Robbie Bourbon and Jack Cain, the Motherfuckers, square off against Team 2.0 and The XWF Power Couple in a three way tag match to finally determine who will face the Kings for the Tag Team Championships.

Really, the number one contendership is theirs to lose.

THE VIOLENT URGES

The Bourbon Dojo of the Competitive Arts. Home to many a starry eyed youth with a dream of dominating the wrestling ring, the kitchen, the hair salon, or just a cup of coffee and a donut or twelve at the local Dunkin Donuts. America runs on Dunkin. The atmosphere is carnival like, packed to the brim as the raging summer heat drives dozens upon dozens of bored teens to the only place that offers some kind of entertainment at no cost but the attention to learning wrestling, the culinary arts, or cosmetology.

The whole dojo almost freezes and watches as Robbie Bourbon walks through the front door. Robbie doesn't pause to look at any of the students, and marches straight for his office located in the center of the dojo. His face is determined, and his gait is fast, his long legs striding with a power walk. Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, and Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, approach him.

Yo, Robbie...

Hey, we have...

...

Robbie ignores them and heads straight for his office. He opens the door and slams it shut behind him.

Wow, what's wrong with him?

I don't know.

You'd think he'd be a bit more cheery, he's in the running for the Tag Titles with the Motherfuckers.

Cyberjaw knocks on the office door. Robbie swings it wide open.

What?

Dude, what's up?

What's up?

Yeah, you seem grumpy, did something go wrong when you were hanging out with Jack?

Well, I wanted a root beer, but they kept serving me fucking club soda. Seriously, that shit is...

It's the worst.

I know! So I was on my phone while driving trying to find someone who could deliver a keg of root beer.

What?

Yeah, no fucking dice. I want a keg of Barq's.

Dude, the Dunkin Donuts has root beer...

I know, but they only have the kind that's syrup and mixes with seltzer. I wanted a keg of Barq's. I found A&W, which is good and all, but Barq's has bite. I found Dad's, and that just seems creepy. I found Mug, but that's like the cursed brand. Drinking Mug root beer makes you a loser. I want a keg of Barq's.

And did you find one?

Nope. Nobody had a keg of Barq's. Some fancy place in the city had their own brewed Root Beer, insisted on calling it a sarsparilla. Fucking hipsters.

So...

So what? I was going to take a nap, let this club soda work it's way out of my system, and get some training in.

Ah, I thought you were pissed about your opponents.

My opponents?

They boggle the mind.

Not Scully and the guy dressing up like Batman. Those guys are easily explained. They're on crack. See, Scully was the worst partner I'd ever had. Period. Know why? Crack addiction. He comes back to the XWF after months of absence to announce his retirement, then doesn't retire and instead goes after the tag team championships. Know why? Crack addiction. Everything that happens in Guppy's life can be explained by two words as well; crack addiction. Now, a couple of crackheads are no sweat to deal with. Especially Scully. I've seen him in the ring firsthand too many times, and his need for crack will always break him.

The thing that boggles my mind is Chaos and Myst. They're married? You know why I've never tagged up with Blue? Because I'd get disqualified about seven seconds into the match after pulling out a fucking meat cleaver and hacking my opponents to bits so they couldn't lay a finger on her. However, Chaos just lets his significant other out there to get slaughtered and beat on, especially by the likes of myself and Jack Cain? Shit, they can't be married. And Myst just lets her significant other out ther to get beat on and slaughtered, particularly by the likes of Jack Cain and myself? Damn, they're definitely not married.