Robbie may or may not make it to Warfare to defend his MVP status because...

Oh who the fuck are we kidding?

MEAN VORACIOUS PERSON

Aboard the vessel carrying both Robbie and Fuchsia, the greys who captured both Robbie recently and the woman known only as Fuchsia so far are seen sitting in their very swanky super sleek spaceship lounge along with Robbie and Fuchsia. Both the greys are seated in suspended seats, resembling swings, as Robbie and Fuchsia are seen wearing collars and sitting on the floor. Robbie is gnawing at a bone while Fuchsia just looks bored.

Oh, this is so pleasant.

Yes, indeed it is. Our human pets are happy here in the den with us. The new one is so big but cuddly.

One of the greys hops down from his swinging chair and starts to scratch Robbie behind his ear. He stops, his bone sticking out across his mouth, and looks happy to have some head scratches.

Who's a good boy? Huh? Who made daddy and daddy their doomsday device to take over a planet and get free gas? Good boy!

Robbie looks up at the grey, smiling but still gripping the bone in his teeth. The other grey hops down and starts to rub Fuchsia's belly.

And who's a good girl, cleaning up the ship and keeping Robbie company?

What kind of a name is Robbie?

I don't know, it's Earthican I think.

Earthican? I think you mean Earthstralian.

Whatever, you know what I meant.

Well, maybe we should pick out a new name for this guy.

What about Spork?

Spork? That's a strong name, but kinda scary. This big guy is a cuddler! Aren't you buddy?

The grey pats Robbie's head.

How about Fido?

What, name him after my shitty Ex?

Sorry, I knew it was a common space name, but I didn't know you dated a Fido.

I did. It ended poorly.

The grey nearest Robbie stands in front of him, nearly at eye level as Robbie is seated cross legged on the ground with a bone in his mouth.

What is your name, buddy?

Robbie promptly spits out his chew bone like a naughty boy.

My name is Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon!

Robbie swings and clocks the grey with a vicious haymaker. The other grey freaks out.

Bad! No, Fido, no!

The grey rolls up a space newspaper and whacks Robbie in the head with it. Robbie turns and looks at him.

Did you seriously just do that?

Sit or you don't get any dinner.

Robbie cracks his neck.

I'm warning you, I will put you in your cage!

I'm the type of breed that will test you!

Robbie grabs the grey by it's neck and delivers Earth's Mightiest Chokeslam, but in space, making it perhaps the Galaxy's Mightiest Chokeslam! Both greys, having been knocked silly by Robbie, are sprawled out on the ground. Fuchsia looks up at Robbie.

Oh my god! What are we going to do?

What are we going to do?

We're going to go into Paris and beat the breaks off of Thaddeus Duke and retain the moniker of being Warfare MVP!

Well how are we going to get there? Do you know how to fly a spaceship?

Robbie rubs his chin.

I have an idea!

Really?

Robbie picks up the greys.

I can't believe I'm not going to be their dog anymore!

Well, maybe I should have waited to do that until after I sniffed your butt.

Maybe later?

Fuchsia looks at Robbie, she's glowing. Robbie blushes.

Uh, look, I...

Fuchsia rolls her eyes, still smiling.

Let's get home.

Robbie carries the greys through a sliding door as Fuchsia follows. They go down a corridor, and into another chamber, the bridge of the ship.

Okay, so what is your plan?

Robbie tosses the greys to the ground, who groan in pain. He pulls out his phone.

Is that thing even going to work?

Sure!

Robbie boops his phone, then speaks.

Google, take us home!

Throughout the bridge, the voice of Google Maps is heard.

Calculating route.

It's working!

Robbie smirks.

It had to, I have a match at Warfare, and damn if I'm going to miss it.

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

Alright, Universe, time to bring devastation and destruction back to the streets of 'Gay Paree' like I'm Robespierre. Last time a Bourbon so noteworthy was there, his name was Louis and that doof was busy giving mediocre dickings to Marie Antoinette.

This week Thad Duke is fucked.

Now, Thad has been boo-hooing that I didn't pay him enough respect the past, well, month really, because every word out of my mouth about the man has been, admittedly, less than kind.

Well shit, Thad, maybe you could give some respect, or earn it. You changed your tune awful quick about the fat jokes, and then got awful defensive for your daddy, telling me his resume.

Every title?

Hrmm.

Hart Champion? Check, twice.

Xtreme Champion? Yep, I held that.

Universal Championship? Bingo, it's actually pretty well known that yes, I was the Universal Champ.

I can and will be again. No disrespect to Lacklan, much love to you darlin', I'm damned proud of what you've accomplished so far and whoop the brains into Peter for us, lord knows I've tried.

So, now that we see your daddy did whatever he did without me around, and since I've been here I've pretty much done all that too, exception being a member of the Hall, oh, also, another exception being that I'm the Warfare MVP and he never was, then yeah, I can call him a bust. I can call him Derwin or Francis for Christ's sake.

Oh, and I beat his son twice in one night.

I'ma beat you again too like your daddy should have.

Whoops, would that be another soundbite that holds more gravitas than you speaking for a full twenty minutes? Seriously, the Catholic mass is more exciting than listening to you. Go watch one on TV sometime, it's the second best cure for insomnia around.

My game, though, just spewing stuff out of my face? Geeze, kid, you really want some respect and you're not going to give any?

You're listening to a master of his craft on this here microphone, the beast with the bellows, breathing life and wonder into the foregone conclusion that I'm leaving Paris as the MVP of Warfare. Will it be pretty? No sirree.

Also, there's the whole of what I do in the ring and how I do it and how nobody else does it, so yeah. I think you might have glossed over a few details here and there, but that's to be expected.

Because you're about as smart as a Special Olympian when they're shitting their pants and eating their shoelaces thinking it's licorice on the fucking short bus.

You loved the movie Forrest Gump because it gave you the inspiration to go out and try to do shit even with the stigma that mental carries in society.

You wanted your respect?

I think what you do as an example for those with mental handicaps and brain damage is just wonderful.

I think you'd make an amazing door person at any given Wal-Mart.

Listening to you speak is clinically proven to be the number one cure for insomnia.

I bet you can even identify your favorite color and maybe, just maybe, your favorite dinosaur, and you show it off with your coloring books.

Robbie clears his throat. He then crosses his eyes and does a terrible Thaddeus Duke impersonation.

"See? This is a stegosaurus! I made it brown, like chocolate and dirt. I like brown, it's the color of chocolate, tee hee hee, and I wish I had a stegosaurus, but my daddy said that we can't use our money to clone dinosaurs like Jurassic Park because that would be entertaining and people would give a damn about that."

Robbie uncrosses his eyes and shakes his head.

Ever watch Umbrella Academy, or read the graphic novels? I love it. Gotta admit, I am hooked by it. Now, Thad, there are certain things about that show that definitely remind me of you. Specifically, how during your upbringing, you relied on a chimp for guidance and instruction. Not a super smart chimp like in the show, though, just a regular chimp collecting it's own shit and flinging it around, because compared to what you bring to the table, that's brilliance.

Fuck it. I respect the hell out of the fact you can eat without choking. I'm impressed with the way you haven't managed to suffocate yourself with a plastic grocery bag somewhere down the line. I'm absolutely blown away by how well you've avoided drinking some kind of poison because the bottle it came in was so pretty.

Shit, I'm convinced the grandest scheme the Illuminati has pulled was the Mr. Yuck symbol just to keep you from drinking Draino.

As for the adoration of the fans, well, telling them you don't care about your championship is pretty low. It's disrespectful. There are thousands, if not millions, and if not billions, of XWF fans who wish they had the chance to step inside of the ring, to actually compete, to walk down that aisle with some cool music and some fancy lights, to have someone say that they're coming, and with a little savvy, some athleticism, and a smidgen of luck, they'll win a match. Now imagine that dream extending to holding an actual title.

A dream you squander and treat like it's nothing, because you're a spoiled little shit.

A stupid spoiled little shit. One who doesn't understand the gifts he's been given. Seriously, I wish I lived in a world where being a champion took back seat to whether I'd have my own airplane to fly around in, but I work for a living.

I respect the fact that for every ounce of blood, every gallon of sweat, and every single tear shed, you've ridden along on an insistence and handouts from daddy. Hell, son, whenever I've gotten jumped in this business, my old man wasn't waiting in the wings to come bail me out. I just took my lumps, kept walking, then found the sumbitches responsible backstage and threw them through something.

You're just making snarky backhanded bullshit comments about Chris Page here and there.

So now, because you know you can't get as brutal as me, you won't be as cunning as me, you think you aim to be more artistic? Shit son, try a little finesse work, that might do you well, but in terms of sheer creativity for what can happen, nobody tops what I bring to the table. Shit, for half a damn year every match I had here was in a cage or cell or some structure so I wouldn't cause collateral damage around the arena. I've been locked in more pens then you could count, and that's even with your shoes off so you have your toes to help.

And now I'm being unleashed on the streets of a city.

Unshackled, unbridled, unleashed, with unlimited potential, I get a whole fucking city to be my ring for the night. Seriously, I'm tempted to see if we can go out of bounds, will I lose points if I throw you outside of the city limits? Or can I fight you all around the world? What if we started in Paris, and I straight whooped your ass from there to Luxembourg. Then to Belgium. Then to Denmark. Next thing you know, I've whooped your ass straight across Europe, through Berlin, and into Moscow, and we keep going, you keep getting your ass kicked across Russia, and we hit water, and we're fighting in Japan again like it's Leap of Faith! Shit, I'll slam you into the Marianas Trench, you'll hit the bottom, but I'll pull you back up, because I ain't done whooping you around the globe yet! We hit the beach in Pearl Harbor, and bombs drop again, and we hear the air raid sirens but I'm not scared, I'm the bomber. Then we hit Los Angeles, and I take you all the way down to the southern tip of Argentina, then all the way back up to Newfoundland, and I punt you across on over to Greenland! From there I keep you in a headlock all the way to Iceland, and we ride an iceberg all the way back to Britain, and I monkey stomp your goofy ass through the Chunnel until we emerge back in Paris, and then I finish it for the whole god damned Universe to behold, because I'm the fucking MVP!

And when it's all said and done, you'll look at me, and you'll say "you know what, Robbie, you're twice the competitor I gave you credit for." I'll look right back and say 'I know.' You'll say that I must be one hell of a competitor to beat you, and I'll say 'I know.' You'll say that our match was one for the ages, we rocked the house, and I'll say 'I know.' You'll say you respect me, and I'll say 'I don't give a shit. Keep your respect, I don't care about it.' And hey, you'll feel sullen, cuddled up in an airplane your daddy bought you, your daddy keeps gassed up, wondering why someone who's flying in economy class on the way home with that marvelous MVP medallion got the better of you.

It's because as good as you consider yourself, I'm fucking great.