It was a clear black night, with a clear white moon. Warren G was nowhere to be found, but rather a gang of his kindred are seen milling around in some dark deserted alley way in a large city that appears to be bustling with cars and people. A group of street thugs, African American in racial decent of course, consisting of three individuals dressed in a mixture of both black ninja Halloween costumes and camouflage. The busy city and whizzing of cars past constantly over the background of the camera's view down the narrow alleyway is seen taking place over their shoulders in what we will come to see as a metaphor for what we will come to discover as the real world or otherwise known as reality.

Inside the alleyway; however, our three marauding murdering mischievous black monkeys are living out some kind of fantasy world as one of them pulls open a pink iPhone from their pocket and holds it up high in the sky over his head, as if he were Link in those old school Zelda games on the original Nintendo, holding up a piece of the tri-force after completing a dungeon. The other two black men kneel before the phone as it grows in size, chanting some type of witch craft-like ritualistic nonsense, until finally the entire screen covers the former background of cars and persons traveling and bustling behind it down the narrow alleyway. Honking of horns and pounding of footsteps now become the few last sounds of reality as we've come to discover it, and has now faintly drifted it's audible ability away and is now drowned out with the relentless and entrancing beats and soothing vocals of the Pikachu song.

Just listen to that shit right now and don't tell me that it's not mesmerizing as fuck, those damn Asians and their weirdo weeb anime worlds have been secretly hypnotizing everyone for years. We all live in a poke-world now whether you all want to admit it or not. The song continues to play in the background as an application opens oddly on the pink phone out of its own accord. All three men now leap to their feet and frantically dig through their pockets to find their ski masks and pull them over their head. One of them now reaches into a dumpster that I'm sure he most conveniently positioned himself next to, knowing that the magically grown enormous cell phone would be opening the virtual reality application in front of them. He pulls out three AR-15 semiautomatic rifles, signature LEGAL killing machines, and tosses one each to his two comrades. All three of them then flip the guns around like military soldiers and turn about face together in unison. They bow their heads and lower their weapons while holding one clinched fist up in mid air, Black Panther style.

A giant banner reads across the screen of the phone before the virtual reality game opens behind it. The banner in the pop up reads 'This training program video game is brought to you and paid for by the United States military'. After the pop up closes, the Pikachu song grows even louder until it is piercing the ear drums and penetrating deep into the brain. The pix-elated video game screen now stretches down onto the ground below, transforming the ground beneath them to the same strange video game textures displayed on the phone. The brilliantly trained military fighting ski masked men begin dashing and darting back and forth down the alleyway, moving forward as the ground underneath them transforms and moves with them, sort of like a treadmill with more and more graphic footage of sidewalks and streets begin rolling beneath their feet as they move along forward. They come to an abrupt stop as the virtual reality video game forces them to confront something.

A WILD DALLAS POLICE OFFICER APPEARS!

The pink phone then immediately shuts down and disappears, in it's place stands a police officer standing out in the middle of nowhere along with the previous city back ground, just doing his job. Our three minions of mass murder open fire, sending an array of sprayed bullets throughout various areas of his body. So much so that chunks of flesh sail through the air as if an explosion of bullets nearly shattered him to pieces. The phone re appears and the music, even louder than before, transforms them back on the hunt moving forward again. They continue moving tactically like a pack of trained marines. Until eventually the game stops them again, forcing them to engage in another target.

A WILD BATON ROUGE POLICE OFFICER APPEARS!

The phone disappears again and the same outcome as previously takes place again, bullets tearing through an innocent police officers head and each limb, expect this time one of the vicious murdering masked men tosses a grenade up at the target, the phone re appears immediately as it passes through the possible dimensional portal, therefore we are unfortunately unable to see or hear any type of expected explosion. They march on for a bit longer before being forced to stop yet again.

A WILD __________ POLICE OFFICER APPEARS!

The phone disappears again to reveal another officer of the law standing proudly dressed completely in blue, the only difference this time is the officer himself is also black. His skin color is so black and his presence is so close to us that when his slaughter takes place, his blood and body parts fade the cell phone screen out to a mixture of red and black. The haunting melody of the Pikachu song still vibrates on and on through the speakers of the pink iphone and lingers forever.


Six different cameras soar through the air with robot mechanisms, trying to capture every sick and depraved angle of our vision, as it invites us to gaze our eyes upon the studio filming of a QVC home shopping television network studio. In the middle of a giant white background with white floors and white ceilings, is a white couch. Rested on each ends of this couch is the completely nude and big floppy titty nude celebrities known to be Unknown Soldier's current girlfriends, Roxy Rotten and Hillary Clinton. The two of them both sensually massaging with both their tongues and their hands a giant 12 inch metal dildo. The same dildo, in fact, that Ghost Tank used to shove up Soldier's anal cavity during their match a few Warfare's ago. The two girls can no longer contain their jealousy, as they begin fighting over which one should be able to deep throat the dildo that had been all the way up Soldier's ass. Still not washed or cleaned because that is the way that Ghost Tank would want it to be. The director, sitting behind his tall giant wooden chair, is revealed to be the one and only Greggo, Unknown Soldier's long time in ring manager. He is forced to cut the scene so that the girls can hopefully get back under control.

Greggo: "Soldier, get the fuck in here and get a leash on your two whores, will ya! I'm trying to sell this damn thing and they keep fighting over it! We're trying to keep the fans more interactive with your promos, just like you wanted, and so this time we're going to let them bid to see who will pay the most for this beautiful piece of XWF history! A piece of memorabilia from one of the most Xtreme matches for the most Xtreme champion in the history of the XWF, I must say!"

"Unknown Soldier is seen off in the background, wandering around aimlessly and holding Roxy Rotten's pink iphone up in the air while staring at it not blinking, practically gazing all the way through the screen, most likely hooked on the new craze of Pokemon. Soldier licks the front of the screen and Greggo interrupts....

Greggo: "What the hell are you doing?!"

Unknown Soldier: "I told you 666 times now, I'm trying to catch fucking C-Diff remember!"

Greggo: "You do realize that C-Diff isn't a Pokemon, right?"

Unknown Soldier: "Of course I know that, but as you know, Roxy Rotten has C-diff and so I figured since it's highly contagious I would put my lips all over where she puts her fingers on her phone, ya know?"

Greggo: "I see, but why play Pokemon, I thought you told me that game was for a certain category of <img src="https://i.imgur.com/pUgtAVa.gif"> that if they were to separate into their own sub category of the term, PokeFags, that it would still be an even greater insult to every one else that would still be categorized as a <img src="https://i.imgur.com/pUgtAVa.gif">, even more so then just the word in and of itself has been?"

Unknown Soldier: "I know, I know. But you see, I just found out my match stipulation at Leap of Faith will involve me being forced around to 38 sick and disgusting dive bar pubs in England somewhere. Probably places that wont even have running water and try to serve me beer that doesn't have the word 'America' written right on it. So what if it's owned by Belgiums, it still says 'America' right on the damn thing! It's just an unoriginal and boring stipulation that probably only Ghost Tank would find that cool, and I'd be willing to beg to differ since no electricity is even involved. So, since kicking MacBeth's ass won't be very entertaining in this en devour, I figured I should find some way to enjoy myself. That's why I'll be bringing Roxy Rotten's pink iphone with me."

At that exact moment Roxy Rotten stands up most abruptly and cups her hands around her butt. She makes off quickly to the rest rooms, with bits of diff drippin' down her leg. Hillary Clinton then makes off behind the white stage screen with the enormous metal dildo and disappears from sight. Moaning like a screaming banshee in the background somewhere.


"You're not even the first MacBitch, bitch. Which makes you worse than McBitch, the Irish super bitch. Think about that for a moment, will you for me Chris? Your bitchness came after someone else's bitchness long before your bitch ass began to exist. An Irishman, no less! How can you call yourself an Englishmen, you should be ashamed to allow an Irish to get their first! You know what is sad that I have to admit to myself now Chris? Is that Vinnie Lane is actually right in his last promo. Why is is that in every promo cut by The Union these days we have to re-live how much of a failure they have become. Reminding us about all these great matches though fought long ago in the past. That they reached their peak in a somewhat miraculous term of events that led them to be tag team champions. Which they promptly lost to Peter Gilmour and a <img src="https://i.imgur.com/pUgtAVa.gif"> so dumb he can't even write a decent rap or play basketball rendering him useless. Scully tagged out of that one, but conveniently tagged in to sign up for a Gauntlet in which a night that didn't even involve him in a previous match that evening like most the rest of us. A night when his fuckboi, yeah I said it, manager or friend or whatever Archie Lawson would conveniently be there to help him. Both those douchebags in the main event at Leap of Faith will get there's in due time... In due time...."

Soldier laughs super wickedly as all fucking hell and to all the high waters.

"But first I have to settle for the short list and take care of Scully's gayer half Chris MacBITCH! Which when Peter first insulted you in such a way, I never really thought it through much until now, and you know what, I think Peter was onto something. You see, this kid can't even control the remote from a woman let alone wear any type of pants in a relationship. Bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks, Chris. You've certainly got a lot of fucking learning to do, bitch, and if you still haven't taken my word for it I suggest you pick up Luca Arezegotti's fresh new mix tape. Where I'm sure he explains a lot about this subject in his sick flows. Snoop Doggy Dogg's older shit if you're looking for a more nostalgic album on the subject of hoes and tricks. In fact, Chris would rather live up to that stupid male stereotype that instead of putting a woman in check he gets distracted by sizzling pork fat. Well, that English fuckwad better enjoy the last bits of pork that he still can.

Because after Bre-Exit, it won't be long until Sharia law comes to Great Britain and eating pork will be outlawed! Why do you then insist on telling the story about how your father used to take you down to the bar, slip a roofie in your coke, and then take advantage of your anus in your sleep. Is that perhaps why you began underage drinking at a bar and became an alcoholic at such an early age? Is that why every promo you cut you go through a vicious circle of hangover to drunk again back to hangover. Don't be such a bitch, real alcoholics never get hungover because their constantly drunk. You fucking suck at even being a worthless drunk you good for nothing little MacBITCH you, and we always have to hear you bitching and complaining about how much your hangover hurts all the time! Did the poor little boy drink too much? Save your tears <img src="https://i.imgur.com/pUgtAVa.gif">, nobody cares!

Also, getting drunk all the time and staring off into the distance over a banister like a character on Dawson's Creek isn't going to help you become the Xtreme Champion. Crystal Methamphetamine, now that's the drug of champions! To sum up your speech in your last promo, that didn't even involve making hardly any digs at me, because that's what a MacBITCH would do, I can basically sum up in a much shorter version than you by saying 'The Union is Unifying.' In fact, you should fucking quote that and pay me royalties for that shit, Chris. You know what I say to that, 'The <img src="https://i.imgur.com/pUgtAVa.gif"> are Frolicking' because now tush is back after returning from a retirement match that seems to have put the winning contestant in that match, Trax, into the real retirement home.

Which is pretty fucking ironic when you come to think about it, but I guess that's just the way the crumpet crumbles, so to speak. Mr. Chris MacBITCH better come out here and put together some more coherent promos in the near future. There's so many slurs and stumped sentences in his last one that I'm not even going to forgive him for being drunk and/or speaking a strange British accent. You better get your shit together kid, or I'll be embarrassing you so badly here shortly in the near future, that you'll yearn for another match and war of words with Peter Gilmour, just so that you can possibly save any shred of dignity you still have left. However, there is and never will be anything that can save you from keeping the permanent label of........ MacBITCH!"