Robbie Bourbon was recently told by his neighbor across the street in a very blunt fashion that he'd lost the support and hearts of the people long ago. This man has suggested that he can help Robbie regain the greatest strength he ever had, the people.

Robbie has nothing to lose, so why not?

THE PEOPLE'S FAILURE

A dry cleaning business in the middle of the night. Boring, plain, insignificant save the fact the massive Robbie Bourbon is seen inside, standing beside his neighbor, Carlos. Pressed suits, gowns, dresses, pants, shirts, and other garments are seen hanging in plastic bags on a massive rack that moves with the convenience of a push of a button. A counter holds a register and a smaller stationary rack.

Bourbon goes to take a seat in the one chair in the establishment in the front of this ground floor business of the three story building.

Get up. Now is not the time for sitting.

I'm fucking exhausted.

I do not care. Now is the time you learn.

Learn what? I'm Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon...

Yes, I've heard it all before. You're the Middle Finger or some such of some dead group. You're a Motherfucker, which can be quite impressive at times but you aren't picking up your end of the slack. You're the big bad whatever, but you're just big and just bad in the eyes of most now. You're the King of the Jobbers, but it's pretty evident you are no king, Robert. You claim to be the man of the people, but I don't see proof of that, and neither should you.

So you know who the fuck I am, and you know I can...

What, wreck me? You're going to do what, throw me through the window of my own business for speaking my mind? For stating the obvious? You bellow your nonsense, repeat yourself to cover your own insecurities and failures, Robert. You failed to win the High Stakes Battle Royale. You failed to hold the Hart Championship at Lethal Lottery. You are on the decline, Robert. You're not a hero, and you haven't been for some time.

Robbie rolls his eyes and sucks his teeth.

Go ahead, sulk. Feel sorry for yourself. Don't take this seriously. You will continue to fail when it's most necessary you succeed. You haven't done a damn thing for the people or this neighborhood in too long a time, Robert. You know ever since you lost, things have been getting worse?

That's not my fault.

Fault? It's entropy, Robert. Everything is falling apart because it's just the nature of things to fall apart. It's the way human nature tends to steer itself. Desperation, Robert. Desperation is causing people to behave in ways uncivil, terrible, and horrific to each other. Some people see no outlet but to do the very worst they possibly can. Even you.

Oh yeah?

Yes, Robert. You know who is doing a damn fine job of finding the best of himself? Your opponent. Cadryn Tiberius took the man who pinned you to his limit and beat him to obtain the Hart Championship and prove he belongs at the table with his comrades.

I don't like his comrades, or him.

That's besides the point. You don't have to like them. But to belittle them for humbling you in several ways is unbefitting of a so called "man of the people". You need to learn to acknowledge that they might be better than you in ways you can't comprehend. They're reliable, Robert. You, you have proven not to be.

Yeah, well, fuck you too.

Again, you shy away and try to insult me when you know what I say is as plain as day. Why do you ignore it?

Because I have to! I have to feel infallible, I have to feel like I'm going into Warfare guns blazing, ready to take on the fucking universe and whatever it has for me to deal with.

And you do that by living in the past?

Robbie shrugs.

I don't know. Do you have any bright ideas? We're here, aren't we?

I can't build something without stripping the bad parts.

Sweet pep talk, coach. Gimme a Gatorade, I'm sure we'll knock 'em dead after halftime.

Stop your sarcasm. The people need someone genuine. They need someone who can shoulder reality with them to make change for the better, not rehashed ideas from yesterday. Yesterday's solutions are as dead as yesterday itself, tomorrow's solutions still need to be made.

That's, I dunno, inane? I mean, the solution to taking a piss yesterday is the same as tomorrow. Unzip fly, pull out dick, aim for toilet, relax my bladder, shake three times to be playful, put dick away, zip up, flush if I'm not outdoors.

So your solution for tomorrow is piss?

Would you stop talking in logic knots and just be straightforward?

You will continue to face challenges every day, like everybody, Robert. The challenges you face tomorrow will adapt to what you have done. The world learns as well as any man does. The people, the people are slow to learn, which is why they need all they help they can get in coming up with solutions to challenges they will face.

Robbie nods his head 'no'.

What do you want me to say?

Say whatever you want, I want you to learn. Also, you forgot an important step; locate an acceptable place to relieve yourself. You don't simply pee in the middle of the street, or in the bear exhibit at the zoo.

So, you want me to go piss on a bear?

No, Robert. What I want you to do is far more bold than marking your territory on a bear. I want you to do for the people. I want you to prove you have it in you to do for the people, and to adapt, and to become what you need to be in order to be what the people deserve. Look outside, what do you see?

My dojo.

What else?

Well, people kind of milling about. It's like three in the morning.

What kind of people?

I dunno, drunk people? I think maybe a hooker? Jesus, this neighborhood kind of went downhill, what happened?

You left, Robert. You kept this place secure. Now the world looks elsewhere for it's paradises, for it's peace. Your dojo, this neighborhood, it's not what it once was. It's been in decay for some time, and you were the one thing keeping it from turning into something awful. That woman there, the hooker as you put it?

Yeah, so what?

She's been standing out on the streets for a month now. You've been gallivanting around with your bearded friend, but you've lost sight of some of the details in your own home.

So you think I should call Pig up?

I think you should take more pride in your home, Robert.

Robbie sighs.

So you want me to give that girl a job?

Perhaps. Before you do anything, I want you to go upstairs. Her apartment is on the third floor above mine. Go there and tell me what you find.

She's not home.

I'm her landlord.

So evict her for being a hooker.

Perhaps. But, how is that of benefit for the people?

So you want me to evict her?

I want you to go upstairs.

Carlos reaches in his pocket and pulls out a key. He hands it to Robbie. Robbie rolls his eyes and takes the stairs up.

"This is stupid. I should be getting some shut eye. I have to train with Pig to handle the possible Lizard Men invasion, I have to train to face Cadryn and kick his ass again. Us Motherfuckers are going to dispense justice around the world, American style." Robbie finds the second floor landing, rounds a corner, and continues upward. "Wasting my god damned time. You had a point, Carlos, but now you're just farting around. Too scared to kick a hooker out of your building. Guess her pimp is up here with a shotgun or something, he needs the bulletproof basher to deal with it."

As Robbie reaches the third floor landing, he approaches the door. He knocks. There's the sound of some rapid movements from behind it.

Yo, I know you're in there. Look, I'm coming in, the old guy downstairs is tired of what's been going on. I'm going to come in, don't do anything stupid.

Robbie pushes the key into the deadbolt and spins it to the open position. He removes the key and puts it into the handle, and turns. He opens the door, and stops suddenly, shocked to find two children. A boy, roughly six years old, in footie pajamas and holding an aluminum baseball bat stands in front of a cowering little girl hiding behind a blanket, her eyes barely poking out. The sounds of Moana play in the background as the lad prepares to defend his sister from Bourbon. Robbie is wide eyed. The boy does not lower his bat.

Where's your dad?

We don't have one.

Do you know where your mom is?

She's working.

Nobody is watching you?

I'm watching my sister.

Robbie blinks hard. He goes to a knee. As he does, the boy charges and nails him in the head with the bat. The girl shrieks. Robbie's head bobs as he flinches from the blow. The boy stands back, the determination graven in his face, but shocked that Robbie didn't budge. Robbie looks back at the boy.

I'm not here to hurt either of you.

I won't let you.

I know. I won't let anyone either. I'm going to make a phone call, okay, and one of my friends is going to come over. What did you guys have for dinner?

Mom said we weren't good enough for dinner.

Robbie looks less than pleased.

Are you hungry?

The little girl drops her blanket from in front of her face.

Yes.

Shh! He's going to take you away!

No. I'm not.

Robbie stands up.

If anyone tries, they have to deal with me. My name is Robbie Bourbon. I want you guys to remember that name. If you ever are in danger, or need help, I'm across the street in the big building.

Robbie pulls his phone out of his pocket. He fiddles with it as the boy sets the bat down. He puts the phone to his ear.

Yo.

I know it's like three.

Come across the street.

Third floor, tell the old man I sent you.

Bring a pizza.

The little girl's eyes go wide.

Pepperoni!

Shhhh!

Robbie nearly drops his phone as his posture goes as soft as a cotton ball. He slowly puts the phone back to his head.

Make it pepperoni.

Just do it.

Robbie pulls the phone from his head and ends the call with his sausage sized fingers.

You look like Spider-Man and Batman combined.

Is that because I'm fat?

The little girl giggles.

Yes.

Well, thank you. I'm the fat Batspiderman across the street then.

The little girl continues to smile as she turns back to the screen. The boy is laughing too.

I thought you were Daryl.

Who's Daryl?

He comes over sometimes.

The boy's face goes stone again.

He hits my mom.

Robbie's nostrils flare as every foul word he wishes he could holler right now expresses themselves through his nose.

Well then I don't think Daryl should come over anymore.

Okay.

Robbie slides his phone in his pocket. He takes a deep breath.

So, what're you guys watching?

Moana.

Oh, is it any good?

The little girl nods and continues to stare at the screen. The little boy looks back at the screen as the movie plays on.

You know, when I was your age, I had a guy like that guy. His name was Popeye, ever heard of him?

The little boy nods his head 'no'.

No.

Ah. You probably won't. What's this guy's name?

Maui. He's strong, can shape change, and has a magic hook.

Popeye was kind of like that. He beat up all the bad guys.

Maui can do that.

Who was the girl you had growing up?

Huh?

The one like Moana?

The little girl breaks her gaze on the screen and looks inquisitively at Robbie. Robbie breathes deep through his nose.

I think Penny. She was on a show called Inspector Gadget. Ever hear of that show?

Both children nod 'no' as they turn back to the screen.

I'm going to go into the kitchen for a drink of water, do you guys need a drink?

Okay.

I want juice!

Shhh! You know we don't have any!

Okay, okay, just sit tight, I'll get you some water for now.

Robbie walks through the unkempt apartment. Not filthy, since there simply isn't enough stuff to be considered filth. He walks into the kitchen and starts looking through cabinets that are mostly barren, with a few plates or boxes or packages of this and that (flour, sugar, etc.). He finally finds the cabinet with glasses, or specifically, a glass, a few shot glasses, three mugs, and an enormous plastic cup. Robbie takes the enormous plastic cup, checks the interior to see it's clean, and fills it with water. He gulps it down almost instantaneously. He tops off his cup again, and then pulls out two mugs. He nods his head 'no' and sets them down, pulling his phone out shortly after. He fiddles with it and puts the device to his head.

Yo.

I know you're on the way.

Bring a pitcher of fruit punch.

Then fucking make some! Squeeze some oranges and pineapples and shit, we have like eight juicers.

Good.

Bring a quart of the good chocolate milk too.

Get someone to help carry it then!

Robbie removes the phone from his ear and pushes a button or two. He then slides his phone into his pocket again. He picks up each mug in turn and fills it with water from the tap, and then walks back out into the living room and hands the children their water.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

As he says this, Blue, Robbie's girlfriend and handler comes walking in through the open door.

What's going on, I saw Cyberjaw and Diamondback making a fuss in the kitchen and they said to come over...

Blue stops as she sees Robbie pointing at the kids. Robbie beckons for Blue to approach him with two fingers as he walks to the kitchen.

Guys, this is Blue. She's a good person, she's going to help you too.

Robbie goes to the sink. Blue follows.

Robbie, what's going on here?

Those kids have nobody. Their mom is out on the street right now.

Oh, her? Jesus.

Yeah, and some fuck has put her out there from the sounds of things.

Well, what are you going to do?

Cyberjaw and Diamondback should be making a pizza right now, and bringing over something for the kids to drink. Then I was going to have them watch the kids while I...

Blue puts a finger to Robbie's lips, silencing him.

You were seriously going to have the scary robot faced man and his stoned buddy hang out with children?

Robbie looks to his right, considering his plan. He looks back to Blue.

Yes. I mean, it's better than...

Blue leans up on her tip toes and kisses Robbie gently. She turns and walks back to the living room.

Okay, I'm Blue, and you guys should probably be in bed. After you have your pizza and juice, we're going to sleep, okay? Now, before we eat, what are your names?

Martin.

Jennifer.

Martin and Jennifer! Awesome. Well, Martin, Jennifer, I'm Blue, and we're going to finish watching Moana and eat pizza and drink some juice while Robbie goes out and finds your mom, okay?

Are you sure? I mean...

Blue doesn't even turn her head to look at Robbie, instead waving him off with the vigorous motion of her right hand. Robbie shrugs, and steps out of the apartment and onto the landing. He walks down the stairs and upon reaching the dry cleaners, he stops and sees Carlos standing with his arms folded.

What did you find?

A mess.

They're children, Robert.

You know what I mean. What's your tenant's name?

Esther.

Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, walks in holding a pizza box. Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, walks in holding a pitcher full of juice and a brown milk carton. They both look bleary eyed and confused.

Dude, couldn't you make your own snacks?

They aren't for me. Take them upstairs, Blue will tell you what to do with them.

Man, I was having my favorite dream about winning the lottery and finally beating Final Fantasy VII.

What? Go!

The Bourbon Men grumble and make their way up the stairs as Robbie leaves. He walks down the block straight for Esther. As he approaches, she coozes up next to him.

Hey baby, looking to party?

Well, maybe. I might have a job for you.

Oh really? What kind of job does a big strong man like you have for me?

I don't know. How does fifty thousand a year plus medical to start sound?

Esther's demeanor completely changes.

Look, man, I don't know what you think you're doing, but you better get lost before...

From around the corner saunters a gaunt, creepy figure sporting an unnatural grin.

Baby, don't you know? This is Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon! He's a high dollar client, you best listen to what he has to say, he's got that money like that, you know?

Robbie smiles and points at the man.

You must by Daryl.

Daryl chortles.

That I am, it seems my name proceeds me.

Awesome. Esther, you go wait at that dry cleaners over there, I'm going to go talk with Daryl around the corner.

Esther looks at Daryl, waiting for approval. He nods towards the dry cleaners and then looks back at Robbie.

So, what do you want? Need more girls? Maybe a little meth to help the party roll on for a few days? That heroin? You name it, I got you bro, and any other XWF guys you know. I know you guys like to party hard.

Hrmm. I don't know. Let's talk about it in my dojo.

Robbie leads Daryl down the street a short ways, less than a block, and into the dojo. As soon as the doors are closed behind them, Robbie grabs Daryl by the throat. Daryl reaches in desperation for something in his pockets somewhere as Robbie grabs Daryl by the crotch. The sickening sound of cloth then human flesh tearing is heard as Daryl's mouth goes wide, but no air can escape his windpipe under the firm grip of one Robbie Bourbon. The silent scream fails to pierce the night.

Daryl, I'm a real motherfucker. You, you're just small time. Your game is over. You were on the wrong block at the wrong time.

Robbie pulls his other fist up, filled with bloody cloth from Daryl's pants and Daryl's detached nut sack. Robbie shoves the scrotum and balls into Daryl's mouth, with bits of himself sticking out like sloppy spaghetti waiting to be slurped. Robbie releases the chokehold while throwing an uppercut, nailing Daryl on the chin, and his mouth explodes as his testicles get crushed between his own teeth. Daryl collapses to the ground as Robbie grabs him by the neck again and proceeds to drag him down a hallway. He stops and opens a door, which leads outdoors to an area where we see a shed and a dumpster.

And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger, those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers and sisters. And you will know my name is Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon when I lay my vengeance upon thee.

Robbie slides Daryl into the dumpster, propped up against it. Robbie takes a step back and throws his boot into Daryl's face, crushing his head against the dumpster. Robbie props Daryl up again, and delivers the same blow, deforming his features as the skull fractures and blood and brain start to trickle from Daryl's nose, ears, and tear ducts. Daryl starts to convulse as his nervous system fails him one final time. Robbie props him up again, and with a final thud, delivers one last boot, nearly flattening Daryl's head. Robbie then picks Daryl up and plops him in the dumpster. He turns, grabs a hose, unreels it, and starts to hose his boot off, along with his hands. He walks back into the dojo, and we see Robo-Rob, the robot from Rocky IV painted to look like it's wearing a Robbie Bourbon mask, diligently pushing a mop around, cleaning up all the evidence that Daryl ever lived or died in this dojo.

Good job.

Happy Birthday, Paulie.

Robbie walks out of the dojo and across the street. He approaches Esther.

So, I just had a chat with Daryl. He said I get your contract now, and that he won't be seeing you anymore. Come to my office tomorrow, we'll discuss your pay.

What do you want me to do?

I dunno, can you type?

I guess.

Cool. I've needed a typist for a while. Go upstairs and be with your kids. There's food. And Esther?

Yes?

If your kids are hungry let me know.

Okay...

Esther turns and hustles upstairs, unsure of exactly what has transpired but relieved that Daryl is not longer in charge. Carlos unfolds his arms.

What did you do?

What I had to. What those people deserved.

Then I think you passed your first test.

...

Robbie takes a deep breath and looks at Carlos.

What do you have next?