We cold open on Engy driving a car, cruising down the highway at a respectable but legal rate of speed. After all, it wouldn't do to get pulled over and have to deal with “piggy shit” when he has such important work to be done. And what work is that you may ask?

Why, getting to know the real Peter Gilmour of course! Engy replies directly to the narrator's query. No, really! I mean, now that Peter's finally spoken up/planted his hoof firmly in his mouth, I truly do feel a pressing desire to get to know this living, breathing pratfall of a human being a little bit better. Sooooo, we're off tooooo.....!

The shot jump cuts very abruptly. This time, Engy is standing next to a “Welcome to Los Angeles, California” sign. He gestures to it theatrically. Lovely Los Angeles, California! Where the only thing faker than the people, are the tits! How appropriate that this is Peter's home town though. He's been faking being a decent wrestler and entertainer his whole life. So here's the skinny, folks. I've lined up a series of interviews with people who know the REAL Peter. The Peter that existed before the XWF. So follow me on this journey into the mind of a sentient ball of misplaced superiority. Or, do something more productive like get your asshole bleached.

One more hard cut later and we see The Engineer seated in a kindergarden classroom. Engy is awkwardly perched in a tiny little chair at a table that's child sized. Across from him is a middle aged woman. Engy has a reporter's style notebook open in front of him, pen in hand and poised to capture the vital insight that is sure to come spilling out of this woman's mouth. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me Ms. Carlson. I understand you were Peter's Kindergarden teacher when he was 4 years old.

Ms. Carlson shoots a glance at the camera, looking a tad nervous. I was actually his kindergarden teacher until he was seven. Are you filming everything I'm about to say?

Yes, but I assure you we'll edit out your image and all identifying information in post production.

Whoops.

Ms. Carlson visibly relaxes, settling back in her seat. Ok, if so then yes, yes we can discuss Peter Gilmour. It's just I....look, I've never done this before.

Engy reaches across the table and cups Ms. Carlson's hand in his, a bizarrely tender gesture that doesn't seem to immediately repel the woman. Engy allows a warm smile to crease his face. Understood completely! But remember, this information will be used to get Peter the help he needs. So tell me, when did you first begin to suspect Peter was.... “different”?

The woman makes an expression suggesting she's having some difficulty. Oh my goodness, it's so hard to remember it all...to take it all in, you know? But the one moment that sticks out in my head the most is, one day Peter was taking an unusually long time in the bathroom. Not all that unusual for him because even at that age he was a chronic masturbator. But this was a VERY long time. So I went to check on him and what I found....Oh God, I'll never forget.....

Engy squeezes her hand. It's ok, I'm here.

The teacher steels herself. Feces. Feces everywhere. Peter had produced more feces than I could have ever imagined a child that age could produce and just smeared it EVERYWHERE. And the most disturbing thing of all was that, when we scolded him for it, he looked at us with this pouty expression and, and I will NEVER forget this, said “I don't get enough respect around here.” It was like he honestly believed that he deserved to be respected and admired for stinking the whole place up. Like simply producing shit, pardon my French, warranted him getting some kind of award. I mean, who THINKS like that?!

Engy nods in a sagacious and understanding fashion. It's part of his sickness. Even now that he's a big fat manlet. Now, you said something about pictures?

Ms. Carlson reaches for something just below the table, and brings up a file folder. She opens it, withdrawing a stack of children's drawings. Yes, the district decided to keep them as examples for new teachers. Kind of a “if you see things like this, get the child help immediately” kind of thing. She spreads the pictures out on the table. Each and every single one is a crude drawing of a child with an enormous penis. It was an obsession with him. Super Dick. We thought maybe he was being abused, you know? Kids that have this fixation at such an early age, it's usually a sign. But we called CPS numerous times, and they never found any evidence. It didn't make sense until one day, Peter streaked through the hallway. Naked as a jay bird. Had no idea why he did it. But then...we got it. Why he was so fixated on SUPER DICK.

Mmmmm. He had a very tiny penis, didn't he?

The woman looks aghast. No! It was...it was FREAKISH! ENORMOUS! Like someone had taken a baby elephants trunk and fused it to his body, and the trunk was carrying a basketball at the end. I still can't get the sight of it out of my head! CIRCUS HUGE!

Engy nods again. Certainly too big to ever....you know?

The woman starts to cry. She brings forth a hankie and starts dabbing her eyes. Oh I can't even imagine what it must be like to go through that...to suffer like that. Do you really think this information you're collecting about Peter can be used to fix him, to get him to stop doing all those awful things to children with his super dick?

Engy sits back in his tiny seat, drawing in a deep measured breath and frowning. Probably not. He's probably going to end up being executed.

The shot cuts quickly again. This time the camera is over Engy's shoulder as he runs across the street towards an older man trimming his hedges. Engy's holding a mic out in front of him. SIR! SIR! I understand you were Peter Gilmour's neighbor! Can you tell me anything about him?

The man looks up with disgust. WHY?! Is he jerking off in my plants again?!

Engy stops short and lets out a chortle of laughter. **SNNNRRKKKTTT** Wait, WHAT?!

The man pulls away from Engy. I have nothing to say about Peter Gilmour! Do you know how many of my plants he killed with that accursed SUPER DICK of his?! Jesus, it was like an broke necked anaconda that always looked left.

Actually, I heard baby elephant trunk but that one's pretty good too.

The man stomps back up to his house and slams the door. Engy turns towards the camera making an exaggerated “oops” face.

The shot cuts again, this time we're outside an apartment where a fat woman is standing in the doorway, looking right pissed off. PETER GAVE ME HERPES! She slams the door in Engy's face.

The shot cuts again to another fat woman. PETER GAVE ME CRABS! SLAM!

Another door. Another fat chick. PETER GAVE ME DIARRHEA FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE! SLAM!

Later

Engy's back in the car. He's parked at a burger joint, day having long turned to night. He's got his shoes kicked off and he's hanging his feet outside the window, munching on a late dinner. He takes a moment to swallow his bite before speaking. Damn Peter, it seems like everybody OUTSIDE the XWF hates you just as much as everyone INSIDE the XWF does. But I gotta hand it to you, you actually DO have a freakish Super Dick. And a penchant for chunky broads. Go figure. He takes another bite, and this time doesn't wait to stop chewing before speaking, causing some food splatter to hit the camera. I'm starting to appreciate just what a miracle it was that you found anyone willing to team with you.

But hey Pete, ya finally made it to the dance. But in typical Peter Gilmour fashion it wasn't without a metric shit ton of excuses. “Ohhhhh, my anxiety! Ohhhhh, my life is so hard I can't sit in front of a camera and talk. Ohhhhhhh!”

What. A. BITCH!

Peter, ask anybody. Ask my psychiatrist. Ask Madison. This? He points to his head. It's like the whole fucking DSM-V in here. Google that. You think you got problems? I spent most of my life in a state of dissociative fugue. But I still get my ass up and in front of a camera without pissing and moaning.

Don't get me wrong Peter. Your promo didn't disappoint. There would have had to have been an expectation of quality to do that. And “quality” you ain't! Did you seriously bust out a “NOT!” joke? What is this some early 90's buddy comedy? It makes sense though, considering where your arrested development left you off, that time period would be your most immediate frame of reference.

Engy stops chewing to chuckle to himself. He puts the sandwich down, crosses his eyes and blurts out in a mockery of Gilmour's accent, Peter Gilmour is a smart and capable human being...NOT! Psssshhhhhhh...fuck's sake. He throws his hands up and forces himself to stop laughing. Let's talk about what I did to you and Maria too, because that was hands down some of the funniest shit I've ever done. I had no idea it was going to end up being such good television though. That sight of you busting out that level strength to save your woman? Good on you. But I can't help but wonder why I never caught any shit from you after that? I mean, Jesus man, I tried to kill the love of your life! You'd think there would be some blow back. But nope. Not from Peter. Is that just laziness Pete, or that massive comedy dick of yours inverting into a big ol' PUSSY?

And while we're on the topic of things you don't get nearly as often as you claim, you wanna try to play the “Engy's a pussy” card on me? Saying I never defended the Xtreme championship against you? Engy looks absolutely goddamn incredulous. Ladies and gents....WE HAVE REACHED PEAK GILMOUR! You schmuck stain, you literally just bitched about me fucking with Maria in our death match for like 5 straight minutes only to, in the very next breath, claim I never put the Xtreme on the line against you?! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK THAT MATCH WAS?! Is it CRIMINAL yet to be as stupid as you? I need to talk to Pence about this STAT!

As for my son, and he actually is my SON, which you would know if you dropped your crippling self absorption long enough to have a look around every once in a blue. Yes, he is brand spankin' new. So you have every right to not give a shit who he is. It's his first match. And he hates me and wants me to die. But you know what? He's STILL going to be a more capable partner than you. Is your mystery guy getting pissed at the sheer lack of fucks you give about this match yet? I would be. I mean, by all rights, this shit should be gift wrapped for you two. Here I am, down two former partners in a row, reaching out to a kid who hasn't wrestled a match AND wouldn't bark a loogie on me if I was on fire, all the while I got people knocking down my door for the Universal Championship. I, by all rights, SHOULD lose this. But the fact that you're treating this as an afterthought because your “demons” are acting up (and making this dangerously close to being the most humiliating loss of BOTH your careers) might just make you the absolute WORST partner of all time. You are SCREWING the POOCH, Peter. HARD!

Engy pulls his feet down in from the window. He sits cross legged in the passenger seat now, and a wry smirk crosses his features. But here's where things get interesting. Because, I'm starting to think a very rare event has just transpired.

I think I may have been wrong.

Peter, you and your partner have both let slip some pretty interesting hints as to who “the man in black” really is. Granted, some of it was contradictory. You claiming you “checked” to make sure your boy was an XWF all time Top 10'er, all the while he backtracked and now claims he's not quite there, but somewhere in the ballpark. I'm gonna go with the mystery guy on this one because Pete, you can't lie for shit and I wouldn't even trust you to “check” your own moobs for breast cancer.

Oh ho, HO! But YOU, mystery guy! You dirty rascal! Engy wags his finger playfully at the camera. I think I'm wrong. I don't think you're Reno. Look, I'll admit, I said last time that I wanted it to be Reno. But now....now....

Engy leans in to the camera, eyes blazing, ferocious...and then just BLACK.

I really do think I want it to be you. Top 50, but not Top 10. But you said I DETEST you. Detest. That's a GREAT word, a HELLUVA word! I LOVE THAT WORD. I have it bookmarked in my T-H-E-S-A-U-R-U-S.

Top 50, but not Top 10. Who, amongst that lower 40 lot do I detest? Honestly, not fucking many, considering I don't know who most of 'em are. I mean, I hate Peter, but it ain't him. Who else we got, who do I even KNOW?

Luca? Nah, definitely don't detest him. I think the little fruit's pretty funny actually.

Trax? More the other way around, after I beat him in KOTR and divested him of the Xtreme championship.

Guppy? Hmmmm, my one and only loss. But somehow, don't detest the guy. And actually, he did me a solid during KOTR. Not him.

ROBBIE BOURBON! Now this is an interesting one! But yet again, a case of the hatred maybe going the other way around. I don't hate Robbie. And I don't think he's my man.

Graves? Pulling the old switcheroo? Pretty epic if true, but I don't detest him either.

Chris Chaos? Okay, got me here. HATE THIS LITTLE SHIT! But I'm starting to think you got some more gravitas than Chris Chaos could ever hope for. Marginally better on the stick too.

Jim Caedus? **Sigh** If only.

Engy shoots the camera a sideways glance. Those dark eyes shimmer, the spine tingling smile gets wider.

Oh, but this is fun, isn't it? In fact, you may have noticed I forgot a couple names, now didn't I? Now just who might those names be? Why, naught but ROYALTY of course.

John Samuels. The former king I slaughtered on pay-per-view. The man who literally dunked my head in shit. Oh, how I HATED this rat FUCK who couldn't even be bothered to give me a decent match before he pissed off. Ohhhhh John, could it really be you? Are you coming back to play with me? Hopefully you put up more of a fight this time....

...oh.

Engy stops short. His head tilts a bit, ear upraised like he's listening to something....someone, chittering vile nothings in his ear.

Family.

He speaks the word aloud. Softly.

Family....family.....family.....

Rolling it around in his mouth. Black ichor slips unbidden between his lips and he lets it fall to paint his pant leg.

There is one more option of course. And now that I sit here, and think on it...it's the best possible of all options. And it's the one I pray to all the angels in heaven and the devils below is true.

Engy's expression takes on a dreamy quality.

I can still remember what it felt like you know. My hand wrapped all up in that pretty hair. Fear, when it's that intense, it's PUNGENT, ya know? It has an aroma. And I could smell it on her. She was so confused. Had no idea why I was there, or what I wanted. The real pisser was it truly had nothing to do with her.

But it had EVERYTHING to do with you and the people you chose to associate with.

And that's how this all started, right? You and your ilk, thinking I was undeserving. Thinking I was good, but not good enough to stand amongst GODS like yourselves. Maybe even a little bit HUMILIATED that, forever and ever more, my name would be listed right alongside yours as a KING.

But I digress, let's talk about your woman. Let's talk about how I told that bitch that what I was about to do to her was because of her husband's EGO. Do you think she ever forgot, hmm? Do you think that maybe a small part of her always had that niggling notion in the back of her head, blaming you? RESENTING you, for bringing that public humiliation down around her head?

Did she stop FUCKING you after that?

Engy stares straight ahead, the dreamy miasma gone and replaced with a withering death stare.

How long was it? A week? Two? Ten? How long before you got that strange again? Or maybe it was you. Maybe you held back because, real or not, you could still smell the SHIT on her.

Oh baby, is it you? Please tell me it's you. I mean hell Peter, could you, for once in your life, have given birth to something this BEAUTIFUL?

I want you in all forms and permutations. If you're back, like for really-real back, it doesn't have to stop here with this tag match. You think I wanna duck you? You think I don't want this? Fuck Finn Kuhn. Fuck James Raven. Fuck Bobby Main.

Baby, we got so much unfinished business.

He draws his face closer to the camera, closer, then closer still, until all you can see is one endless black abyss of an eyeball.

Are you there, Theo? It's me, Engy.

END.