Robbie Bourbon recently apprehended Strawberry Fields in the Charlottesville Mall, mastermind behind the attacks in DC. He recently sped off in his vehicle with the culprit secured in his trunk.

The only thing left to do now is go win a match.

THE RESOLUTION

We open to see Robbie Bourbon inside his bitchin' Challenger, zooming down an empty street, dodging broken down panzer tanks and downed messerschmidts as he does, the nazi presence in Charlottesville routed. For now, at least. His computer screen Einstein is calmly humming to himself to drown out the screeching coming from his trunk.

Damn, never took one in before, this damn fool is making my ears bleed.

Ya, she ist very very shrill.

Robbie presses a green button on the console. The stereo blares for a moment, coming from the rear, and we hear a jolt of classic rock start playing then stop after about ten seconds. The screaming has stopped.

I figure that many decibels will have you enjoy quiet for a little while.

Zat's a very rockin' stereo you got there! You installed dat before setting off to catch ze bad guy, ya?

Indeed. A killer stereo is easy to wire and install.

I'm supposed to tell you about some promo alert from Chris Chaos.

Oh, okay, go ahead and play it.

The screen displays the latest of Chris Chaos's promos for Robbie to watch as he drives. Or at least listen to. Robbie sits through it, a smile on his face the entire time.

That, that was pretty cool.

I liked how you walked around an airport jiggling an action figure of yourself and posing it.

Like, I wish I was in an airport playing with toys.

Guess you couldn't find a set of tits to play with, huh?

Man, that's an awesome airport with conveniently placed action figures in the gift shop. Duty free! Wow, that's a deal and a half. Nice to see you've extended yourself to the clearance, bin, Chris. There were an awful lot of your toys on display in there, even on sale. That's because no kid in their right mind looks and sees a Chris Chaos toy and thinks 'I hope I get that one!' I've sold so many action figures they were out of stock in that store, didn't you notice? I've sold so many toys and playsets and action figures off my name alone. The convention exclusive Bourbon Man Han Solo. The Donkey Kong Rape Van, the Dojo Playset, the Elimination Chamber Playset (remember, Chris, I sold that damn thing and the hole in the top, not you), and the Black Hand collector's sets all had special edition variants of me. You won't find a single one on eBay, though, because they're actually so collected and beloved by their owners they'd never dare let them go.

Chris Chaos toys are on sale at Wal-Mart in a buy-one-get-one bin. Nice of you to run around and play with them. Chris Chaos hasn't gotten laid in so long he played with himself in an airport gift shop. Literally.

You dislike zis Chris fellow?

He's a fuck for what he did to that poor girl. Unwarranted, then he throws up a billion excuses as to why he should do it rather than owning up to it as a scumbag move. He thinks his major flaws include confidence in himself and pride. They're flaws, but besides his inability to get over himself, his inability to accept change, and new beginnings, instead of trying something different, is what his major flaw is. Repent, Chris. To yourself. You can give it a shot, it's all on you. You owe it to yourself to do something for yourself, and I don't mean running around an airport playing with an action figure. You can do big boy stuff now. You can go tie shopping, or perhaps dine in a restaurant, or maybe even visit a concert. Nope, you chose none of those things. You chose to steal a girl. You chose to exploit the poor and practiced identity politics in the process. You then helped sell dozens more of my girlfriend's sex doll, putting enough cash in her pocket that she just bought a helicopter. The power elite in DC sure do love their Spermsoaker© reservior technology. You think I'm supposed to feel ashamed because my girlfriend is strong enough to make a heap of cash off of having a great ass? Wait, you don't get strong women. You don't get any women, but even saying you look for those who are "emotionally available", exposing low self esteem, so low they had full body reconstruction to look like Theo Pryce's wife, is proof that A) you're a scumbag that the people are going to pay good money to see get torn piece by piece once you're in the fucking ring with a god damned tiger among men, prowling, pouncing, huge, and graceful, a fucking wrecking machine put on this green earth, and B) you like to take the easy way out.

Man, I reckon that's a bit of a run on sentence. Hate the syntax all you want, you got the message, right?

I could do this forever. Week in, week out, line up Chris Chaos for Robbie Bourbon to go out and throw around like a fucking rag doll. Another peice of meat on the fucking slab, laid out to get the big animals out and sniffin', tenderized, spiced, and served up for the fucking people. Robbie Bourbon come to cook and smoke your fucking meat off the bone and onto a silver platter for the world and universe to behold.

It's going to be the first time someone has wanted you in their mouth in quite some time.

That's all a metaphor, though, you get it? Like, I'm not literally going to eat you. I'm not literally a tiger. You literally haven't had someone want you in their mouth in quite some time. Oh, man, I guess I'm making all these allusions to food because I'm fat and have spaghetti sauce for blood.

Well, you never have made me bleed, Chris, so I get why you'd be confused.

But seriously, that's the best insult you've got? You're crossing words with the magma spewing, venom blasting flamethrower of the XWF, the big bad, big bad of big bads, and you're seriously going to waggle a fucking action figure around and say "you have spaghetti sauce for blood".

Chris Chaos is like the fucking CD selection at your local Wal-Mart, won't find a fuck anywhere.

Chris Chaos found his virginity again.

Chris Chaos couldn't find a date on a calendar.

Chris Chaos has creeped out the staff at the local porn DVD and sex toy shop with his infinite knowledge of porn vids.

You're all alone, Chris. That's all you are. That there is another flaw you don't acknowledge.

You've turned your back on anybody who ever thought you were worth a fuck in AX3, all because you couldn't hack the fact that Jim Caedus was better than you. You turned your back on the only woman who loved you because of a tantrum over not winning a shot at the fucking tag belts. A shot you blew for me and Jack. Cain's still pissed about that, don't get me wrong. Maybe after I throw you around for an hour and go on to most likely headline a Pay-Per-View against a fellow Motherfucker in James Raven, Jack Cain's going to need a body to bust up, and you, sir, are just that body.

Man, for someone who goes around talks about how he was robbed of opportunity after opportunity, it's a damn shame you fucking ruin opportunities for others.

If it hasn't set in, Chris, I'm going to beat your ass with authority this Saturday.

Go ahead and quote me on that. You've already quoted me a dozen times just to get someone to stay awake through one of your shitty fucking promos. Maybe you can play with a beach ball while sticking your dick in a Sock 'Em Bopper until climax during your next one or something.

Robbie pulls the car over to the side of the road, a line of police cars with their lights flashing in front of him. Robbie exits his car and walks to the trunk. He pulls out Strawberry Fields.

I will get you for this, Robbie Bourbon.

Sure you will.

Robbie tosses the girl to the police.

She needs help, constant surveillance, and she is not allowed to have her hands in front of her for any reason. Not even to wipe after going to the bathroom.

I swear, Robbie Bourbon, you haven't seen the last of me.

Robbie turns.

And nobody has ever seen the last of me. Not you, not Chris Chaos, not the whole fucking Universe. I'm a nonstop fucking locomotive burning on diesel fuel.