What the fuck?



We open to see Robbie Bourbon and Blue, still embracing after phase shifting back from the video game world. The camera spins to show the Robbie Bourbon Dojo for the Competitive Arts is ablaze.

What happened?

I...

Robbie leaves Blue's side, and steps towards the inferno that used to be his dojo. His home, his comforts, his peace of mind all going up in smoke as the bright orange flames gush from windows and doors.

I don't know.

---

The camera comes back to show the dojo has completely burned to the ground. A fire engine is on the scene pouring water over the rubble as a few firefighters wander through the wreckage, looking for anything that could be considered salvageable. Looking for anything that might clue them in to how the fire started. We see Robbie, his shoulders slumped, his girlfriend Blue standing next to him. He looks exhausted, with dark rings under each eye. A firefighter approaches him.

Mr. O'Reilly?

Please, call me Robbie.

Okay, Robbie, where were you when the fire started again?

He looks at Blue and back at the fireman.

In a parallel universe fighting a video game dragon.

The firefighter's eyes go wide.

Real fuckin' funny, pal.

He's sorry, just stressed out about the whole thing. We were out grabbing some food together.

Well, ma'am, while you were out someone decided to burn your building down.

Burn it down?

Yes. Have you made any enemies?

Robbie rolls his eyes.

That's kind of my job, or at least it was.

Huh?

He's in the XWF. Again, he's just blown away by what happened.

Oh, that wrestling bullshit? Isn't it all fake?

Robbie looks at him, then turns his attention to the wreckage behind them.

Yeah, fake. Totally bogus. None of it is real, all of it is scripted. This is all just an act, see. That fire you came to put out was just a trick.

The firefighter clears his throat, then walks away.

Who would do this to you?

I don't know.

With that, we see Cyberjaw, Diamondback, Robo-Rob, and Clyde the orangutan walk up. They all look in awe of the smoldering pile of detritus that used to be the Robbie Bourbon Dojo for the Competitive Arts. Diamondback speaks.

What the hell happened?

We were burned.

Cyberjaw turns to Robbie.

The footage you got in the video game universe?

It was all in the dojo.

If you want we can send you back and...

No.

Robbie wanders off into the wreckage that was his home, kicking aside pieces of debris, looking at the ground.

Wow, I've never seen him so...

Diamondback looks around, at a loss for the exact word. More random Bourbon Men show up, looking completely deflated that their clubhouse was gone.

Hey guys. We had a fire.

One of the random Bourbon Men pulls a cellphone out of their pocket and starts to dial. Then another. Another one pulls out her cellphone and starts to take pictures of the place that used to be the Robbie Bourbon Dojo for the Competitive Arts.

Shit. What are we going to do? What is he...

The camera pivots to show a black sedan, a car for hire, pull up. The windows are deeply tinted, and out of the vehicle steps Ozymandias.

Oh, wow, hello.

Hi. I heard the news, I got here as soon as possible. Is there anything I can do?

The Bourbon Men, all of them, look around, searching for an answer. Robbie is still off kicking around in the debris, searching for something.

Look, I can come back if now's a bad time...

No.

Robbie calls back to Ozymandias without looking up. More Bourbon Men show up, obviously disappointed that their day will not be going as planned.

Look, Robbie, we can push the match back if you want. I mean, this is pretty devestating, and I understand if you want some time to recuperate.

Robbie reaches down into the rubble and picks up a sizable chunk of refuse. He starts to walk back to the group as yet more Bourbon Men show up. Some are consoling each other, some are busy on their phones.

No. Not now. In the past week I've lost my brother and my home. I will not let you take anything else from me.

Are you sure?

Robbie walks right up to him and hands him the piece of the burnt down dojo.

When I take the Intercontinental Title from Game Girl, you can give the daffy bitch that to put on whatever pressure plate she has to deal with. I will not allow someone else's home to be destroyed.

Robbie, it's just a title match. You've earned your shot, there's no reason to rush into it if you just aren't ready, or capable.

You don't get it, do you? There's nothing here for me. Everything was in that dojo. Everything. My records, my pictures, my memories, I've lost it. I've lost everything, except for one thing.

What's that?

Robbie points to the Bourbon Men standing around, looking at the site where the dojo once stood.

The people. These people. The people in the arena every Wednesday night. The people who have to put up with this every day. My people. All I have, all I need, all I want is to go out and give them what they deserve. It isn't fair to the father who bought tickets for him and his kids to see the Intercontinental Title match at Relentless. It isn't fair to the guys who spent their hard earned minimum wage to get tickets to Relentless. It isn't fair to the millions watching around the world, expecting that match. It isn't fair to the hopeless, to the desolate, to the undermined, to the weak. They deserve to see that one human can stand up to any kind of threat, even as exotic as Game Girl.

Ozymandias seems taken aback by the stance Robbie Bourbon has taken.

Okay. If you say so.

I do. I believe that it's about time some major league ass whoopings start coming down the pike for the people who want to discard us.

I do too.

I do too.

Me too.

Ooogh.

ME TOO.

Robbie turns and looks at the rest of the Bourbon Men. Suddenly, Drew Archyle walks onscreen.

"I believe in Robbie Bourbon."

With that, the random Bourbon Men start to chime in. "I do too." "I believe in you." "We do too."

And I'm not alone. For each asshole that tries to break or harm the way of life of someone else just because they aren't getting what they want, there are thousands of us left in the wake of it. Now, now we're taking our stand. We're going to fight back. We're going to save the god damned world.

TJ Wallace walks into the scene.

"I believe in Robbie Bourbon."

"Right!" "Tell 'em! Hey, that's TJ fucking Wallace!"

Now we can save the world. There are a lot of fucked up things in our world. Every day it compounds, and worsens, and the wounds deepen. Well, saying "someone has to do something about it" just won't cut it anymore. No. We are that someone. We are that something. We are the action that is necessary to set things right. We will save the world. We will do it one asshole, one dickhead, one fuckwad, one prick, one shithead, one hater, one corrupter at a time. Does anyone have a problem with this?

"HELL NO!"

Does anybody want to leave based off of what I said?

The Bourbon Men all echo "NO" back at him.

Good. Because when I look around here, you know what I see? Americans. Mean, angry, fed-up Americans. Americans tired of all the horse shit they're exposed to on a daily basis. Americans tired of what the world around them is becoming. Americans tired of hearing bad news every five fucking minutes. Americans ready to stand up and kick back at some problems for a change.

Bourbon points at the flag hanging from the fire engine.

I want you to remember, Bourbon Men, all this stuff you've heard about America not wanting to fight is a bunch of horse dung. Traditionally, all Americans love to fight. When you were kids, you all admired the champions, the fastest, the strongest, the toughest. Americans love a winner, and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win. I'd never give a hoot in hell about a man who lost and laughed. We are an idea, and that idea is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps fights as a team. Now we have the finest food and equipment, the best spirit, and the best people in the world. I almost pity them. All the assholes, the dickheads, the fuckwads, the pricks, the shitheads, the haters, the corruptors, all of 'em. You know why? We're going to rip out their guts and line our tank's treads with them!

"FUCK YEAH!"

Some of you boys, I know are wondering, whether you'll chicken out under fire. Don't worry about it. I assure you that you will all do your duty. Corruption is the enemy. Wade into it. Spill its blood. Shoot it in the belly. I want no messages that we're holding our position. We aren't holding anything. They are. We are taking it back.

Wait...

Now there's only one thing you can say when you get home. Someday, when you're with your grandkids, and they ask you what did you do to make the world better, you won't have to say "Well, I shoveled shit in Louisiana." Alright, you sons of bitches, you know how I feel. I will be proud to lead you all into battle any time, any where. That's all.

With that, the Bourbon Men all stand and start to applaud. Loudly. Robbie raises his arms to 45 degree angles.

That's Patton.

Fuckin' ay right it is.

Ozymandius chuckles.

Fuck. I believe in Robbie Bourbon.

---

We open again to see Robbie Bourbon, his trusted companions and countless other Bourbon Men standing behind him in front of what used to be the Robbie Bourbon Dojo for the Competitive Arts.

Hello. My name is Robbie Bourbon. You might not have heard of me, but hey, I'm a contender now.

You? You're Game Girl. We've all heard of you. Undefeated Intercontinental Champion, the last best hope for your world, and arguably the most powerful being ever to grace an XWF ring. Good for you, stud. Good for you.

Me? I'm just a guy, I guess. I want you to look behind me. I didn't get a news flash. I didn't get an alert from an intelligence organization, and I have direct links to some of their databases. I got home, and home wasn't there. Just pointless, senseless, and random destruction. That corruption you fear, and don't want to come around your neck of the woods, is a living, breathing, fucking thing around these parts. It doesn't discriminate, it doesn't favor one for another, it just is. It's a force, hard to stop, impossible to detect, and it still hunts to this day. I understand if some of what I say confuses you; you aren't human. Some of this is just going to get lost in translation. And I don't care. The people understand me, and they're the ones I'm beholden to.

See, that's the thing about people you just fail to fucking grasp. Understanding. It's really an act, not something that comes around. We strive to understand when the inexplicable happens. Like when some tart from a second rate Final Fantasy: Mystic Quest knockoff starts to beat us humans down to deny us from ever having what you took again. I understand it, kid, and only all too well. You don't care about what is important, or valuable to us. You don't even try to reconcile our existence. Our short, fragile, so-called pathetic and worthless lives all carried out to suffer, and suffer to a fate worse than a thousand deaths in the eyes of someone so shortsighted and stupid they think only one world needs to be saved.

You fucking brainless asshole.

I mean, you call what you wear mid-tier? That's a dead giveaway right there, and I have to agree. Around your waist, it is definitely mid-tier. See, you've hit your roof, haven't you? You aren't in any mind to progress, to move forward. Just more steps to the right and left, never stepping in the direction you should be headed. Do you know why? I fucking know why. I fucking know why! You come here because you think we're a game. You're here to have some alien, unknowable fun at our expense. But enough about you, and what you are, and why you are wrong. This is where the Game Girl story ends, and let's face it, where the people's story begins.

To clear the air, I want to let you know that I am not Maverick. I'm not Austin Fernando. I'm not LH Harrison. I'm Robbie Bourbon. You've faced people from Earth before, but you sure as fuck haven't faced off against me. If you think any of those guys are indicators, then sister, you've got another fucking thing coming. They actually feared you for some reason. It's like they had some trepidation, some mystery to solve as to why they were even fighting you. Not me. I've got you pegged. There's no questioning that. I know what you are, how to get to you, and even what you're afraid of.

I am bulletproof. Seriously, I am. I've been shot so many times it's almost ridiculous. Besides that, I'm also tougher than a coffin nail and prone to beating the high holy hell out of shitheels and slimebags around my planet. Those intangible evils that we humans are oh so famous for, well, I've confronted a few of them. One of them I pulled myself off a gurney on it's way to the emergency room to go beat on so bad that we haven't heard from him since. One of them I literally flung from the ring so hard they haven't competed since. One of them I put on a god damned hook and left him dangling. Maybe you haven't noticed, stud, but I'm the one people around here fear these days, not Game Girl.

I am nothing without the people.

I am nothing without the support they give, the hope they have, the happiness they crave, and the light they deserve. I am the fool who's lost everything for them, and then kept on to fight for them. I am a vagabond, a citizen of their world, subject to their freedom, and bringer of their judgment. I will fight, and then I will fight, and then I will fight, and then I WILL FIGHT! I will fight until the day is gone, and then I will fight until the dawn breaks. I will stand up and be what these people need me to be. While others participate in their own dalliance on Sunday, I will meet you on Friday as the champion of my people, and I will defeat you, and I will make what you call a "mid-tier belt" a championship worth fighting for, every god damned Wednesday, in any god damned town, to any god damned challenger with a fucking chip on their shoulder and the stupid, stupid notion that they think stepping into the ring with Robbie Bourbon, a humble man of the people, is good for their health. I will be the champion they deserve. Not some greedy creature hoarding their treasure, stepping out into the light only to keep their gold.

You've caught me on a bad fucking day. How bad? That fucking bad fucking day bad kind of bad bad fucking day. You've come to play with us humans again, and found out that you got yourself snagged by a force. A battering ram smashing out the path to a better future, and no matter what a struggle it might be to some of us, it will continue to plow forward, onward, and upward. I used to think I was momentum, but I'm past that now. I am the people, and you can never put the people down.

Pray, meditate, defrag, I don't care. The only thing stopping me now from taking back for humanity that championship you cheapen would be divine intervention.