Robbie Bourbon defends the Hart Championship against the Wizard, a man considerably larger than Robbie, at Warfare.

When the going gets tough, the tough get wrecking.

THE MONSTER MASH

We see the bridge of Robbie's space ship. It's barren. We go to see the engineering deck, and it too is empty. However, inexplicably, Robbie's ship seems to have a thriving night spot as crewmen are congregated having drinks and carrying on. In one corner, at a large table, we see B.O.B. along the Bourbon Men. Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, Ash, Robbie's stylist, Guy Fieri, right mayor of Flavortown, Miss Fury, the true mastermind of the XWF, Money Oswald, the wealthiest man in the universe, Michael Graves, skeevy pedo master of the dark arts, Jenny Myst, the debonair destroyer, and Thunder Knuckles, the Relentless one, are all sitting, enjoying blue colored beverages, as one does in outer space.

God damn, what a fucking beat down! I have never seen any shit like that before!

Robbie don't fuck around when it come to white supremacists, bro.

I see!

True enough, but regardless of what already happened, B.O.B. is in even better position than never now that we have the Hart Championship!

Everybody takes a sip of their beverages. Everyone makes a face displaying a modicum of disgust.

Ugh.

Yeah, big man doesn't drink that much.

I can tell. The only thing he has stocked in his bar is Blue Curacao.

And his only mixer is Ecto Cooler.

Where did he get so much? I thought they discontinued that stuff!

They did. This is all vintage Ecto Cooler.

Fuck, we should probably get some better booze for this place.

I tried.

Our beverage budget went towards the eBay auction for the Ecto Cooler.

Damn.

The whole table sits in silence for a moment. Thunder Knuckles stands up and raises his glass.

Well, I propose a god damned toast! To Robbie Bourbon, Hart Champion!

Money Oswald stands up.

To Robbie Bourbon, Warfare MVP!

Miss Fury stands up.

To Robbie Bourbon, making B.O.B. look good!

Michael Graves stands up.

To Robbie Bourbon, even though I am about to steal his car again.

Jenny Myst stands up. She hasn't taken her eyes off her phone while holding her glass of Blue Curacao and Ecto Cooler.

Yeah.

The Bourbon Men stand up and drink with B.O.B. As they do, Robbie walks in with Fuchsia. The assembly of B.O.B. and Bourbon Men all holler for Robbie. Robbie puts a hand up.

C'mon, what's all this?

They're celebrating!

Robbie rolls his eyes and shrugs. He gives a thumbs up to the rest of B.O.B. and the Bourbon Men. He then holds up the Hart Championship belt.

Robbie, give us a speech!

Aw, shucks, don't kiss my ass guys, I will be doing plenty of self aggrandizement to an extent here in a minute.

Robbie winks at the camera. He turns back to the Bourbon Men.

Oh, shit, you gotta defend that title!

Yes, I do. It's part of being a champion.

So I'll defend this every Warfare, much like my Warfare MVP status. I am both Warfare MVP and Hart Champion.

Awesome!

C'mon, give us a promo.

Oh, alright.

The Bourbon Men and B.O.B. all sit and watch. Robbie clears his throat, gives Fuchsia a peck on the cheek as she passes in front of him to go sit with the rest of the group, and looks at the camera.

So, Halloween is just around the corner. I guess the best thing for fans, especially those of Warfare, where anything can and will happen, is to give them a match between two monsters. To big, scary figures. In one corner, myself, the big bad big bad of big bads, the Sultan of Smacktalk, the Wednesday Night Wrecker, and now, let's face it, the Ace of Harts, and in the other corner we have the Wizard. A mountain of a man. A goliath of a man. Taller than me. Heavier than me. Physically larger than me. But, still, never bigger than me. Now, I get some of you are probably asking yourself, how does that make sense?

Well, let me tell you all a little story.

See, over the summer, the Wizard was primed and set to take the Xtreme Championship from someone here in the company. At one point, some schlub lost it before their scheduled match. Then, when he confronted the Xtreme champ head on, he choked. He hasn't really been seen since. Now, that man is definitely six-foot-nine. He's also over four hundred pounds. I'm a still hoist you up and splatter you on the fucking ground with a Robbiebomb that causes a fucking tsunami near Argentina. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. I would know, I've fallen, and really fucking hard before.

That said, Wiz, I'm your opportunity.

I'm that rebound. You couldn't get the Xtreme Championship, but now you get a token shot at the Hart Championship because, well, you haven't shown you can get it done when it matters. It's like the Xtreme Championship was your girlfriend, and you almost got in her pants, but then she was around Robert Main's waist so fast, sitting on his lap, and you gotta get back out there and find the next one! There's plenty of fish in the sea, after all.

Thing is, the rebound isn't the one you're dating. Not long time.

You're going to have a soiree for the Hart Championship. A little rebound relationship.

Then I'm going to beat you and walk out with the Hart Championship. It's a one night stand for the Wizard, until you find yourself fucked, done, and ready for the next day and a shower.

Now, I mean no direct disrespect. I don't care why you dress the way you do, how ugly you are under that hood, or even what your real name is. You have promise, or had it, and now you gotta prove you still have that, promise. Some kind of upside.

As such, I wouldn't feel right making this a normal match.

Living down you were pinned by Robbie Bourbon isn't something to be ashamed of, but getting pinned right now doesn't make you look all that great.

Plus, it's Halloween, we're at Warfare, I'm the MVP, I figured, fuck it, let's throw a Halloween Party!

B.O.B. and the Bourbon Men hoot and cheer.

That's right, in Hamburg, we're throwing a Wednesday Night War Fright! Everybody is invited. Come one, come all!

Wizard, you're the guest of honor. Hell, we're going to have a blast in that ring come Wednesday. See, I don't think I'll be pinning you at all this Wednesday.

Robbie gives a smug smile.

Because we're going to have ourselves a good old fashioned Casket Match.

What the fuck?

Thunder Knuckles looks surprised but impressed. He's also standing.

Yep. I thought it would be fucking awesome if I did.

It is fucking awesome that you did!

Thanks.

So, Wizard, come into my office on the 28th. Polish up that staff, iron your robes, cast a spell or whatever. I'm not going to pin you, big man.

I am going to put you down.

The rest of the Bourbon Men and B.O.B. cheer. In a poof of green smoke, Graves disappears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We cut to see Graves in the driver's seat of a 2004 Toyota Truck.

What?