The dignified looking man in the dapper suit was annoyed.

I'm an award winning journalist. A real professional and here I am slumming it on a human interest piece about a professional wrestler. Ridiculous.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!

Exclaims the barrel chest behemoth with the grizzled features. He approaches a huge grin on his face.

At least the man recognizes talent...

They actually sent me a cameraman! They never sent me a cameraman! C'mon Kenny.. we're going to the roof!

Alex shakes his head at the small arena.

Nope.. not high enough! That's no fun at all!

He looks across the street to the apartment building!

Perfect!

Before the cameraman can say but my name's not Kenny Alex goes towards his truly unique mode of transportation the Strange Rover and pulls out an impossibly large ladder. He sets the ladder up against the building and starts his climb.

Mister Richards.. there is an elevator..

Alex continues climbing the 5 or so stories leaving the journalist and the cameraman to take the elevator themselves. They reach the top and see Alex grinning.

This is where I wanted to make my first appearance in the XWF! I've long since heard the XWF was the penthouse of wrestling federations so here I am in the penthouse of.. well a pretty scummy cockroach infested apartment building but on short notice this is the best I could do. Why am I here you might ask? I'm here... to fuck shit up!

Alex rips the camera out of Kenny's hands.. spins it around to get a good shot of the scenery.. then hurls it as hard as he can off the building.

WOOOOOOOOO! That's what I'm talking about Kenny? You ever smashed a camera before? It makes you feel alive!

Actually.. it makes me feel broke. We gotta pay for those.

Don't worry I got you covered.

Alex rummages around in his ever present 19th century doctor's bag and pulls out.. a retro 1980's model video camera and hands it to Kenny.

There.. this should do.

I don't think they are gonna accept that as a replacement.

Alex chuckles.

It's not to give to your boss. It's to chuck off the building. The only way to experience the sheer joy of destruction is to experience it man.

I dunno..

C'mon Kenny! I spent a good part of my life trying to fit in to what society expected of me.. and it made me miserable. It made me a horrible person to be around.. it made me hate myself and others. So one day I decided.. I just ain't doing that anymore.

The journalist decides to pipe in.

Actually according to my research you were a convicted felon who somehow got an early release and proceeded to terrorize the wrestling world until you suffered a concussion and..

See.. this is why I only wanted to talk to Kenny. You're the kind of guy who probably has a 3rd behind his name. I could answer your questions.. or I could drink this boot of Zim-Quila and watch Kenny shatter that RCA!

What is Zim-Quila? Why are you drinking out of a boot?

I thought you did your research.

I thought that was a metaphor.

I never kid about the finest alcohol known to man! You're not really drinking if you don't drink from a boot. Only the best leathers and metals truly draw out the depth of flavor of Zim-Quila. Each drink is unique... Have a sample.

Alex offers his alcohol in footwear to the journalist who shakes his head. Kenny grabs it.

Fuck it.. I'm getting fired anyways for the camera.

Kenny takes a halting drink from the boot. He looks surprised then takes another haul.

That's.. actually pretty good.

I knew I liked you Kenny. Now if I was right about that... maybe I'm right about the camera...

Kenny shrugs.. hands the boot back to Alex who promptly refills it and chugs the alcohol in one gulp as Kenny launches the camera.. it doesn't make it off the roof however so he gently nudges it off the side. Kenny looks disappointed.

Nah.. I don't get the appeal.

Alex nods sagely.

Not everyone is built to enjoy destruction. When you find something you experience joy in.. you hold onto that. For me.. this nonstop party.. this constant chaos.. this is my bliss.

Alex shakes his head turns towards the journalist.

I have time for one question.

Alex Richards... you have claimed to be many things, a space explorer, a time traveler, a bar owner, a professional crime fighter.. a doctor.  I looked into this.. you have no medical license. Does this mean all your claims are falsehoods? Can we believe anything you say?

I'm the doctor of mass confusion. This here doctor's bag practically makes me a doctor. I do all those things because I thought I could. We are not limited by reality... we are limited by ourselves. Which brings us to our next venture. Protective services. The GPS was formed by Jay Omega and myself because we were directionless.

That was a terrible pun.

We're still workshopping new slogans. Jay and I formed the GPS for multiple reasons. We like beating people up. We hate people who prey on the weak. If we're gonna beat people up.. we might as well get paid for it.

Excuse me Alex.. I have more questions.

No.. you don't. Your questions are close minded and boring. That's why they assigned you to interview me. I provide local color to every situation. Now if you'll excuse me I have a business meeting to take care of.

Alex looks around and finds the battered suit jacket he apparently slashed up here earlier puts it off over his t shirt for the band morbid angel then completes his look with an ugly olive green tie.

Now that I look professional we are ready. Gentleman.. I am ready to see you.

The elevator door swings open and out hops two men. The first a short, portly individual wearing an adult onesie sailor suit covered with mustard stains. The second man looks like 70s era Richard Simmons wearing hot pink workout gear. Alex reaches into his doctor's bag and pulls out some papers that look like they were crushed by the video camera.

The Seaman and Fister Mantasic I presume.

Yar, why are we meeting on the roof. I prefer sea level or b level. That's the butt.

You're gonna give me a bad rep if we've delving into bad sex jokes already.

I'll get to the point then. Some bad men want to make me to walk the plank. Not in a good way either.  we're in deep and have no money.

We at GPS pride ourselves in thinking outside the box so what do you have to offer?

A ship's haul worth of homegrown weed. We were smuggling it in but they never paid us.

You know.. weed's not worth much anymore. But I am kinda lazy and not having to grow it ourselves does free up a lot of time. We'll protect you from the weed dealers. What are you looking for Fister?

Okay, so as you might know Seaman and I formed a tag team and I had the bright idea to call us S&M. Worst mistake ever. You ever been chased by a domintrix threatening to make you live up to your name because she knows you'll like it?

Mantasic shudders. Alex thinks for a second.

I am going to accept your offer. But weed is more Jay's thing then mine. We are teammates so I'm gonna hook him up with the green and I am sure am gonna smoke some. But I'm gonna need a few more things.

Alex starts jotting on the contract before handing it to Seaman and Fister to sign. They don't even look, just sign.

Yar, you ever had someone threaten to roll you up and smoke you if you don't give them their weed? I'm a businessman, no payment or weed it's the principle of the matter. So I accept your terms.

We probably should have looked through.

Alex grins.

It ain't so bad. All you gotta do is arrange it so I can get free Long John Silver buffet anytime I want. A man gets sick of Chinese buffet sometimes. Also we get use of your boat. As for you Fister, my buddy Steven Osbourne wanted a wingman and even I don't want to do that. Also when you leave take mister fancy pants reporter with you.

Yar.. can I take him to sea my hole?

The reporter sensing things are going south sprints towards the elevator with Seaman and Fister giving chase.

That was the strangest thing I've ever seen.

Stick around Kenny it only gets stranger..

I've been around. I know how all of this goes. All of you talk about how my world titles and hall of fame accomplishments elsewhere don't mean shit. You really should skip that. I know you're all hoping I'm a typical overconfident newbie who doesn't know what they are getting themselves into. But I ain't like everybody else. What I did elsewhere doesn't matter however if Jay and myself knock off two former Universal champions in my first night in the company everyone is going to remember that. You guys have to hope I'm overrated or I've faced poor competition because the fact is you know nothing about me. You've never seen me against XWF competition but I have years of footage to watch on you.

Bobby, I should like you. Your name makes me want to drink so you got that going for you. Multiple world championships. Yet you always look for the easiest way out. I remember you losing to Jay, which you will again, then pulling this whole I don't got it anymore thing to lull Mark Flynn into a false sense of security and pull off the title win. Then you immediately challenged Sidney Grey to a title match and lost your gold. Seems like a brave, heroic thing to do, right? You challenged Sid before she could challenge you after she wrestled three times that night. You knew that was your best chance of victory and it wasn't good enough! Not even close. That's what you're about Bobby.. looking good with the least amount of effort possible. You're gonna make sure you don't get pinned so you can claim you didn't really lose because that's all you care about.

Don't worry your partner Charlie Nickels can take the fall. Charlie, I've watched you. You're basically have always been a lowlife scumbag who never tries to improve themselves. You had the two best television title reigns ever but yet you never used that to improve your life or anyone you cared about lives in the slightest. That's why you get no joy and ultimately that's why you'll never experience the success you think you deserve.
Now Sarah Lacklin, there's someone I can respect. Fiercely independent. Talented and she knows it. But Sarah has a weakness and that weakness is her arrogance. She knows how good she is but falsely doesn't realize a good team is only as strong as it's weakest link. Angie Vaughn is not on her level. Everybody knows that. I mean c'mon Angie.. using your soccer experience in a combat sport. The reason nobody else has thought of that is because it's a terrible fucking idea! If you're scared of heights you're going to be terrified when I drag you to the top rope and hit you with my sanity slip. Sarah believes she can win this match, win the tag titles with anybody because she's that good. But that simply isn't the case. This may be our official debut but the Doctor of Mass Confusion and XWF's dankest wrestler are the only real team. We will divide, we will conquer and in the end through the haze.. the GPS will find the way to victory.