Footsteps down a long hallway.

The shuttering sound of another spotlight coming to life.

Another doorway illuminated.

Flynn’s feet shuffle, unshaken as he’s led deeper into the inner machinations of this facility.

Striding forward.

In the corners of his eyes, cameras in the corners of the hallway…

Gently gliding, following his movem-

Flynn stops dead in his tracks.

For a split-second, the cameras kept moving. Then, quickly tried to adjust back onto him.

Flynn grins, pointing a finger gun into the lens of the camera.

“Caughtcha.”

“So… these cameras aren’t automated.” Flynn turns the barrel of his finger-gun upwards and scratches his cheek.

“Which means… hellooooo, Professor Ned Kaye.”

Flynn’s hands shoot in front of him…

As he delivers the pettiest golf clap. Slooooooooow and dripping with sarcasm.

“This whole long-hallway, spotlit-doors… REEEEEEEEAL spooky, Prof. You’re giving me a case of the willies…”

Flynn sticks out his arm and rolls up his sleeve, demonstrating his lack-of-goosebumps for the camera.

“Buuuuuuut…”

Flynn sighs, rolling his sleeve back down.

“How about we skip to the big jump-scare at the end, followed by me snapping your fingers off one by one until you’re screaming at decibels only dogs can hear?”

Camera beeps…

Then turns downwards.

…..

The door closes.

And the one behind Flynn opens.

In the darkness, Flynn’s ears perk.

Behind him, gentle footsteps.

...Actually… rhythmic… hopping?

Like a boxer.

Flynn turns.

A shadowy figure approaches.

“ты меня помнишь?”

Flynn cracks his neck.

***

“BRICK BY FUCKING BRICK, I’LL TEAR DOWN THIS WALL.”

A wacked-out United Korean Peace Officer, screaming and convulsing, spittle dripping from his chin, dives at the wall, swiping desperately. His fingernails start to peel off his fingers as he tries to yank the barrier down panel-by-panel.


“I FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL HIM. I NEEEEEEEEEEED HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM.”

As he does, behind him, a hand reaches into the front pocket of camouflage fatigues… Retrieving a white glove.

UK’s nailbeds bleed as he presses his face as close to the source of the FXW wavelengths as possible, shrinking the distance between himself and the other FXWer by any means necessary.

Whip! In a flash, he is pulled back a foot! UK spins to strike reflexively!

But, NK ducks, avoiding the feral man’s swipe! Aaaaaaand…

THWAP! White glove to UK’s face. UK blinks, stunned, patting a small red impact on his cheek.

“Get ahold of yourself, Comrade UK!” NK tsk-tsks, tucking the white glove back into his front pocket. “Such lack of decorum is not befitting a True Korean, regardless of dimension!”

UK rapidly blinks, before examining himself. He blushes sheepishly, tremoring hands striving to straighten his tattered collar. “...I… You are correct, Comrade NK. But… I am compelled to reach my fellow FXWer. The closing proximity is the most… profound ecstasy.”

NK nods. “Indeed! Hence your function in this circumstance, helping me find FXW’s Professor Ned Kaye! However, we cannot proceed thoughtlessly, lest we step into a trap.” NK presses his fist into his palm to emphasize his point.

He spins dramatically, still mid-monologue! “In order to find Professor Kaye, we must be precise!” …Something catches UK’s eye. He immediately walks away. “We must take in our surroundings completely, capturing the full scope of this arena! Only then, can we slice through their defenses both seen and unseen! Like a knife through butter! Like a key in a lock! Or a…” …NK snaps his fingers, trying to conceive of a third simile.

As he does, UK returns, holding a full-size filing cabinet above his head.

“Filing cabinet through the ventilation shaft.”

“Haha! Yes, like a filing cabinet through…” NK purses his lips. “No, I don’t believe that is an appropriate idiom. We wish to be more covert th-”

WHAM! SKKKKKKKKRRRRRRRRR!


Metal tears and buckles, the rusty ventilation shaft, previously a covered column in the corner of the room, sliced in half… The bottom section collapses and crumbles inward twistingly…

Before NK can retort, UK is already scampering up what's left, his legs kicking underneath him like a rabid racoon, before he’s disappeared up the vent… His hands and feet echoing in the tunnel as he gets further and further away…

“...Hmm.”

NK sits down atop the filing cabinet. He rolls open one of the drawers.

A blue document reading ‘PROJECT ROBOY’...

***

Both Flynn and NK stand before a chalkboard.

The board is filled-to-the-brim with diagrams and plans for tandem maneuvers, designed to pick apart the slow, sloppy tandem of Marf and Charlie Nickles.

Still, Flynn seems troubled.

“Hmm.”

“Does something bother you, Mark Flynn?”

“Didja see TK’s Cannabis Cup promo, NK?”

“Yes! Thunder Knuckles continues to trumpet his SINGLE accomplishment... From six months ago. As time goes on and Comrade Knuckles has less recent accomplishments, it grows sadder each passing day. Like one too braggadocious of his peewee football days.”

“Ha, yep, all six Bastards definitely carry ‘I peaked in 5th grade… and sniffed glue in 4th’ energy. But, I meant the claim that their Warfare ad was designed to distract us.”

“Did it succeed, Mark Flynn?”

“Nope. We used it as fuel to stomp the fuck outta all Bastards. But… we can hit them even harder. And on their turf..”


“Ahahaha, perfect, Mark Flynn! How would we do that?”

“We hit the Bastards where they call home, NK.”

NK scratches his chin, pondering that riddle.

…

Then, the pair snap their fingers and point at each other.

“Television!”

***

You’re Watching ESPN! The Worldwide Leader in Sports!

After this, part 2 in our 3-part retrospective on The Arm Collectors: What the Fuck was their deal?”

First, we go to Denzel Porter’s Through the Announce Table!



The camera swoops down from the top of the studio. Eventually panning in on a man oozing with confidence and exuding knowledge about every facet of the industry…



“BREAKING NEWS! Haha, for real, though. This is Through The Announce Table! We’re talking shop with the wrestling industry’s top minds, getting takes on upcoming matches, wrestling history and the industry at large. I am your host, Denzel Porter.”

Denzel clicks a few index cards against his desk, pushing the first one up to his eyes.

“Our first panelist… He’s been a backstage segment interviewer for 23 years. He’s also set the record for most sequential appearances where he’s sustained an injury. Please welcome XWF’s Steve Sayors.”

“Thanks for having me, Denzel! No one will hurt me, right?”

“Maybe your feelings, Steve!”

“Don’t joke, Denzel. I have a family history of sprained feelings. My grandfather died in the war from a broken heart after being left out of a firing squad execution of his platoon.”

…

“Ooooookay. And joining me also, a thankless component of XWF programming for 23 years, internationalizing the product and bringing the show to speakers of the 2nd most popular language on the planet. They’ve never been seen before on American television, so please welcome… the XWF Chinese Announce Team!”

…The camera stays on Denzel.

“Camera 2.”

…After a moment, Denzel presses his earpiece closer to his cheek.

“What do you mean, No one’s there?”

…Denzel’s brow scrunches in confusion… Then, he shrugs, regain composure.

“Okay, I’m getting word that we’re experiencing technical difficulties. The Chinese Announce Team is dealing with a… door problem? Allegedly, the doorknob to their dressing room is aflame. Spontaneous combustion We have technicians working to resolve that as we speak.”

…Denzel again presses the earpiece, perplexed.

“Backup guests? Two guys are here, ready to go?”

…

“I’m no detective but that’s suspicious, right?”

…

“No, yeah, fine, use ‘em. I’m not running a half-hour show with just Steve Sayors. That’s ratings poison.”

…Sayors gets a nosebleed after that insult.

“All right, folks, we’re playing the cards we’re dealt! And you viewers are in for a treat.” Porter points to the camera excitedly. We cut to the back of a chair.

“We have the King of the Mid-Carders! One-half of the XWF Tag Champions, Mark Flynn!”

The chair spins around and Mark Flynn’s sitting in it. He delivers a finger gun to the camera.

“Denzel. Pleasure as always.”

Camera cuts to an empty chair.

“And occupying the final seat, one of the most controversial superstars in the wrestling industry! The only thing about him non-controversial is his success! The other half of the XWF Tag Champions! North Korean War Criminal!”

From behind the chair, NK walks up and over, slinking cozily into the seat like a snake. “Annyeong, Denzel Porter!”

Denzel rubs his hands together, excitedly. “All right, boys, let’s talk shop!”

Sayors clears his throat. “Um, Mister Porter?”

“Problem, Steve?”

“With all due respect to Mister Flynn and Mister… War Criminal.”

“It’s actually Mister Criminal. ‘Korean War’ is my middle name.”

“I thought this show’s premise is ‘Announcers and Journalists talk wrestling’... Not ‘wrestlers’.”

“Fair criticism. Flynn, retort?”

“Y’know, someone with Steve’s expertise should know that I commentated on Monday Night Madness the month of May 2014!”

Ding! A green light flashes on Flynn’s podium.

“That is correct!”

“And sometimes I’d even talk about wrestling!”

“…What about Mr… Criminal? Does he have any experience with journalism?”

“I’ve interrogated more than my fair share of journalists, Mister Porter! I could peel a newsman open like a grape. Take Comrade Sayors here…”

“Don’t touch me! I have a pen knife!”

BZZZZZZT! Sayors’ podium flashes red.

“Oh! Sorry, Steve, that’s a foul!”

“For new viewers, this is a debate show! We’ll tolerate any take, no matter how hot, but what we won’t tolerate is threats!”

“Because threatening to hurt someone is a crime?”

“No, it’s bad debate tactics! Duh! Stick to the topic, Sayors!”

“Um… What happens if someone… fouls out?”

“Three fouls? Dropped from the show!”

“…Oh, okay.”

“And through SEVENTY TABLES!”

“…What?”

“Beneath each of our panelists chairs is a stack of SEVENTY ANNOUNCE TABLES! INCLUDING TEN ON FIRE, SEVEN COVERED IN THUMBTACKS AND ONE THAT ONE WHICH THE LAST SUPPER WAS CONDUCTED!”

“…How did you get the table from the Last Supper?”

“Auction.”

“…Why?”

“Well, I only had 69 tables for the show and I like even numbers.”

“Bu-”

“No more questions!”

…

“Now! Question one!”

“But you sa-”

BZZZZZT! Sayors has two red circles around his podium now.

“No more questions from YOU, Sayors! I ask the questions around here!”

“Question 1: On Wednesday Night Warfare, the XWF Tag-Team Champions are defending their belts against the Carnie Bastards: Charlie Nickles and Marf.”

“Fuckin’ Marf.”

“Now. Can XWF Tag-Team Champions Flynn and NK stave off Them No Good Bastards’ in their hunt to regain the tag titles? Let’s start with Steve Sayors.”

Sayors nervously straightens his tie… But eventually clears his throat. “…With all due respect to (and fear of) my fellow panelists… The Bastards are among the best tag-teams to ever grace the XWF. They had an ironclad grip on the tag division this time last-year. I think there’s every reason to believe they will take their belts back.”

“Fair points. The Bastards are definitely in the Greatest Tag-Team of All-Time discussion.”

“Flynn, can you refute Sayors’ statement?”

“Well, point one, Sayors. The 2021 Bastards are a distant memory. Sure, The Bastards knocked some heads around… a YEAR ago. Back when the tag division was plumbers, werewolves and plumber-werewolves. What have they done as a team RECENTLY?”

Flynn holds up a circle.

“Zero. The last time Bastards-of-any-combination won a tag-match was the Denzel Porter Invitational in JANUARY. The last time they won a tag-match on XWF programming was NINE MONTHS AGO!”

Porter’s brow scrunches in disbelief. “…There’s no way that’s right…”

“Actually, it is, Denzel Porter. Their stable’s last victory was at Relentless. September of 2021. So long ago that both of their opponents no longer appear on XWF programming.”

“Jeez, that’s a lengthy drought…”

“And one that we’ve played an active part in. We beat Bobby-and-TK, Bobby-and-Barney and Bobby-and-Charlie. Three of their last four matches? Against us.”

“And we won all three, Denzel Porter!”

“The fourth one? Against a completely randomized pairing of Corey and RL Edgar. And that was a fuckin’ DRAW.”

“But moreover, Denzel Porter? We’re not even fighting EITHER of the former champion Bastards. We’re fighting Charlie Nickles and Marf Swaysons! Mathematically, the 9th or 10th best possible pairing of Bastards.”

“Oh! Let’s talk about that! Question 2! This time, the champs take on Charlie Nickles and Marf! Sayors, do the Carnie Bastards have better or worse odds than Bobby & TK?”

“Better, Denzel! Back at WarGames 2021, Team BoB with Bobby and TK came in 3rd. BUT! Charlie’s Carnies with Charlie Nickles and Marf Swaysons came in 2nd!”

“Mister Flynn and Mister Criminal can gussy up circumstances all they like, but we can all agree 2nd place is better than 3rd place.”

“A rational argument, Sayors. Flynn, I assume you have a rebuttal?”

“What’s even better than second place?”

Flynn holds up a single finger.

“First place. NK and I, as part of TEAM F.U.C.K.T.H.A.D...”

”The Greatest WarGames Team in XWF History!”

“Yes, an-”

“TEAM #FUCKTHAD FOR LIFE!”

…

“We already beat Charlie Nickles and Marf, by virtue of outperforming their team at WarGames.”

“But then! Mix in these facts that add color and context to Steve Sayors’ ridiculous claims!”

“Point One: Not only did Charlie and Marf FAIL to make to the WarGames finals.”

“But… POINT TWO! They were the first wrestlers eliminated off their team! Charlie Nickles got his posterior DEVASTATED by Dick Powers, while his team had a 4-on-2 advantage. The only captain that year to be eliminated off his team first!”

“Then, Marf got pinned by Jimmy while his team was rocking a 3-on-1 handicap. You’re telling me these two guys are going to beat us two-on-two, when they can’t keep their shoulders off the mat when the numbers are stacked in their favor?”

“Charlie and Marf couldn’t win an unfair fight that Dolly and Rob Main had already tipped the scales in their favor!”

“How the hell are they going to beat us, when our entire offense is bending the rules so they DON’T even GET a fair shake!”

Denzel nods, impressed. “You two make fair points! Charlie and Marf had terrible times closing the door on Dick Powers’ Team. If they can’t win with that much of an advantage, it’s hard to imagine them pulling out a win for the tag-team titles. Sayors, do you have a rebuttal there?”

“Well…”

“Stevie, my boy, you’re talking out of your ass! You wanna pretend Charlie and Marf have a prayer against the greatest tag-team of all-time?”

“You want additional proof that Charlie Nickles and Marf Swaysons have little chance?”

“How about we reference history, Sayors? Marf had THREE different tag title shots against Them No Good Bastards. He failed every single time.”

“Charlie Nickles had tag-title opportunities alongside both Jim Jimson AND Bobby Bourbon. Each time, a loss.”

“You’re talking about a pair that is combined 0-for-5 in tag-team title shots!”

“Compound the fact that Charlie Nickles gave up his TV Title, failed to beat Comrade Alias and now has NOTHING to show for it!”

“And that Marf will apparently drop if you poke him in the chest real hard…”

“Not only ALL THAT! But, Chuck KNOWS he can’t beat us.”

“Speak truth, Mark Flynn!”

“He’s known since shot one with Bobby, he didn’t hold a candle to us. Cuz if he was deluded enough to think he had a chance…?”

“He would have wagered his number one contendership for the Universal title like we challenged him to.”

“But he didn’t. He wants to call us paper champions? He was a paper challenger to Alias.”

“Much like his Westernized bastardization of Operation Paul Bunyan, his claim that we are paper champions falls apart when scrutinized.”

“We keep winning OUR matches, Chucky. Can you claim the same for your title shots?”

“In fac-“

“Clearly not, seeing Goldie left you beltless. Only your growing gut holding your pants up.”

“Bu-“

“We don’t even have to mercy-kill you, Chuck. You're already dead.”

“Sto-“

“Compute these calculations and the final result is…”

Both Flynn and NK put up circles.

“ZERO CHANCE FOR CHUCKY AND MARF!”

“STOP INTERRUPTING ME!”

The set goes silent. Flynn, Porter and NK both look surprised like how-uncalled-for as Sayors screams, red in the face.

“I’M TRYING TO MAKE MY POINTS! IF YOU INTERRUPT ME, I CAN’T FIGHT YOURS!”

“Whoa, who said anything about fighting?”

“…No, I meant metaphorically!”

“Mister Sayors, we merely came on this program for friendly discourse! You’d threaten to strike us?”

“Think of the children watching, Steve! What kind of example are we setting for them!?!”

“N-no, I-“

BZZT! A third red circle appears on Sayors’ podium.

“Steve Sayors, I’m sorry to say, YOU! HAVE! FOULED! OUT!”

Immediately, a trapdoor opens under Sayors. He screams in terror.

Followed by screaming in agony.

As he is dropped through SEVENTY tables. One of which is religiously significant.

…

After a brief silence, Denzel clears his throat.

“Well, gentleman, I cannot apologize enough for Steve Sayors’ conduct. Clearly, we have work to do background-checking our panelists.”

“We’re chill, Denzel.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Clearly, some people can’t handle their speech responsibly.”

“Well, we have time for one last question…”

“Who are…”

“THE.”

“GREATEST.”

“XWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS.”

“OF.”

“ALL.”

“TIME.”

Flynn and NK laugh nefarious my as the two stand, revealing their chairs were next to each other the whole time.

“Great question, Denzel. There’s only one correct answer…”

The tag-champs cross arms and move back-to-back.

“And that is the team…”

“Of Mark Flynn.”

“And the North Korean War Criminal.”

***

THUMP.

Flynn gets backed into a wall.

“Boxer, huh?”

He wipes the blood off his chin.

“I’ve fought a boxer or two in my time.”

“я буду последним”

The shadowy figure grapevines back and forth, edging in and out, looking for blows.

In a flash, he steps in! He swings!

BUT FLYNN DUCKS AND CLINCHES…

And drags his attacker backward towards the lit-up door.

And as the boxer’s purplish face and large mustache emerge into the light…

Flynn gasps.



“SODA POPINSKI?!?”