Robbie recently recanted a story of his first trip to Mexico. Since then, Glisten has gotten back in touch with the XWF Universe, letting them know how he felt about the big guy. Perhaps the tenor the wrestler America deserves had an effect on Glisten.

Perhaps not.

ONLY ON WARFARE

We open scene to show Robbie Bourbon outside of a hotel in Monterrey, which is a miracle considering he drove to Warfare while making appearances on Monday Night Madness. He looks no worse for the wear, no signs of jet lag whatsoever. In fact, he's beaming. He's got a huge pair of aviator shades on in the direct sunlight of beautiful downtown Monterrey.

Hello Monterrey, and HELLO MEXICO!

Passers by on the sidewalk sort of glance at him, some with looks of disdain or shock at the large man in a lucha mask just shouting at someone holding a phone in broad daylight.

Ladies and gentlemen of Mexico, I bet you can barely understand me right now, but that's okay! I've got a new device! Hit the SAP button and you too can understand me. I'll give you a minute.

Robbie puts his hands on his hips and waits a full minute.

Okay? Good. Now, first off, I'd like to address all the XWF Universe regarding Monday Night Madness. See, I'm a man of the people. There may be some naysayers running around here and there waiting to call what that means something entirely different than what I mean by it, so let me clear the air. For starters, you can ask all my broskis in my stable, the Dangerous Alliance!

With that, the Dangerous Alliance, walks out and stands past Robbie's right shoulder, nodding in approval.

Or, if you don't take their word for it, you can ask my dopes in my stable, the Dope Show!

With that, the Dope Show walks out and stands past Robbie's left shoulder, nodding in approval. The Dangerous Alliance recognizes their arch-rivals, the Dope Show, and they immediately erupt into a huge brawl! Robbie looks over his shoulder as more passers-by flee in terror, recognizing the danger of the situation. He turns back, shrugs and gives a crooked smile as he takes a few steps to the right, leaving the fracas out of the camera shot.

Now, I'm definitely taken aback at the kind thoughts and gestures you've brought forward, Glisten.

He's not being nice at all.

No shit. However, that's not why I'm here, talking right now. I mean, this fuck has been driving me into the dirt, pounding at me, crushing me, with the untamed might of the double entendre! You also have a weird habit of calling me 'big boy', which again, your words not mine. I never have to speak for my size, stud, you just go to show that everybody is willing to talk about just how big Robbie Bourbon is. What a way to be remembered!

You want to know what thrills me, Glisten? Do you want to know what it is that makes me giddy, and glorious, and pushes me deeper and harder into a forbidden state of bliss that nothing else can quite touch me like?

The god damned Defective Detective over here. Dude, that's the newest incarnation of Glisten? Sam fucking Spade? Jesus, L.A. Noire was a fun game and all but let's not us start a trend. Well, now that I think about it, you could never be a private dick, you're way too public. I mean, I reckon you tried to beat me to the punch or something, but I can turn Detective Irick into a broken body just like Glisten and turn you into Straw Boy, the Glisten that eats through a tube. Jesus, and you just up and told your boss you'd be going down to Mexico? What police force do you work for, 70's prime time? I can't guess what you'll bring to the table next, dude, but I don't care. You know, I think you'll really dig this; I'm gonna eat it all up and shit magnificence.

And I'm going to do it all on Wednesday night.

That's right, only on Wednesday Night Warfare, the Man of the People, the humanoid landslide, the sheer force of nature itself, Robbie M. Bourbon, coming down to the ring and making money out of fool's gold.