in Hollywood.

"Those lousy goons of mine!" The angry, old, Italian mafia leader growled to himself.

It was late at night in his dingy warehouse hideout, the only thing that dimly lit the room was that of the news. His four lead henchmen had just been caught at their latest heist and were arrested for attempted robbery and murder one.

"It is reported that the four of them will spend forty-five to life in San Quentin." The reporter was saying in the news station. "It's currently unknown what their motives are and who they're working for. But we believe that they are linked to the current gang wars raging in the city of Los Angeles. We will keep you updated when more information becomes available."

The mob boss turned off the TV angrily and threw the remote onto the couch as he used his cane to get up. "Darn them!" He growled again in his scratchy voice. "Perhaps it's time we broadened our territory." He began to think sinisterly, lighting another of his long cigarettes. "No gang currently owns San Quentin or the area so abouts, that gives us an ample chance to gain not only the upper ground but have the higher advantage."

Meanwhile.

Chris Jericho had been given the injection upon his attempt to escape Alcatrass, it had knocked him out so they could contain him. But they didn't put him in one of their cells, he had been thrown into the back of a patty wagon and shipped off. They drove all day down the freeway until the two cops and the drugged wrestler made it to their destination.

"Throw him in here." One said to another.

The second officer picked Chris's motionless body out of the truck and they dragged him past the heavily guarded gates. This was an active, legitimate prison unlike Alcatrass. "If we can't deal with him, let's see how the state does." The other officer said as they threw Chris into a prison cell and closed the door behind them, laughing coldly.

Later.

"Attention, attention. All inmates and staff report to the recreation deck immediately." The announcer said over the PA system.

Chris squeezed his eyes and opened them, giving him blurry vision. "Oh my head." He groaned as he sat up slowly. "Wha. where am I?" He couldn't remember a thing, 'What had happened?' The question raced around repeatedly in his head.

He looked around to get his bearings, the cell he was in was very small. He was on the bottom bunk and the one above him looked as if somebody had gotten up and didn't bother to make the bed. There was a dripping sink not even two feet from Chris's head and a dirty toilet next to that and above the top bunk there was a small barred window not even one foot, covered in a steel mesh screen. Penetration was impossible, and so were the living conditions of the cell.

"Hey you." Came a voice followed by a sharp metal clang that bounced off the small concrete walls of the cell and rang strait through Chris's ears. He tensed at the pain, turning around to see it was one of the officers banging his baton on the bars. "You heard the announcement, move your lazy but already!"

Chris moaned and got up, just getting fully back to normal after the chemical injection. The guard opened the door and led Chris down the many long halls, filled with empty cells. About five minutes later Chris could finally see the double open doors, which held the mid-morning daylight.

"And in agreements with our participation, you will have a free concert." The police chief was saying through a megaphone. The inmates all rooted and cheered.

"There you go." The officer shoved Chris forward. "Now get in there!"

Chris stumbled to his feet and began to panic but stopped. He could've sworn he'd just heard music. A guitar tuning, or was it just that the hot California sun was frying his brains already? The inmates all began to cheer and mosh among Chris, bouncing him around, as the beat, and Chris's confusion, grew.

"Welcome to San Quentin." A distant voice made Chris turn. A police guard was talking to a crowd. Chris felt hopeful, they were visitors. Maybe help was possible! "We have a no hostage policy, if you are held for trade by one of the inmates, we will not negotiate."

Chris looked around, he could hear the music, it was real! Chris shoved forward through the crowd until he got to the front, which was being held back by security officers. He gasped at what he saw, choking on the lump that rose in his throat. Metallica?!

Saint Anger round my neck, Saint Anger round my neck, He never gets respect, Saint Anger round my neck.

Chris was confused, what was going on? He looked around, was he seeing strait, there were cameras everywhere! He didn't get it, they were recording this, it was the St. Anger music video. He backed up through the moshing crowd until he bumped into a cop.

(You flush it out, you flush it out.) Saint Anger round my neck, (You flush it out, you flush it out.) He never gets respect. (You flush it out, you flush it out.) Saint Anger round my neck, (You flush it out, you flush it out.) He never gets respect.

Chris looked around at the inmates, they were all wearing orange jumpsuits. Chris gasped as he looked at himself, so was he! He ran off, pushing the officer aside.

"Hey!" He pulled his nightstick from his belt and began to chase after Chris.

It all and no regrets, I hit the lights on these dark sets. I need a voice to let myself, To let myself go free.

Chris stopped running, skidding to a halt as he came face to face with a dirty mirror on one of the white brick pillars. He gasped, looking frantically in fear at what he saw looking back at him in his reflection. His hair was all mangled and wild, he had an unshaven stubble beard forming, he had cuts and bruises all over him, around his neck he had the prison ID dog tags, and above all he was in the same orange jumpsuit.

I feel my world shake, Like an earthquake. It's hard to see clear, Is it me, is it real?

Chris could still hear the music. The heavy metal sound coming from Metallica began to feel his hatred rise. The deep beating drums fueled his heart rate, racing it with his anger. He turned around and bumped into the cop that had been chasing him.

I'm madly in anger with you! I'm madly in anger with you!

"Alright you, let's go." He held out a pair of shiny, silver handcuffs. Chris scowled, his rage had reached its boiling point and it was now ready to pour over. He took a shot at the cop, hitting him square on target with one fail blow. "Oh that's it!"

I'm madly in anger with you! I'm madly in anger with you!

The officer growled, throwing down the cuffs and attacked Chris back. They began to fight as the inmates by them began to circle around to watch. A nearby cameraman ran over to record it. The band, unaware of the fighting, kept on playing for the inmates.

It all and no regrets, I hit the lights on these dark sets. Medallion noose, I hang myself, Saint Anger round my neck.

The fight raged until Chris had the officer down and ready for the kill. Suddenly four inmates grabbed Chris and held him back as other cops tried to aid their fallen man. The two were separated and the fighting, and the song, all stopped at end.

Set it free!

"Hey you." The one big guy that held Jericho up set him down.

"Take it easy man." One of the small guys said as he approached Jericho.

"Wow, you really showed him." The skinny one laughed.

"Yea, way to take it to the man!" The second big one patted Jericho's back hard, it caused him to cough and gasp for air.

"Say, I've never seen you around here before." The tall, skinny one looked Jericho over. "So you're a new guy hu? What's your name?"

"My name's Chris and you can all get outta my face." Jericho snapped, waving them all aside.

"Whoa!" They all jumped back, holding up their arms.

"Hey, hey, hey, wait up." The same guy ran over and blocked Jericho's way, he was obviously the leader of the foursome. "We could use a man like you, you know."

"Oh yea?"

"Yea, you can help us stick it to the man up in here." The first big guy came over.

"Hm?" Jericho lifted an eyebrow, growing intrigued.

"Just think, you're a new guy here right? If they treated you like that now, just think what'll happen if you're stuck here for life." The small one explained. Jericho rubbed his jaw as he thank. "That's why we're busting out. If we're on the outside we can get back with our boss and formulate a plan worthy of revenge."

"Vengeance is pretty sweet." Jericho smirked.

"So what do you say? Will you join us? You're the perfect man for our team: strong, smart, fast, what more could the mafia want!" He began to laugh.

"Yea, what more could a mob gang want?" Jericho began to laugh along with him, a cold, sinister laugh that only evil would dare to show.

That night..

"So how do we bust out of this joint?" Jericho asked that night in his cell.

"Don't worry, you leave that to me." The big guy jumped off the top bunk and blocked the view into the cell.

"Now what?" Jericho asked the big guy threw him down a shovel.

"Hurry up and keep going." He warned, cautiously looking over his shoulder every so often.

"Right." Jericho nodded and began to dig.

It's been a long time since Jericho had done something that required so much physical activity, but he still had his strength and speed. He dug a masterful whole that tunneled to the larger cell on the other side. The other three henchmen were in there.

"Good work kid." The skinny one laughed as he patted Chris on the back.

"Now let's go, and be quiet." The big one whispered.

The five of them got in the whole, the two big guys went last after making sure the coast would be clear for enough time for them to make their clean getaway. It was a success. There was a previous tunnel already dug that led out of the penitentiary and lucky for the gang, one of them had heard the rumor and it was true. They ran off until they reached civilization.

"So where to now?" Chris asked. They'd all taken off their orange jumpsuits and were wearing shorts and two of them wore muscle shirts.

"We need to head back to the base."

"Where's that?"

"Back in LA."

"Good." Chris sneered.

They had managed to swipe somebody's wallet as they were walking down a sidewalk and bought five bus tickets to downtown Los Angeles. The next morning they were there and made their way to their headquarters of the abandoned factory. They went inside where their boss was waiting for them.

"So you managed to bust out without my help." He turned slowly, causing his cape to give an eerie wave in a non-existent breeze. "And who is this?"

"Hey boss, this is Chris." The skinny one said.

"Yea, we figured our team could use some new blood." One big one replied.

"And you should've seen this guy back there, he was great!" The second big one agreed.

"Well, what do you think?" The small one asked.

"Hm." The mob boss took his cigar out of his mouth and set it down on the ashtray. He walked over to Chris, looking him up and down. With his cane, he poked Chris in the stomach and tapped his arms and legs. "Yes, he is quite the gangster isn't he?" Naturally Chris would've shuddered at the word, but he took it in as a compliment and a new lifestyle. "So Chris, let's see now." Chris remained still and unmoving as the gang leader circle around, examining him very thoroughly. "Yes, you are perfect!" He laughed, his wrinkled old face smiling in excitement.

"Thanks." Chris smiled, the first time he'd spoken or moved since he'd got there.

"Now that we're all ready, we can go according to plan." The leader picked up his cigar and sat down in his red chair as he took a puff.

"What should we do now boss?" One henchman replied.

"Now we can assault with a full frontal attack. With Chris we have more power and the advantage." He began to unveil his plan. "As soon as we defeat the gang in control of the government center we will have the higher ground. So not only will we be the top gang in the city, but the county, the state, and even the country."

"How so?" Another asked.

"We will be in control, we will have the government officials as hostage." The mafia gangster explained. "We dominate LA, what other prize is there? All of America. There will be nothing in our way to stop us, so why should we hesitate?"

"Because we haven't had our dinner?" A big one asked, looking around for spaghetti.

"Don't you worry, we have plenty of noodles," The mobster looked up and paused before grinning as his awaiting gang. "And when we complete our mission, we will have all the Ragu pasta sauce we'd ever want or need."

"Yea!" The four jumped into the air. Not Chris though, he stood there standing, staring blankly forward. A big, cruel smirk appeared suddenly on his face as he laughed to himself. Now that he was allied with the lead power, he would be able to get his revenge.