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APEX-LEGACY REWIND: Shan Solo has been frozen in carbonite and delivered to Bobba the Hutt on Tatooine! Not only that, Darth Fury gave Drewk the ol' Slap Chop AND dropped the bomb that SHE is HIS mother! Add to that the fact BoB is building a second Death Star to cause havoc, the universe is in serious jeopardy. Well, Apex-Legacy has no intention of taking this lying down; plans have already been set in motion to free Shan Solo from his carbonite tomb and after that, get a whole heapin' helpin' of revenge on their enemies...








STAR WARS

EPISODE VI PART I

"THE RETURN OF APEX-LEGACY"



---BOBBA'S PALACE BOURBON DOJO, TATOOINE 90210---



A BLASTER shot rings out echoing through the Dojo, startling scare poops in a myriad of colors, textures and fragrances from the melting pot of alien species playing party goers.


Thunder Fett looks to his porcine pig guard peers.







What sucks about this armor is it's a onesie with no drop-seat. You, Squidface, you're wearing a robe, you got to drop that steaming pile on the floor; I'll be scrubbing THIS shit out for days.


Some dumbass guarding the court egress leading from the heart of the Dojo out into the remaining halls and chambers (including the jail, Bobba's royal snack room, the fap room, the room where he keeps all his collectibles, his mom and dad's room- it's actually their palace -his second royal snack room and of course the fat fuck human slug bathroom with toilet naturally in XXXL) yelps out and falls down the stairs. All eyes turn to the egress.


An unidentifiable being clad in archetypal Star Wars rando bounty hunter gear steps down the stairs shoving none other than Mainbacca in shackles!


Who the hell are you? Hey Bobba-

















-who the hell is that?


Peencha wahnchee goba, hoo.


Huh? Bobby I told you before I don't speak Hutt. Or Klingon. Nerd.


Sorry, that was uncontrollable babble through rictus lips, I think I just had a fat guy stroke.

My friend has a point though, who the hell are you?


Removes helmet. Someone who wants to kill the shit out of you.


Mainbacca looks to Princess Baea in shock. What are you doing?? I thought the plan was to-


Screw the plan, I'm not wasting any time with this! She raises a thermal detonator-


-but Thunder Fett clunks her in the head with his blaster before she can arm it then shoots Mainbacca with a stun blast.


As Baea drops, unconsciousness claiming her, she hears-


Thinking what I'm thinking Bobba? Tee hee. We gotta thaw Solo out for this...


=====================


---LATER THE SAME DAY...---


Bobba's automatic garage door rolls upward as a cloaked figure in silhouette makes his way in...


... it's DREWK SKYWALKER boyeeeee and BOY does he look pissed and all Jedi Mastered the fuck out right about now. Seems he recovered from his run-in with Darth Fury and completed his training with Yoven on Dagobah.


Pig Preesh, a Gamorrean guard, steps forward to decline entry, grunting and oinking.


Drewk raises a hand unleashing his Jedi powers. Pig Preesh paws at his throat as if he can't breathe, backpedaling to the wall behind him and-


-bursts. All over the place. What a mess...


Examining his hand in horror. Holy moly. These Jedi powers are no joke!


An entourage of pig guards rush onto the scene...


Lord...



---Minutes later...---


Covered, dripping, in pig pawn viscera, Drewk makes his way down the stairs into Bobba the Hutt's court.


And who do we have here? Three visitors in one day, I've never been so popular.


I'm Drewk Skywalker, Jedi Master. I'm here to rescue my friends Solo, Baea and Mainbacca. Where are they? Looks slightly to the left of Bobba and spies Slave Baea. Oh hey Betsy, looking good.


And good god does she ever. Oh what? You wanna see her in her slave garb? Yeah, I thought you would, here...







::Sigh:: anyway, back to the program...


Ok, one down. Now where's Solo and Mainbacca, Bobba?


I'm sorry? I can't hear you, come a little closer...


Stepping forward. Well alright, I don't see the harm in it.


Hits a button on his throne, releasing a trap door beneath Drewk's feet. HA! Gotcha!


Landing in a heap far below. Pfft. Fat fucking liar. Surveying his surroundings. Judging from the bones scattered about and the strong ammonia smell of an unchanged kitty litter box, Drewk realizes he's in some kinda creature's domain. I'm calling giant pit monster.


Suddenly, a massive medieval style gate creaks and begins to raise. As it sloooooowly does so, Drewk enjoys a short break with a nice quart of dark chocolate almond milk. At long last the gate reaches it's zenith and with a ROAR, out stomps-







Yup. Giant pit monster. Final form of The Baphomet.


The Rancormet ROARS again and stoops to scoop Drewk for Skywalker soup.


Not in THIS lifetime Baph.


Igniting his lightsaber, Drewk cuts the Left Hand off of the Rancormet. It shrieks in agony and rears back it's head.


There we go, don't you move now...


Extending his hand and his Force powers, Drewk forces a switch on the wall to press.


The massive gate suddenly drops, catching Rancormet in the head and forcing him off his feet to land belly first an instant before the gate crushes his gigantic head. Rancormet brains splatter all over Drewk, adding to the guts of Pig Preesh and the other pig guards he was already drenched in. He smiles proudly and switches off his 'saber-


I'll take that!


-taken by surprise as Thunder Fett (having somehow swiftly hauled his lard ass down the Rancormet keeper's entrance) snatches it from his grasp.


You're coming with me. Bobba has plans for you and your friends...


A short time later, Drewk finds himself being held with Solo and Mainbacca aboard the equivalent of a Star Wars desert planet hover speedboat alongside Bobba the Hutt's parents's hover yacht with naught but an odd antlion-esque pit in the sand between the two craft.


Hey Shan. You're looking a little groggy.


Yeah dick, I was frozen in carbonite forever. Just got thawed out, whaddya want?


Mm, grouchy too. Hey Mainbacca, how're YOU doing?


This costume is a thousand degrees, I keep getting hair in my mouth, my throat is sore from all the Wookie noises; it's just one shit storm after another hoss.


Don't worry boys, we'll collect Princess Baea and be on our way soon enough.


Hey...where are R2 and Threepio?


Oh, we were running over budget so we had to lay them off. No worries, they aren't integral to the plot.


From the deck of Bobba's yacht, strutting like an arrogant Bastard and interrupting- Ok pay attention dicks. Bobba the Hutt has decreed that you all die dishonorably in the spacious gut of his favorite . Drewk if you step out onto the plank you'll see what I mean.


Drewk does so for shits and giggles...to see not far below him-

























Believe you me, Drewk, he is ooooone hungry fat ]


Loudly. Uh huh. Hunger, obesity and seem to be a recurring theme with you three. Now Bobba, this is your first and final warning...free us now...or we'll merk every last one of you.


A grimacing Slave Baea in chains beside him, Bobba emits a guttural fat guy Hutt laugh from inside his parents's hover yacht. [color=#ff6347]Hoo hoo hoo hoo hooooo...haaaaah hah hah. Proceed with the execution!


[b]You heard him!


A Bobba guard stalks up behind Drewk and shoves him off the plank!!


But Drewk spins in midair as he falls, snatching the end of the plank and using it's springboard nature to rocket himself back up into the air, somersaulting like a PIMP back onto the plank BEHIND the guard while simultaneously reaching out with the Force towards Thunder Fett. His captive lightsaber pulls free of Boba's belt and zooms to his open hand. He activates it and slices the guard in half, both halves tumbling into the Ozlacc Pit's waiting wide open maw.


Bobba stammers out- Hey! What just happened!?


In frustration. What a load of shit. Drewk stole his lightsaber back and killed the guard. Don't worry boss, I'll handle this. You want something done right you gotta do it yourself. And guess what boys? I'm going to kick your asses to my very own soundtrack! Thunder Fett taps play on his armor's mp3 player.






I fucking love you MC Chris. Let's get it on! Fett ignites his jet pack and sails over to alight gracefully between Drewk and Mainbacca & Solo. Who wants some? Drawing his blaster- fumbling it rather because with his corpulent fingers stuffed into tight gloves, doing anything other than waving is a hilarious challenge in dexterity.


Go on and save Baea, Drewk. Mainbacca and I got this fat fuck.


Without a second's hesitation, Drewk does indeed take a running start down the length of the plank and springs through the air, again Jedi somersaulting, clearing the Ozlacc Pit- who rumbles in disappointment -and landing aboard the deck of Bobba's parents's yacht. He begins chopping the dozen or so aliens swarming him into pieces in a grisly display.


Show off...


I love that spectacular son of a bitch.


Finally able to retrieve and aim his blaster at Shan and Mainbacca. NOW you two fuckers have had it!


Mainbacca bats the weapon from his grasp. It flies over the side of the craft. Ozzy swallows it.


LoL. Dumbass.


Oh you dick!


Shan smirks. Let's kick his ass 'bacca.


Cracking his Wookie knuckles. With pleasure.


Aw...shit.


---Meanwhile, with Bobba on the yacht...---


This is a disaster!


Slave Baea turns on the sympathy. Who would've thought screwing with Apex-Legacy would bring about such calamity? I'm so sorry Bobba. It looked like you were going to pull it all off and I hate to admit it, I even started rooting for you. Slowly she begins to creep onto the sturdy dais on which he lays.


I just don't get it, Bets- er, Baea. Things were going so well for TNGB and BoB. We had the entire universe in our hands...


Has now crept her way up onto his dais, running her hands along his corpulent Hutt body as she makes her way around his immense form. Yeah, it sucks. It really does. I'm sorry Bobba. You guys were all doing so well, it's true. Hey I was wondering, how hot is it in that suit? Mainbacca has been complaining since suiting up.


What suit? Oh, no this is me defrocked. Naked to be frank.


Removing her hands in revulsion, looking about to puke. What? Well, wha- what happened to your legs?


The ghostly disembodied voice of Obi Jim Caedobi butts in. Darth Diabetes, THAT'S what happened. Ain't that right Bobba? Both legs off. I warned you years ago you big idiot. But noooooooooo, YOU wouldn't listen. Now lookatcha...a two ton banana slug.


Confused irritation. Jim?? You're not in this scene!


I know but I just couldn't RESIST.


Preoccupied with the chain in her hands. Now's NOT the time, Jimmy...


Yeah but- Oh alright. ...Dammit. You can't see me but I'm leaving now.


Suspiciously glancing around. ...............Jimmyyyyyyyy?


Okay, okay! Fuck! How'd you know!?


We hear an otherworldly door slamming somewhere.


God I hate that guy. He beats me EVERY time.


Must be frustrating. Kind of like what you did to me a little while back. Remember? While you spent six hours calling out James Raven?


Chuckling. Oh yeah... That was a fun night.


Yes, I bet it was... Baea suddenly swings her lengthy slave chains over Bobba's head and around his throat!! As she pulls it taut, Bobba instantly sputters and gags.


Please- ::choke, gasp:: -Don't kill me. I'll...I'll give you a Ding Dong! Eyes bug out as Slave Baea yanks the chain tighter.


A Ding Dong?? Innuendo!? How DARE you, as if I would EVER- Pulls harder.


Choking out- I meant the cream filled pastry variety! Not THAT! I'm FAT with a child's penis located somewhere within my Hutt folds, I couldn't possibly-


A likely story! Here's some on-the-nose innuendo for you, give me some head! She yanks the chain even TIGHTER-


-totally slicing into Bobba's massive doughy neck and beheading him!!


Oh...oh god... I didn't mean literally. Well, I didn't mean in ANY way to be honest. She shudders.


Yelled from the deck of Bobba's personal hover yacht- No worries Betsy, I accidentally chopped the head off a Wampa the other day, then splattered Big Preesh and slayed the Rancormet earlier. As we speak I'm about to kill the last asshole up here, you're good.


Back with Shan and Mainbacca...


Pained as he lies in a heap on the ground while Solo and Main stomp the hell out of him. Oooooooooooh. Please, no more.


The two stop. Ok, I think he's had enough.


A final stomp. Yep. Shall we?


We shall.


Shan and Mainbacca grab an arm and a leg each and lift- with extreme effort and a lot of grunting -Thunder Fett from the deck of the craft and begin walking him over to the side nearest the Ozlacc Pit.


Whoa, whoa, WHOA! Is this entirely necessary?


It is absolutely necessary, yes.


Also fun. I owe you for that skull cracking you pudgy bitch.


Dicks. I'll see you in Force Hell.


I'm an atheist buddy, I don't believe in it. Ready man?


One-


Two-


They release. Thunder Fett squeals all the way down as the Ozlacc swallows him whole and belches.


A moment later, Drewk Tarzan swings over with Slave Baea. Fatt dead?


Yep. Bobba's yacht set to crash down into the Ozlacc Pit and explode the two of them?


I set the controls myself.


Righty-O then, let's cheese it before Bobba's parents figure out what happened to their yacht and their tragically fat son. Once we get back to Mos Eisley spaceport, you guys go ahead and tell the Rebellion to prepare for a second Death Star assault then head to the Endor moon set and get ready; we'll need to shut down the Death Star's shield generators there. I'll go check in on Yoven in the meantime.


Check. Shan and Baea nod their agreement as well.


They zoom away as the Hutt yacht slowly tips like the Titanic and stabs bow first into Ozlacc's mouth before detonating and deleting said Oz beast.


=================


---11 Parsecs Later---


Drewk masterfully lands his new custom apeX-Wing on Dagobah. 11 parsecs. Suck it, Solo. Kessel Run my ass.


Disembarking then picking his way through the swamp, he locates and enters Yoven's hovel. The aging Jedi Master himself is lying beneath a ratty looking blanket looking sickly.


Shut the door Drewk, I'm old and I'll catch a goddamn draft!


Drewk turns to do so before realizing- There is no door.


And there is no spoon. Catch my drift Neo?


Faux amazement. You still got it Master Yoven.


What I've got is covid, Darkside variant. I knew banging that swamp hooker without a Force condom and a mask was a bad call. Coughs.


So...what, you're going to be off your feet for awhile?


Oh it's much worse than that, Drewk. I'm a millenia old...uh...whatever the fuck Yoda is and I've got covid.


I guess it's a good thing I completed my training and passed all your Jedi tests then huh? Now I'm a Jedi?


You completed your training, true, but if you consider that abortion against Fury on Cloud City and the other failure before that against your own self to be acing the tests then yes. You are a Jedi. The WORST Jedi in galactic history. I thought I told you to close that door!?


Turns fractionally before- Dammit, got me again. You really DO still got it Master Yoven.


You know it muthafucka. And if you want to finally earn the title of Jedi, you're going to have to kick Fury's fupa.


Hey, while I've got you here-


Where am I going?


Ignoring him. -I wanted to ask you about that. Master Yoven...is Fury my mother?


............Your mammy she is. She abandoned you with your Aunt and Uncle because she's an irredeemably lowlife scumbag cumdumpster and was too busy fellating Emperor Pagepatine to be bothered with motherhood.


That...deadbeat BITCH! I grew up on a desert planet with my Aunt and that taskmaster Uncle of mine because I was an inconvenience!?


Yoven shivers as a groan of impending death escapes him. Drewk suddenly withers in sadness. CHARLIE HORSE! CHARLIE HORSE! My leg!! Oh god this is agony!


Relief. Thank goodness, I thought you were about to croak. Hey, can I have this picture of you when you do? He holds it up for us all to see.


























Oh the death is coming too. And no. No you cannot have that photo. In fact, I demand that photo be burned once the hype cycle is complete. I don't want that horrendous face-swap getting around.


Sadness again. Master Yoven, you can't die.


Hoo boy, if you can't even grasp the concept of life and death you're DEFINITELY not a Jedi yet and you may never be. Now come closer, I have a few secrets to whisper before I kick. Drewk does as he's told, leaning in close. First of all, always wipe front to back. No wait, that's my advice for Fury in regards to her shitty slitty. Ah yes, I remember. Ok... first, Drewk... you're going to come up against Emperor Pagepatine. Don't overestimate him, he's a complete fucktard on a downward spiral. Drewk...second, when I'm gone I expect you to pass on what you have learned under my tutelage. KEEP THE JEDI GOING, I can't stress that enough. Drewk...third, also feed my goldfish and water the plants when I'm gone. They're all Force trained and should be capable of independence but they're even worse at this than you are. Drewk...fourth, you are thus far a disappointment. Shape up. Drewk...


MUST you say my name prior to each "secret"?


Yes. Drewk....fifth, you are not an only child. Fury legit was a whore and there is another bastard running around out there.


Wait, what??


You.......heard................m......me. Yoven's final breath escapes and his eyes slowly close. While Drewk looks on, eyes glistening, the Jedi Master's body fades away to nothingness. Somewhere orchestral master John Williams plucks somber notes on violin or a harp or something, attempting to compel us all to break down into tears. Vicious A-hole...


An hour later, after thoroughly checking Yoven's house for cash and valuables (hey, memorial services are expensive and Drewk hasn't a dime to his name), Drewk sadly packs up his apeX-Wing while muttering to himself. What am I supposed to do without Yoven to guide me?


Yoven will always be with you bro. Trust me. He's like herpes.


Turning slowly, that ol' "you motherfucker" look crossing his face. Obi Jim...


Ecstatic. Hey Drewkski!


Don't you "hey Drewkski" me you son of a bitch... You lied to me. You told me WAY back when we first met that Fury betrayed and killed my mother when in actuality she IS my mother.


Hey, I ain't no liar. I told ya she betrayed and murdered your mother. When Fury chose to become Darth Fury, she effectively betrayed and murdered who she was. So what I told you was true. From a certain point of view.


No, no it ISN'T. What you told me was a lie from ALL points of view, you were being purposely misleading!


Yeah, heh, yeah I guess I was. Well, live and learn right?


Live and lear- YOU'RE DEAD JIM!


Only from a certain point of view.


Rolling eyes. Look, before I take off and fulfill my destiny in confronting my mother, I need you to tell me- HONESTLY -do I have a brother or sister? Because Yoven said I-


Baea is your sister. ::HUGE exhale:: Woo! Feels GREAT to get that one off my chest.


Baea. Princess Baea. My sister. That makes NO sense whatsoever.


Hey, just be thankful you two didn't...y'know...fuck.


This is too much, I just can't. I'm out of here.


Yeah that's probably best, time constraints and all. Have a good showdown with your momma bro. We'll see ya at the after-party.


====================


---Endor Moon---


Drewk's apeX-Wing rockets past an armada of Rebel ships currently in battle with the Empire's own armada and the second Death Star, still under construction, then enters Endor's atmosphere.


A minute later, he's hopping out of the cockpit and descending the ladder to the forest floor, Ewok and Stormtrooper bodies lying here and there as far as the eye can see...


Shan, Baea and Mainbacca stroll up.


I told you guys to get set up, that means WAIT for me. What the hell happened?


War happened. And a lot of stupid bullshit with the Ewoks.


You were taking forever Drewk, we have lives too you know.


Well...how much did I miss?


Whole damn thing dude. As a matter of fact, we have explosive charges already set on the shield generator and ready to go.


Baea, I have something VERY important to tell you by the way. It will have to wait though. You three give me TEN MINUTES to find Darth Fury and turn myself over to her. I have a plan. ...TEN. MINUTES. ...Ok?


Ten minutes, gotcha.



---8 Minutes Later---


Having located and turned himself over to Fury, the latter is leading Drewk to her personal shuttle awaiting to take them both to Emperor Pagepatine.


I know you're my mother.


Obi Jim told you huh? Fucking big mouth. That bastard never COULD keep a secret. That why you turned yourself over to me, son?


Yeah, I was hoping maybe you would find you have second thoughts over the whole thing. I can feel the conflict in you. I know there's a mother in there somewhere.


There is no conflict.


Ok, so there's a mother fucker inside you, got it. My mother is truly dead.


As the two of them start entering Fury's shuttle. You just wait until you speak to Emperor Pagepatine. He'll show you the true meaning of-


KABOOOOOOOOM!! The shield generator explodes.


Oh you IDIOTS! Two minutes early!


Chuckles. No biggie. I have foreseen this would happen. Get your narrow ass on the shuttle.



=====================


Meanwhile, on Rebel Admiral Ackbar's flagship out in space.


THE SHIELD IS DOWN!! All fighters commence attack!



TO BE CONCLUDED...


♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡















Weeeeeeeeell well...at LONG fuckin' last...BoB has no CHOICE but to face me in a goddamn match. May be a 12 man tag match but fuck it. I've been here since before Leap of Faith yet tragically this is the first time I've been allowed to get my hands on any 'a you in sanctioned competition, tf's that about? Legit I made my return durin' one 'a your BoB shows, snaggin' you quality and ratings the likes 'a which you haven't seen since btw, scatterin' the LOT 'a you in this 6 on 6 lineup that were there in attendance and it seems you all never. Stopped. Running from me.


P
U
S
S
I
E
S


All the run-ins, attacks and ambushes, the gang warfare, matches with Drew, Main, Shawn and Betsy, callin' out Raven (you happy now Bobby? Lulz)... Jim Caedus, the guy HERE and ACTIVE, dude threatening Page and slammin' TNGB, ignored.


My bad, that ain't fair.


To me.


Avoided is the word.


Fuckin' cowards.


I don't hafta tell YOU, TK, ya tried to pink mist me in the ring with a sniper rifle (and somehow missed from the rafters...with a SNIPER RIFLE you couldn't hit a target in the ring Lee Harvey Hardly. How does Owen Hart have better aim than you and he ain't even use a scope?), a ballsy move to say the least, and where'd it lead?


Huh?


Nowhere.


What the shit TK? What happened to the big badass that had the guts to split my brother Bob-O Main's skull open (you're gonna die for that, thicc bitch)? In fact, I notice I'm not the only one you avoid, you avoid damn near anyone with talent around here as far as singles matches are concerned. Too much of a nutless limp-dick hidin' behind Bourbon for how long now? You refuse to face even Lycana- half of a tag team that can't manage to defeat TNGB -on your own and she's BEEN challengin' you in promo. How the hell you live with yourself ya dumpy pussy pissant?


Fuck Lycana tho, you avoid ME. Both you AND Bourbs. Him I understand, I kick that fat fuck's pasty ass every time but YOU... You literally took a shot at me as if you were ITCHIN' ta try your luck, then ya shriveled up like that toddler noodle you got hidden between those thunder thighs and overhanging fleshy dude fupa. Hideous F-T-R, no wonder you get no vag, jag-off. TROLOLOLOLOL.


Anyway, whadja do next?


Accordin' to already aired material, War Games as a prime example, you not only started bitin' my style (DEFINITIVELY, can't NO ONE validly deny that) but any time the name Jim and/or Caedus left your lips it was legit to have those same lips wrap 'round my DICK with flattery and hero worship. And yeah yeah, I know, NOW you're probably gonna come at me 'cause in actuality what you and the rest 'a your troupe have been doin' is tryna prevent me from collectin' ammo on all 'a you (or you're all just simply weak as fuck) like some panicky bitches anticipatin' this war of words showdown...and like everyone ELSE who's been doin' that, you're gonna see just how far it gets with me.


I never run outta shit to say, you sacless lame. Clearly. Fuck's the matter with you idiots?


And regardless 'a the fact you oh so clever cucks swung a strategy attemptin' to starve me outta salvo material, the truth is you all had to bitch out to do it. And you TK, went so far as to get on your hands and knees to complete the facade.


Stay there.


On your hands and knees.


You wanna love on me so badly, keep your flubbery fat body right there so I can fuck an oralpie 'a punishin' TT talent down your throat. Snowballin' my hot skeet outshines any shit you ever said on your own.


You were never as good as me, you ain't now and you never will be; give it up, ass-wipe. Hearin' you tryta cut like Caedus is an embarrassment, almost as embarrassing as your HUGE botch tryna pin Dolly Waters in the 24/7 Halls 'cause you're a fuckin' feeble minded duncecap who couldn't manage to keep track 'a who won War Games and walked out with MY Xtreme Title.


Seems like it ain't gonna be too much of a task to confuse you in the ring and smack you around Teekay. Your dom Bobby is gonna be SO disappointed in you.


Speakin' 'a Bobby...


Jim can't help a shit eating grin from crossing his face.


Miiiiiister Bourbon, been a long time. Like your ex girlfriend Blue's puffy ass after a Caedus brand pounding, I see you're still as fat and red as ever. STILL breakin' a sweat standin', walkin' and breathin'. STILL my fatboy fucktoy. Man I dig when shit don't change, my fluffy tub 'a love.


Y'tell Teekay about me?


Hey Teeks, you ain't exactly Bobby's best partner ever. See, beyond the fact Bobby is one 'a the greatest stable whores around, at one time he was teamed with yours truly in The Motherfuckers. That's right, how's my dick taste TK? Then I swiftly dropkicked Bourbs to the curb for the chance to form APEX, a TRULY dominating stable I might add, who in turn smashed The Motherfuckers at War Games 2017. That was a gas...and I know that jump from you to them left you butthurt, Bourbs Boobs. But hey, nothin' a 10k calorie carbo load in one sitting can't fix, amirite? Good ol' food, always there to comfort the cryin' hippo that is Bobby Bourbon.


I swear to God you been swellin' up since I left too, as soon as ya saw Apex-Legacy was droppin' Star Wars promos you had to know you were destined for Bobba the Hutt. It's where you're headed, a no-legged non ambulatory reality. Ya may LOOK like some King 'a Fighters fucktard but the world's lard-assiest luchadore is a human being beneath the mask, susceptible to the same diseases we all are if we spent half the day EVERY day divin' in for dinin' on McDonalds dumpster write-offs like you, ya bloated buttfucker.


Double Tag Champion, do they pay you in fried Twinkies and birthday cake for fucksake? How, in the name 'a Keebler, can the physical embodiment of a diabetic coma compete so regularly and not only maintain that full manatee figure but CONTINUE to balloon to humpback whale? It boggles the mind how you and that clumsy doofus Teekay have held the XWF Tags for so long but don't worry, you'll be losin' those straps soon enough, I promise. It's as inevitable as you losin' a foot ya sugar-filled fuckstick.


Then the other shoe's gonna drop.


You know how this goes Bourbs. I let our little bathroom convo durin' Anarchy Throwback go without stuffin' your four-flusher fatass in the hopper (call it a sign 'a respect for ol' times sake as my ever-presentin'-pooper-for-penetration pal) but that's the last slice 'a civility you'll ever see from me again. ESPECIALLY...after what you did to lil' sis Miss Granger later that same night.


Jim's expression darkens, the emotion drains away.


You and your partner have caused a whole lotta hell for my favorite people in this business. My comrades.


My family.


Fuck happened to you, Robert? You've always been a spazz douchebag but this kinda shit? Can't take it back...gangin' up on Bets', puttin' the Mainiac in the hospital...and now, I'm gonna hafta hurt you for it. I don't give a good goddamn if it happens in this 12 man tag match or at a sooner than later date but it's gonna happen. And if I get either you or TK in the match on Wednesday, better believe I'ma be stiffin' every. Fuckin'. Move.


Fuck am I talkin', every ONE 'a you deserves the stiff dick treatment.


Ozzy, for once not the weakest link in lieu 'a that highly questionable inclusion of an opponent any of us only needs a data-erasing magnet to muck with, Mr. BoB. Still, you weren't BoB Elite forever for a reason, ya dimbulb fake belt makin' muppet, and I no longer feel any sympathy for an asshat reject who REFUSES to effectively maintain quality competing like Bobby so expertly maintains enough mass to justify harpooning.


And on the subject 'a justified gut stabbings-


-Miss Fury. Finally we meet to compete and just in time to take this Caedus cock up the cunt you so aptly define. Not just a cunt though, a cuck 'a the female variety, lettin' a MAN like Chris Page STEAL your stable 'a Baddies and fuck it into old-hat yawn-fest territory like the sincerely submissive slut you are behind closed doors. You remind me 'a Micheal Graves. Always fulla great ideas but deferrin' to the REAL men around 'im (even in that light-in-the-loafers Cadryn's case, go figure) to take charge.


How's that make you feel, Fury? To KNOW that Page, the sudden loser who can't win much in the way 'a matches lately, is better than you? Stronger than you? Oh, I know you won't admit it, hell, you follow that fool's lead. There he was lyin' 'bout leavin' BoB in an amateur attempt to throw a curveball and here you come with the "BoB splitting up!?" bullshit over on Anarchy.


No one cares.


BoB's been fallin' apart since I got here. Dixon is a loser, Atty is a lot smarter than the rest 'a you took her for so she seems to be out, Page lost the Uni (AND couldn't get it back LOL), Bobby lost the TV, Ozzy lost the Billion Dollar Belt, you Fury lost that blackmail battle with Boss Lane, that shit with BigD, Dolly...Jesus joke of a career Christ, if it weren't for Ozzy's bottomless pockets allowin' you all to FORCE yourselves upon the fed with the least entertaining tripe, boring BoB card after BoB card, few of us would even remember you assholes existed.


Somethin' I know Chris Page fears most of all... obscurity.


Oh I'm sorry, you're The Beast now right?


L
M
A
O
O
O
O
O
O


You- 🤣 Y- you fuckin'- 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 You fuckin' decided it was time to "get scary serious" so your first inclination was to slap on some makeup and a spiky leather jacket?


🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂


Oh my Gooooooooooood bro, this ain't the 80s, ain't no one scared, shocked or even mildly surprised at the sight of a goth gayrod anymore; all we do is roll our eyes and snicker. Holy SHIT are you lucky you LIED on the phone to keep me at bay years ago so I wasn't around when Cataclysm was a thing with The Beast. I mean, The Monstrosity is pretty dope. THAT'S off-putting, frightening. A monster.


But The Beast?


You're just an old fuck in black clown greasepaint who ain't got it no more. The best shit you got is lyin'.


Non-stop.


99.9% of every word that exits that salad tossin' wang waxer you call a mouth is hot air. Matter of fact, you're one 'a the most overrated hacks I've ever come across, all you do is unleash wave after wave of wet shit in promo. You claim one thing then flip to the opposite when it suits your "argument". You completely fabricate "facts". You deny points that nail you as if the kindergarten concept of "nu-uuuuh" is a haymaker. You legit recently started flippin' lie "surprises" with the Jesus crap and I'm Quitting BoB in a HIGHLY DESPERATE attempt to outsmart opponents light years beyond your ability to beat...Chris...you're nothin' but a slightly more accomplished version 'a Charlie Nickles.


Yeah motherfucker. Charlie Nickles.


And now you're collectin' defeats as fast as you can JUST like he does you dipshit shade-throwin' thot. And y'know what? That's exactly what you deserve.


You genuinely believe you're somethin' special when you're no different than every other dishonest, attention-starved, control freak fuck-up I ever came across and oh so UNJUSTIFIABLY arrogant to boot. Which makes every loss of yours I witness that much sweeter and bonerfied. At this point, you should ask Ozzy for a loan and lobby Lane to take the Vinnie Mac approach and start angling all your matches 'cause you ain't gonna see a W without it the way you been goin'. What am I sayin'...somethin' like that would be beneath the mighty Chris Page, wouldn't it. Chris Page is a legend. Chris Page is the best. Chris Page is good enough to win on his own ring skill and merit- well not anyMORE but you get what I mean I'm sure.


You ARE your biggest fan after all. And dare I say, it won't be long before you're your ONLY fan.


Your game in the ring just ain't good enough anymore, it damn sure ain't gonna be good enough for Apex-Legacy. Your game OUTTA the ring, the hype game, that shit's been tankin' and stankin' for months now...well, I mean, WHEN you actually compete ya former Uni Champ rain cloud ass pathetic pussy. Took a break and it did you no good, that means



RETIRE LOSER



and let the rest of us get on with our careers withOUT your constant "look at me, I'm still relevant" buzzin' in our ears.


You're a joke, jack-off.


Period.


Your traps are as obvious and plain as day, your strats as tired as BoB's antics, no one thinks your "ultimate" stable is cool or badass anymore, especially after Team BoB- the ONLY solid team -LOST War Games.


This 12 man match represents the death knell for you and BoB, Page. The final nail in the coffin. You can come out with an avalanche 'a asinine attacks on moi all you want, it won't do you any good. You all refused to say much more than a throwaway line or two, if anything at all, at me these past months because you were savin' it all up for a situation like this. But the fact you've all avoided me, includin' you Page, as far as a legitimate match was concerned proves how ill-prepared BoB was and is for me to be added to it all.


You.


Fear.


Me.


Because I'm the guy that goes to lengths no one else in Apex or Legacy will go to ensure a victory. To ensure retribution.


PUNISHMENT.


Punishment is warranted.


Punishment is what the six 'a you in this match will receive. Not just from me, from the entire lineup you pricks have been fuckin' with for far too long.


However, as far as Jim Caedus is concerned...


For Apex...


For Legacy...


For Bob-O and Betsy...


And for me...


I have an obligation- and the desire -to skewer the six 'a you on my dick, makin' sure to stutter the high fat content meat 'a TNGB between the braindead vegetables, with you Page, the make-up wearin' chunk 'a fruit, to top it all off, cook you all over the flames then let the thirty or so jobbers in your stable pick my Caedus cock keBoB clean so they can have a taste 'a "The Elite" for once.



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