The shot opens on Corey Smith, Lux's young counterpart and current skin sleeve, as he sits indian style in the middle of a ring at what looks to be a training center. He's drenched in sweat, his t-shirt is absolutely soaked through, his curly brown locks matted down. Poor kid looks like he was ridden hard and put away wet. With an exhausted groan, he pulls himself to his feet.

Why does Lux want me to die?

The camera pans over to reveal the shockingly sane offspring of decidedly less-than-sane former Universal Champion, The Engineer. Who is presently face down on the canvas.



You?! Joachim barks out, not even lifting his head. I'm the one who's been on the receiving end of....

SHHHHH! Corey holds a finger up to his lips. It's a secret! You will have to carry it to your grave. Or until Saturday. Whichever comes first.

Uggghhhhhh....being Lux's practice dummy sucks. Jo flops onto his back like a dying whale. Way funner when we just had sex. Hey, did you get that mole looked at?

Yeah no, and it would be great if you would stop reminding me I probably touched your wiener while Lux was pulling my strings. On second thought, we should be careful what we say around Boston Bruiser. He seems like the kind of uptight man's-man who gets really, really angry when Will and Grace comes on. Corey jerks his thumb back at the camera.

Ah, you know what they say about those. Jo shrugs from his home on the canvas. Anyway, I'm just gonna lie here until this stroke passes. Catch you later.

Later 'gator! Corey playfully waves goodbye to Joachim as he slowly exits the ring. Corey crosses the length of the gym. In the background there are more rings scattered about, their occupants practicing various different styles of mixed martial arts.

Hey BB, sorry I look like shit. But Lux has been putting my body through the paces, working on a little surprise for you. Turns out she's taking your request for an “I Quit” match seriously. So seriously, in fact, she's learning a whole new submission finishing move JUST FOR YOU. It's like early Christmas, except you might end up in traction.

You'll note this time that we're not gonna spend a whole lot of time on kickass action scenes, or chilling on the holodeck, because quite frankly you have provided us with such a bounty of self-abuse well, it would be damn near a sin to let it go to waste. So welcome to my inaugural PIG ROAST of the Boston Bruiser.

A loud SQUEEEEEEAAAAALLL is heard, followed by the following image.



Yeah that WAS a fat joke, but last one, I promise.

Now Lux, she likes things difficult. She likes a challenge. But me? Give me easy street, baby. And that's why I just love you, BB. I thought I had it good when Big D raided his “weekend” closet for us, but you're somehow making this shit EVEN EASIER. Case in point, I spent my whole last promo talking about what a mediocre white dude you were. You, in your infinite generosity, spent the last few days proving I was right on the money. Because you played the ultimate “insecure needle dicked fuck boi” card and decided to blame your glaring deficiencies on some gussied up accusation that Lux bribed the ref. Hmmmm...who else do we know who tries to distract people from their incompetence with nebulous, unfounded accusations of conspiracy?



Pretty much! And just like that guy, the only people who believe him are people with a chromosome to spare.

Absolutely no one believes Lux bribed that ref. No one. Not even people who can't stand her, like Sarah Lacklan or John Whyte, believe that shit. And do you know why? Because bribing a ref to try to get one over on you is a level of overkill on par with dropping a tactical nuke on a sand castle. Dude, contingency plans are only necessary when somebody's reasonably certain Plan A's gonna fall through. And considering that Plan A was dicking around with you a bit until your natural instincts to fuck up left you on your back , well....heh....let's just say Lux isn't a fan of flushing good money down the shitter.

By now, Corey is passing into the locker room. He reaches into his locker and pulls out a towel, which he uses to dry off his hair. He pulls his shirt up over his head and smells himself. Pew! I need a shower! You don't mind if I “2 birds, 1 stone” this thing and take it now, do you? I mean, I'm sure a guy as comfortable and certain of his sexuality as you won't mind me getting naked and enjoying the sensation of running water tracing a path down my nubile young flesh. Come on, dude! You can just pretend like it never happened later, like all those other times you caught sight of a fresh faced young lad that reminded you that yes, a wang still existed beneath that necrotic pannus you call a midsection. Corey punches the side of his fist against the locker. Shit! Fat joke! I've always been rubbish at keeping promises. Corey slips out of his skivvies (off camera, we're not going full perv), and walks over to the showers with his towel about his waist. He then steps in, removing the towel and placing it on a rack as the shot continues chest up.

Now while I lather up please have a look at this message from one of our sponsors! Be right back!

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After that brief interlude, we now cut to Corey in the shower!



Hey Bruiser, hope you didn't have your phone out in public. Boy, that could be AWKWARD! Corey chuckles. Anyhow, let's get to the thirteen shades of HOT MESS that was your last promo. First off, I gotta give you props for having the balls to wage a war against the more fantastic elements of the XWF all the while cribbing from a dystopian sci-fi horror movie franchise. I guess we're fighting fire with fire here? Also, super hard props for trying to punch so far up from your current intellectual level by using quotes from Orwell's 1984. Too bad you clearly have no fucking idea of their meaning or context. Maybe I should just start using random quotes from literary classics to try in vain to head off the notion that I'm an empty headed spaz like you do.

He puts his loofah down and spits out some water.

Gonna need you to clear something up for me my man. This is PART 2 of your purge? Was Part 1 when you lost to Raphael Blackwater? Because generally speaking the successful completion of part 1 should come before part 2, right?

Corey chuckles and wipes some water from his eyes.

Look bitch, the only thing you're purging from the XWF is ratings and buyrates every time your awkward dumpy ass waddles out to cut some generic uninspired promo and lose a match. I mean shit, you can't even come at me and Lux (or the Blackwaters for that matter) without retreading shit Sarah Lacklan did like TWO MONTHS AGO. And here I thought the rule in the wrestling biz was that you had to wait at least seven years before old was new again? Well I guess not with you BB.

“Superior class of athlete” my ass. You have done DICK ALL since you got here except for try to gloss over your rampant failures with a sheen of lead based paint that you promptly began to EAT even before it dried. And I'm of two minds when it comes to how your match with Raphael Blackwater went down on Anarchy because on one hand, it's just going to fuel your Trumpian narrative that everyone is out to get you and that the deck is unfairly stacked. But on the other hand, you're the idiot that stacked that deck! You inked a contract for a no-DQ match against a dude whose brothers are LITERALLY ALWAYS WITH HIM.

Bruiser, WHY AREN'T YOU WEARING YOUR HELMET?

Holy shit! If you're this fine example of wrestling Aryan supremacy that's supposed to lead us into a new golden age, just how lazy-eyed and cleft lipped are future XWF generations going to be?

And now, you're rolling from one complete fuck up straight into another one. Walking into this thinking that making our fight an “I Quit” match was some big coup for you. I want you to stop and picture for a moment just how devastating it'll be to your credibility to have to say “I Quit”. I mean, you came in here like a house of fire, issuing challenges, bitching about not being booked (which, honestly is just because you were TOO DUMB TO FIGURE OUT HOW, “wow, much blonde hair blue eye, very superior specimen, wow”) only to underwhelm EVERYONE at War Games, lose at Anarchy and now have to beg Lux to stop hurting you at Savage. Can you imagine how GUTTING that's going to be? I mean, you had about as much credibility as Gilly does when he claims he'll break a 10 minute promo time BEFORE, can you imagine what things will be like for you after Lux makes you tap like a bitch in front of the whole world? I'm starting to gather that this whole “planning and foresight” thing is not your strong suit.

Corey shivers. Cold already? Who pays the bills around here? He turns off the water and throws his towel back on, starting to dry off.

Look man, you're GONNA lose at Savage. It's as big a given as the sun coming up the next day and Tommy Gunn not catching a charge for killing Rain (can you win a Nobel Prize for that? He earned it!). I think the big question you need to ask yourself is how you're gonna roll with that loss. Are you gonna accept it and move on? Or are you gonna act like a giant squalling pissbitch and blame everybody BUT you for your failures once again? If you ask me? I think you're probably gonna do the second one and quit. You always seemed to be more the “immediate gratification” type, the kind of guy for whom words like “hard work” and “dedication” and “learning from your mistakes” only apply to other people. Which is super ironic because you just scream “that guy who bitches about the latest generation being weak from the shadowy corner at the bar” as you pound down shots to blot out all those weird thoughts about just how good Chris Hemsworth looked in Bad Times at the El Royale.

Corey finishes drying and puts the towel back around his waist.

Bruiser, it is conceivable that one day somebody will walk into this place and truly reset the status quo. In fact, I think it would be pretty cool to shuffle the board like that. But it's not gonna be you. Ask anybody in that locker room. Nobody sees the Boston Bruiser setting the world on fire here. You're too spoiled, too stupid, too trite, and quite frankly just not nearly talented enough to be the trend setter you so desperately want to be. Hard truths are hard. Kind of like your dick right now.

He waggles his tongue at the camera seductively.

Love is love, man. See ya at your next “L”.