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I sat in the back of the yellow cab, watching the promo's from both D'Ville and Soldier on my Samsung Tablet. I look up to see the cab driver occasionally looking at me in the rear mirror, I continued to listen to my opponents words. The cab driver probably wondered why I wore this mask, probably thought I was into some weird sexual fetish or something. I arrived at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport about fifteen minutes ago, I jumped the cab to pay a visit to someone I needed to see. He lived in Alexandria, Virginia and he wasn't expecting me, he was going to receive a suprise visit. I look out the window at a couple of dog walkers and a jogger as I pass by them in the street, the neighbourhood seemed pretty nice and the houses seemed quite smart. A lot nicer than what I was used too. The cab slowly pulls over and stops outside a big "Yellow House" with a poster of the president himself. This must be it? I pay the driver the fare and get out of the cab. I stretch my legs, the cabbie drives away and I cross the street. I walk up the pavement towards the house and stop outside the front door, I ring the door bell and wait... And wait... What's taking so long? How long do I have to wait? Maybe no ones in? I turn to step away, feeling like I've waited long enough and a wasted journey.

The door opens, a little old lady with grey hair and spectacles stands there. A slow, slighty high pitched voice greets me, Little Old Lady: How may I help you, young man? I politely reply to her, Arby: I'm here to see Robbie. She knows exactly who I mean, Little Old Lady: Oh, Robert. Please follow me, I'm his grandma and personal assistant.

I can't believe what I'm hearing but she didn't seem to mind. I questioned her position, Arby: Personal assistant? Grandma Bourbon replies swiftly, Grandma Bourbon: He pays me well, he brought me this house. Even so, I still can't believe Robbies nan is running errands for him. I follow behind the frail old lady who escorts me down the hallway and we stop outside a black, painted door with a plaque stating, "Robbies Office." She knocks the door. Robbie shouts from inside, Robbie: GRANDMA! DID YOU GET ME MY YOO-HOO AND THE GOOD BEEF JERKY???

Beef? Yes. Jerk? Well, no. He sounded so demanding as I look at his Grandma in front of me, Grandma Bourbon: No dear, I haven't managed to get to the grocery store yet. I missed the bus. All I can think is why doesn't Robbie go his bloody self instead of asking his old granny to do it.

Robbie: Damn it! Look, I know you love running errands and shit, keeps you spry or some such. I know you won't let the Alzheimers or dementia get you down, and back when you were a USO dancing girl and greatest spy in the world you wouldn't have forgotten the bus schedule. Seriously, you single handedly kept the world power balance, uh, balanced, then blamed it in your neighbors, the Rosenbergs. Do I have to set your watch to 40's time again?

Robbie looks past his grandma and sees none other than me, Arby Beef. Robbie: Well, damn. Robbie squints, Robbie: You smell familiar...

I wonder why he is sniffing me? Like he recognises my scent? I reply to Robbie with confidence, Arby: It is I.. The Arby One, the Beefeater, I am here for duty, sir. I turn to watch the sad face of Grandma Bourbon after being told off, she slowly walks past me and looks at a picture on the wall.

Robbie belches, which I find a little gross, Robbie: Look, I don't know where you come from, but you gotta know we're going to Ireland for probably the most brutal match-up on Irish soil since Michael Collins was cooking up soirees in Dublin.

Robbie turns to his Grandma, and pats her on the back. Robbie: There you go, tiger, you still got that pep in your step. Robbie's Grandma spins with the grace of a ballet dance and flips him off, muttering to herself. Robbie then looks at me, Robbie: So, uh, you want to come in, get acquainted? I'm a little weirded out you found me through my grandmother, and are claiming to be someone who I didn't even know was real, maybe we can grab a coffee? You gotta check out my grandma's basement, where I stay.

I look at Robbie Bourbon who had just invited me into his grandma's basement. I guess if we're going to be a team then we need to act like one, Arby: Yeah why the hell not?! I follow behind Robbie who escorts me towards his Grandma's basement. Arby: So Roberto, are you going to get your grandma to make the coffee? Or you gonna make it your freaking self?

Maybe I was a little sarcastic but if I have something on my mind, I had to ask. Robbie: What? Nah. You never heard of the dojo? I picked you for a fanboy looking to get his jollies, but... Robbie sniffs the air and says for the second time, Robbie: You smell familiar.

Maybe he liked the smell of Joop? Robbie leads us down a set of stairs and we are privy to the Robbie Bourbon Dojo for the Competitive Arts, either completely built out of his Grandma's basement or just a convenient place to keep his grandma, the world may never know. Robbie heads to a fully functional Dunkin Donuts. I am suprised by this, it is pretty cool.

Robbie: I'll take a large iced coffee, black. What do you want, Mr. Beef?

He sniffs me for the third time, I look at Bourbon, I'm getting a little annoyed with all this sniffing. Arby: I smell familiar? We are not dogs, Bourbon, there is no need to keep sniffing me. Bourbon raises his eyebrows at me. Arby: Coffee, white with two sugars please. Wouldn't mind a custard donut too?

Robbie nods at the cashier, who sets to task of getting the coffee and donut. He turns.

Robbie: Look, let's be blunt, this here is the XWF, I have no clue if you want to really go out and wrestle or just rape my grandma with a jar of grape jelly. I have half a dozen cameras on you, a team of analysts watching your every movement for clues to past injuries, like if you favor a leg or have some oddball twitch in your left ring finger. You've been here long enough to have left some DNA for me to analyze, and the more we talk, the better we operate, but I don't know if it's your aftershave or your shampoo or just your feet, something about you makes it feel like I don't really need to be that on edge. Here.

Robbie unbuckles one of the tag team championship belts around his waist and hands it over. I take the XWF Tag-team championship from Robbie and look at it in all it's glory. I admire the logo, the stunning, shiny gold with all the details embroidered in it. I place the title over my shoulder and look at Robbie.

Arby: Wow, the title is amazing. Don't you worry about my identity, I'm just a young gun trying to succeed like yourself. You have given me the gift of holding the tag titles with you and I won't let you down. The odds are stacked against us, everyone believes we will lose the tag titles. Well those who bet against us are the real losers, they will lose their dollars.

Robbie rolls his eyes and laughs. Robbie: I'm no spring chicken. Heh, I dig your spirit. And yeah, the odds are against us, but that's my fault. I have a bad habit of seeing odds and thinking of them as bullies, just another asshole exploiting the downtrodden. Building off of the backs of others without breaking a sweat.

Robbie laughs again. He takes a brief sip as he realizes how bizarre the words coming out of his mouth sound, Robbie: I mean, here I am, just a man, same as you. For some ungodly reason, you decided to walk into hell with me, facing off against two of the most vaunted competitors in XWF history, both renowned for unparalleled violence and for resembling a pair of extras from Oz. Well, to be more relevant, extras from Orange is the New Black, which is a lot like Oz only it makes the prisoners seem way more likeable. Doc D'Ville has his huge tower, kind of like my grandma's basement, only my place doesn't look like a set peice from Repo! The Genetic Opera. I would've targeted that guy a lot earlier, he has every classic supervillain trait down to the tee and all, except he really doesn't ever do anything all that supervillainous really, so the people haven't really willed it.

Robbie looks down into his coffee. Averting eye contact, he almost wants to avoid whatever reaction could come. Robbie: I'm just a bum, dude. A ham. The village idiot spewing whimsical fuckery, all for the people. People want to feel empowered, people want to feel valuable. People want to feel like they're something special when their football team wins a hundred miles away when they see it on their TV. People want to hold some kind of control in their maelstrom of a life, get away from the grind of saying 'yes' or 'no', answering to others who could give a shit less if it were them or a robot providing whatever answers they needed. People need to feel bigger, and better, lest their spirits get crushed.

Robbie looks up from his coffee. The intensity in his eyes and the grim way his lips are pursed is almost in contradiction to the vibrant donut shop surrounded by a wrestling/cooking school.

Robbie: There is nothing worse than a human with a broken spirit. We're going to Ireland to face off against two people who need to bolster their spirits, true, but there is no glory for us if we win. Simply put, after all is said and done, when the blood gets mopped up and our bones get reset, the people will be able to hold their heads high, in joyful chorus they will revel at the fact that their humble servant stood down fear, death, destruction, no matter how certain. They will revel at the fact our opponents bead with sweat at our very heartbeat, because they do not understand what makes it beat. They will dance in the streets, hug their neighbors, and feel giddy, because their spirit, their hope, still lives. You took the difficult road, coming to see me, and by no means are you obligated to do any of this. I need to know, now, more than ever, are you willing to look past yourself, or us, and lay your ass on the line for people you will never meet, who will never regard you personally, all for their sake and the hope of a better world?

I sat through all of that and never said a word. Robbie likes to talk that's for sure. He asked me a question and it was up for me to answer it.

Arby: Well Robbie...I look at my coffee cup and decide to take a swig. Doing it for the world and all that, wasn't really me.

Arby: I'm not here to be liked, nor am I here for the people. I get it, you wanna do this for them, you want to be accepted. I couldn't give a fuck. I'm here for my love of wrestling, I'm here to prove doubters wrong and improve all the time. Facing two former XWF Universal Champions might be as they say, a big hurdle but I believe in myself. I believe in Bourbon Beef. Every Doctor and Soldier have there weak point, no one is perfect, no one is unbeatable. There is always someone out there tougher than you and maybe we are biting off more than we can chew, maybe it is too soon for us to be facing a team with their abilities. We have potential, we have passion, we have the will to succeed. You fight for the people, I fight to be the best.

Robbie smiles. Robbie: I don't know how accepted I'll ever be, brother, but that's the kind of answer I needed. Be the best, and you'll do more for the people than you give yourself credit for.

It appeared I had got something out of Robbie, before now I didn't think he believed we could actually achieve victory.

Arby: Do you remember when that wench beat D'ville? Whatever her name was. What was it? Robbie knew exactly I was on about and replies bluntly, Robbie: Alexis Riot.

Robbie takes another slug of coffee. Robbie: I was there for that. Upset of the century or some such.

Arby: Exactly. Who thought D'ville would lose? Nobody. Another one, do you remember when Ginger beat Gilmour? I didn't think that was going to happen, not that Ginger is crap but ya know.

Robbie: I get your point. Wait, I beat Ginger. What about Soldier. Robbie's eyes go wide. Robbie: You might be a double champion after your first televised match, my friend.

Arby: What do you mean? I didn't think if Soldier was pinned, he'd lose the XWF Xtreme Championship automatically? We can show the world that two top inviduals don't exactly make a great team. Bourbon Beef is a great team.

Robbie: The championship was...

Robbie blinks and shakes his head. Robbie: You're right. Fuck the Xtreme title for now. I've never swayed that way. You're right. D'Ville and Soldier are a great squad, but to be the XWF Tag Team Champions, you have to be a great team. The All-Star game is fun and all, but it sure doesn't make the World Series less important, you know?

Robbie gets up. Robbie: You're alright. Take a look around the dojo, I have to go give my grandmother some Extacy and a Vietnam flashback. I didn't really expect you coming over, but by all means, make yourself at home. Mi casa su casa. Don't press any of the purple buttons, they trigger crazy purple knockout gas, and the second sub-basement is off limits for now, I'll explain later, probably in another promo for another match when I need something really exciting or wacky. Meeting my imaginary friend is trippy enough.

Robbie starts walking back towards the stairs.

Robbie: GRANDMA! WE GOT VC EVERYWHERE, CHARLIE KILLED BILLY AND JOHNNY! I HAVE YOUR PILL AGAINST YELLOW FEVER!!!

I look down at my custard donut, I hadn't touched it yet, it sat on the plate whilst me and Robbie were deep in conversation. Although, he did talk alot, It appeared I got on with Robbie okay, better than I thought that's for sure. I lick my lips, I take a bite and enjoy the taste of the custard donut. I felt quite comfortable actually in President Bourbons company. I think we might just do well after all.

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