Robbie Bourbon is challenging Dillinger for the Intercontinental Championship at Leap of Faith. While Dillinger has been vocal in the week leading up to the match, the Bourbon camp has been eerily quiet.
GOTTA CATCH 'EM ALL
We open to see Robbie in his office surrounded by his closest confidants, the Bourbon Men. Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, Ash, Robbie's personal hair stylist, and Robo-Rob, the robot from Rocky IV painted to look like it's wearing a Robbie Bourbon mask, are seated, looking bored, while Robbie sits at his desk.
Robbie, when can we go...
In a minute. Jesus, if I knew an addicting phone app would have made you all want to go on one of my training patrols tonight, I would have invented one. Shit.
But, dude, it's awesome...
Hushabee. You know what's awesome?
Me drilling Dillinger through the God damned roof so hard the skin from his face peels off, like he's John Travolta AND Nicholas Cage.
Huh?
From Face-Off.
Huh?
Fuck you. It's going to be awesome taking that little bitch and whore his body out on display for the whole fucking world to view. Dilly, you will feel more taken advantage of than every memory you have of your father cramming his fist up your ass while you peeled back his foreskin with your lips and slurped spooge 'til mommy came home and wondered what you did to spoil your dinner.
When Dillinger's poppa died of autoerotic asphyxiation, Dillinger diligently still finished off the fresh corpse with a flourish of the tongue, a dainty, gentle jaw, and a tear of sweet lament that this was the last time he would kiss his father. Swallowed, too.
I think it was a week or two ago. Can't be sure.
And it doesn't stop the fact that I will make Dilly a greater victim than any of that horrible shit even could.
The beating you are going to get has nothing to do with your character, your moral fiber, or your ethos. See, the justice that will occur, the right that will be wronged, is the fact you have the Intercontinental Championship belt around your waist. The title I got fucked out of because Pest couldn't handle a bigger star getting a shinier toy. Ever hear of Pest? He'll tell you he's the worst thing to ever step into the ring. I proved he was a simple public servant.
See, that wrong got corrected. Pest got his. Now some weirdo is running around pretending to be Pest from the future is insisting he is the Black Hand. Not true. The Black Hand are with me.
Now we correct the big mistake. Baby, don't you worry about a thing, daddy is coming to get you. I'm coming to beat the shit out of the pretender, Dillinger, who would never have even come close enough to smell you if I never got robbed. I want you to remember that, Dilly, because the whole fucking universe already knows that if I had my title a year ago, I would still have it today. No bullshit Ginger Snaps fluke, no Morbid Angel, no Trax, no you. Just one fucking name listed as Intercontinental Champion.
Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon.
As Robbie finishes, the camera turns to show each of his Bourbon Men with their attention on their phones.
There's a Charizard around!
Oh, shit!
Robbie whips his phone out and all the Bourbon Men run outside the office. They traipse through the dojo around dozens of other Bourbon Men all snooping around, looking for a Charizard. Pokemon Go is very popular these days. Robbie and the Bourbon Men step outside and start swiping on their phones.
Got it!
Me too!
Shit! It ran away!
Got 'em.
The camera catches up to Robbie. We see him renaming his Charizard to C. Diff.
Well, looks like I caught C. Diff. Heh.
How is that funny?
I dunno, I just figured it was a running gag for the XWF viewership to get into.
Okay. Well, should we go on patrol?
The camera pans to show the streets are full of life. People are all walking around with their cell phones in hand. A chirp is heard from Robbie's phone, as he swipes one finger unenthusiastically.
Eh, it's a Pidgey, no big deal, I just need the stardust and XP at this point.
With a series of beeps and boops, we hear the Pokemon get caught within Robbie's phone. It zooms again to show he is naming the Pidgey "C. Diff".
Heh, now there's the trailblazer of the XWF, man-of-the-people action. First motherfucker in XWF to ever catch C. Diff twice.
But, your patrol...
Huh? Are you kidding me? The streets are flooded with people walking around with their phones out with a built in camera app within Pokemon Go ready to gather on the spot evidence of any crime, it's the safest this country has been in decades. Fuck the election...
Robbie reaches out and grabs a random passer-by who was too wrapped up in their phone to notice a bus coming their way and pulls them onto the sidewalk.
Fuck the race war...
The camera tilts to show a person walking off a rooftop, still gazing into their phone and muttering the word "Hitmonlee" to themselves, and Robbie nonchalantly catching them as they fall and setting them on the ground, where they continue their Mr. Magoo-like journey down the block.
Fuck terrorism...
Robbie swiftly picks up a pedestrian who was about to walk into another one and places them on the other side.
Pokemon Go is the tits. Big, floppy, wonderful tits I just want to stick my face into and explain that motorboat is a verb to, and I'm Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon, the biggest, baddest, nastiest, meanest, the hardest, toughest, rootin-tootin sumbitch in the universe.
Not some fucking lil' scamp with a knife.
There's no running on the rooftop, Dilly. No hiding. Just you, me, and a bad attitude, only thing is, when all is said and done, the only thing that'll be on top of that roof after the match is me and my attitude.
A car careens in the road into a lamp post as the driver screams "Squirtle" at the top of his lungs. Dozens gather around underneath the falling lamp post and prepare to catch the Squirtle. Robbie walks over, one hand out, swiping with his thumb, the other hand grabbing said lamp post and lifting it. He then performs a one handed caber toss, dropping the lamp post into an empty lot across the street from his dojo. A click is heard from his phone.
Got the Squirtle! 386!
Robbie slides his phone into his pocket.
Alright, guys, let's go jack up our endorphins with physical activity!
The rest of the Bourbon Men nod and smile, then turn back to their phones. Robbie then starts to walk off down the street as they make six paces and stop dead. Robbie continues onward.
It's a gorgeous evening, no reason to...
Robbie stops dead and sees amid the dozens of people catching Pokemon, an 8 feet tall, very slender green figure with a large head. It looks around menacingly.
Mwahahaha, that's right! With all of you distracted by your Pokemon Go app, I can finally start my crime wave as these brainless dullards cavort about! That is right, I, the The Amazing Rando, am no longer in their notice for being eight feet tall, green, and with an apple head that makes me look like some kind of weirdo.
I see you, sparky.
The Amazing Rando stops dead as he sees Robbie standing there looking right at him.
So, what exactly is your big masterwork evil plan, hmm? I mean, Dillinger is going around lopping heads off, saying he wants to commit some kind of genocide against my fanbase, which is about as cliche as it gets with most pulp villain types, but you, geeze...
I am not a pulp villain! I am the Amazing Rando, master criminal! Mwahahahaha!
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sure you are. And Dillinger is awful because he's just knocking off a bunch of crappy movie cliches. Violent ones, but seriously, he's a dollar store version of some Thomas Harris character somewhere. You're actually far more intriguing.
Stop bringing up this Dillinger fellow, I'm the Amazing Rando, and...
Robbie smiles as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, showing the camera a familiar screen.
As he does, several people groan and complain and echo the word; the server is down. As they do, they all look up and see the Amazing Rando.
"Oh, man, that guy looks <img src="https://i.imgur.com/pUgtAVa.gif"> ."
"Yeah, you look stupid."
Gadzooks! Public humiliation, my greatest weakness!
As the Amazing Rando is shocked into horror, Robbie charges at him his right arm cocked back, fist balled up.
MOTHERFUCKER!
Robbie swings his fist forward, connecting squarely on the jaw of the Amazing Rando, who drops like a sack of crap to the ground.
Well, that's one silly bastard down this week. Jolly green bitch.
Robbie turns around and starts to whistle the tune to "London Bridges Falling Down" as he walks away. The people all start snapping pictures and taping the happening as the police show up on the scene, presumably to arrest the Amazing Rando for no other reason than not being white.
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