It’s Thursday night and Anarchy is in full effect. The moon is out, the wolves in the crowd are howling, and the pigs in the ring are bleeding each other out. All is right and orderly in the world, at least from the perspective of The Nickleman. With his Goldi around his waist and a big fat joint tucked between his lips, Charlie feels right at home in the gorilla position as he leans against the wall and waits for Big Money Oswald’s match with Tommy Wish to finish up. Charlie puffs on his J as he watches the action in the ring from a television meant for the production team.

As the match dragged on Charlie couldn’t help but be distracted by a large poster pinned up to the far wall. As the TV champion walked over to inspect the poster he could tell it was tracking the progress of the Plump Pigeon tournament. His eyes immediately looked for Centurion’s name.

Jesus Christ, they’re giving him Cooch Sniffer tonight? That’s another easy win for the bitch. I don’t know who the hell Andy is sleeping with to get these kinds of ‘random’ bookings, but I’m sick and tired of this horseshit! The GMs keep letting this guy run through their cans like they’re strippers and Andy’s their best John! Cooch Sniffer has the charisma of a moldy cumsock and the wrestling acumen of an even moldier cumsock! I mean holy hell, there’s just no way Centurion could lose tonight!

Charlie hears a sudden commotion from the commentators on the television screen behind him. Charlie turns around just in time to watch Oswald cover Wish for the 1-2-3. Charlie finishes off his joint before littering the floor with its remnants.

Well Goldi, I suppose that’s our ready signal.

Charlie watches Oswald ascend the entrance ramp while holding his bloody head. The Nickleman grabs a white towel from a nearby rack as he approaches the entrance tunnel and waits to meet the big man. Sure enough, a sweaty and bleeding Oswald shows up just a few seconds later.

I knew you’d beat that little piss-ant, I bet five hundred X-bux on it!

Charlie throws the white towel over to Oswald as soon as the pair make eye contact. Oswald catches the towel before placing it on the side of his head, which appears to have been kicked in. Within a few seconds the towel becomes sticky with blood and entangled in Oswald’s hair.

Only five hundred X-bux? I put one hundred thousand X-bux on you beating Ruby, and I was pretty fifty-fifty on that! Either you vastly underestimated my odds of victory or you barely have a dime to your name.

Well they don’t call me Nickles for nothin’! But shit, what would you say if I told you I have a great proposal for you?

Charlie looks up at the massive man with a conniving grin.

I’d say you’re probably full of shit. Now if you can get out of my way, I’d like to get back to go celebrate my victory in peace and quiet with my beautiful woman and a big bag of cash.

I just gotta take a minute of your time t-

A minute? Do you have any idea how valuable my time is?

Oswald says while shaking his head.

I’ll give you fifteen seconds. Make it quick.

Oswald stands silently in front of Charlie. It takes Charlie a few seconds to think of what to say, but once he comes up with the pitch he starts stringing his words together quickly.

Oswald you’re onehelluva’ fighter and you were a great member of BOB, fuck what Chris Page was on, and shih’nahtha’band is getting back together again and they wannehdmeetah’ ask you t-

Time’s up.

Oswald, still holding the towel up to the side of his head, pushes past Charlie Nickles and walks towards the locker rooms in the back. Charlie is dumbstruck for a second by the impoliteness, but he recovers shortly and starts chasing Oswald down.

Now listen man I just gotta pop the question-

They want me back in BOB, I get it.

Oswald says without even missing a stride.

So, are you in or are you out?

Oswald stops walking and turns to Charlie. Oswald appears to be thinking it over for a second before he responds.

I don’t know. While being in BOB was great, I’ve been doing pretty damn well on my own too. I was an Anarchy God-Champion, I’m about to win this Anarchy tournament, I’ve pretty much become the number one guy on Thursday nights. I have a good thing going on, and I don’t really need BOB for it.

A frustrated crease set into The Nickleman’s forehead as he wiped some excess saliva from his bottom lip.

Oh come on, Oz! Don’t give me that shit! You know you want back in BOB! We have a way better name now, too! I’m in the Brotherhood of BASTARDS, I was never in the Brotherhood of BADDIES! Baddies always sounded so fucking stupid to me, but I got them to fix that issue, and now we’re ready to take off to the MOON, Ozzyy, and we want you with us!

You changed the name? I always liked the name Baddies…

The name’s not important, what’s important is the benefits BOB gives you! You’re right Oz, you ARE the top guy on Anarchy! That’s why you ARE going to win this tournament all on your own, but shit Oz, that means you’re going to have a target on your back! Everyone is going to be gunning for you. That’s why it would be good for you, Big Man Ozzy, to have BOB watching your back!

Oswald flashes Charlie a ‘meh’ expression as his lip twitches upward for a mere moment.

It’s kind of weird to get this message coming from you, Charlie. Are you not mad that I had BOB poison your water for months, getting you to turn into Demos once Bobby Bourbon exposed you to the electrical wiring of the X-tron at last year’s Snow Job?

Charlie becomes clearly agitated at the mention of Snow Job. For a brief second The Nickleman’s face contorts into an angered expression, but Charlie is quickly able to calm himself down by pretending to adjust a non-existent tie around his neck.

Water…water under the bridge. I’m just looking ahead at our future, I’m not focused on the past right now.

Oswald gives a thoughtful nod to Charlie’s words.

That’s mature of you, Charlie. Tell you what…you want me in BOB so bad, Charlie? I’ll make you a deal.

Charlie already looks exacerbated by the negotiations. The Nickleman rubs the temple of his forehead in frustration as he anticipates Oswald’s asking price.

I’m not trading you my fucking soul just to get you in BOB, you dirty bitch!

Well then let’s go with option number two. You have Centurion at the pay per view, right?

Charlie slowly lowers his fingers from his forehead.

Yeah I’ve got that little chicken-necked weasel, so what of it?

Centurion got into the easiest part of the bracket for Sarah Lacklan’s tournament. Random selection my ass! Lichter has been flattened like a pancake every time he’s wrestled someone halfway decent. Even Centurion can't fuck that one up! He might just advance from his side of the bracket, and if he does, I don’t want him going into the finals against me unscathed.

I’m right there with you! Centurion would have to lose half-a-dozen steps and the entirety of his mind before that gestapo cosplayer could beat him…but what exactly are you asking me to do, Oz?

Oswald’s sly smirk turns to a gruesome grin.

I want you to put Centurion through the damn ringer at the pay per view. I’d do it myself, but I have-

Pussy to bang and racks to count- I’m with it, G’. How bad do you want Centurion to get it? I was planning on busting open his pretty face for our paying fans, but if you want that motherfucker to be a cripple I’ll name the stipulation to make it happen.

I want Centurion’s family to beg him to quit. I want Centurion’s family to be so repulsed by what they see at the pay per view that they plead with old man Andy to pull out of the tournament.

That’s fucking dark, Ozzy, so you know I’m all about it. We’ll put his little brats through hell. But I gotta tell ya, Ozzy, I don’t think Centy is going to listen to anything they tell him..

Oh, I know he won’t. I just want his family to be able to say ‘I told you so’ after I break every brittle bone in his puny body.

Charlie looks impressed by Big Money’s big mean streak. The Nickleman can’t do anything to keep a friendly smile from naturally forming on his cracked lips.

So I put Centurion down like a dog at March Madness, then you’ll officially join the new BOB?

Oswald nods. Nickels extends a calloused hand. Oswald extends the hand with the bloodied white towel to Charlie. With the soiled cloth between them Oswald and Charlie shook on the agreement.

I’ll make it happen!

Hope so. I’ll be watching.

Oswald opens the door to his locker room before quickly shutting Charlie out. The Nickleman has an excited look on his face as his gaze drifts down to the championship belt around his waist.

You hear that, Goldi?! Oswald is a definite yes!

Charlie raises and then quickly lowers his fist as a show of celebration. Then, he’s right back to business. He’s a busy guy on Thursday nights, you know? Anarchy doesn’t make itself happen: chaos has to be created.

We should go see what Jenny’s up to. She said she had something to show us…

I sure do!

Jesus Christ where’d you come from!

Charlie turns around so fast he nearly gets whiplash as Jenny Myst seemingly pops out of nowhere. She has a big smile on her face and a lot of energy she can’t contain, so she just can’t stand still.

I found some new toys in my psychiatrist's office when I broke in to write my own prescriptions on his pad, so let’s go play with them!

What uh….what kind of toys are we talking here?

Charlie raises a curious eyebrow as Jenny giggles.

Come and see! I think even that crusty and boring Centurion is going to love what I found!

Oh, did you want to track Centy down before his match so you can show him your shrink’s analbeads?

Uhhhhhh NO! Geez you’re gross. Just come on, you’re burning daylight!

But it’s already like 9pm….

Jenny darts off and starts skipping down the hallway while humming to herself. Charlie can’t help but smile as he starts following Jenny’s trail. After a few twists and turns Jenny Myst tucks away through a small side door in an out of the way hall. Charlie quickly follows behind her with his Goldi sitting pretty around his waist.

Jenny Myst flips the light switch on as Charlie enters into the barren room with no furniture. The plots that Jenny had laid in the darkness are finally brought to light, and Charlie Nickles couldn’t be happier with what he sees. On the floor leaning against the wall sits four large sacks filled to the brim with American nickels. A katana in a Saint Seyeme themed sheath is mounted on the wall above the coins. Charlie crosses his arms and leans against the door as he looks at Jenny Myst with awe.

How’d you find all this stuff?

Well my psychiatrist has a big wishing well outside of his office, so I just fished all of the nickels out of there! I heard it’s bad luck to do that, so hopefully all that bad luck falls onto Centurion when we pelt him with these nickels!

Ha! I like it….but what about the sword?

I guess my psychiatrist is a loser who watches a lot of cartoons, but the sword is real! I tested the metal on one of the homeless guys who catcalled me yesterday, and it really does draw blood!

Charlie chuckles as he steps off the door and heads over to the coins and katana. Charlie gets down on one knee and skims his fingers over the top of the nickel piles.

Centurion’s not going to know what hit him after his match!

Charlie’s eyes shift towards the katana mounted on the wall. Charlie rises and grabs the blade off of the wall. The Nickleman takes a step away from the wall as he draws the blade out from its weird little anime sheath. The katana’s steel shimmers in the light as it is exposed.

So are we using this to circumcise or behead Centurion tonight?

Umm….neither. We’re going to go in the rafters and dump these bags of nickels down on Centurion after his match! From that high up just one of these bad boy Jeffersons can leave a hell of a welt, he’s going to have at least a dozen welts before he can get out of there! I just thought the sword was cool and you might like to have it!

Disappointment washes over Charlie’s face as he realizes that Jenny’s plan doesn’t involve slicing Centurion up with the katana.

What, are we fucking bank tellers now or something? My thirst for blood isn’t going to be satisfied with what you’ve concocted…

Jenny looks over at Charlie with hurt in her eyes as he lowers the katana. Somehow, someway, The Nickleman himself starts to feel a bit bad for shitting on someone’s idea.

But that’s ok, Jenny, because I love this idea!

Oh, joy!

Jenny claps excitedly as Charlie puts a big fake smile on his face. Charlie sheathes the katana before placing it over his shoulder as if it were a barbed-wire baseball bat. Jenny rushes over to a black duffel bag in the corner and pulls out a couple of weird looking canisters. Charlie raises a curious eyebrow as Jenny brings them over for his inspection.

And these are colored smoke bombs, like purple and stuff! We set these up to blast, confuse the hell out of Centurion, then we start dropping the nickelbombs on him!

Charlie gets a big grin on his face as he leans in towards Jenny with anticipation.

Are we going to cause a fire?

Uhmmm, no. They’re just smoke bombs!

But what about the saying? Where there’s smoke there’s fire?

I don’t think that’s supposed to be taken literally!

Charlie leans away wistfully as he starts walking back towards the sacks of nickels.

I guess that would explain a lot, wouldn’t it? I mean, the ashes of old Centy’s career have been smoldering for years, yet there hasn’t been any fire in his heart for quite some time. He moves around from booking to booking like a living zombie, it doesn’t matter to him who he’s fighting or what he’s fighting for, he’s not on a personal quest to be great, he’s just happy to rest forever at his established rank and pedigree. The guy’s never won the uni and he’s got a resume that would qualify him for a ui shot every god-damned quarter if he’d just bother to politik, but he couldn’t care less. He’s just happy to go along and get along.

I suppose he’s soared too close to the sun before: Centurion knows his limitations and he knows them well. He knows if he soars that high again his wings will burn in the sun, and poor Andy just can’t stand the thought of being shown exactly who he is, and exactly where his established rank and pedigree place him. So Centurion just fucks around with pups like Elijah Martin…even while dogs like Charlie Nickles string his woman up in front of a sold-out crowd.

Centurion knows his limitations well…but he doesn't know them well enough. If he did, he never would’ve gone against his better senses and taken a match against Charlie ‘Kido-Killer’ Nickles.

Well that’s all fine and dandy, but we have to get all this stuff ready! Come on, help me haul these coins to the rafters!

Charlie sighs as his eyes roll around in their sockets. He begrudgingly bends down and grabs a heavy as shit sack of coins after he slides the katana between his belt and his waistband. Charlie lifts the bag with his legs like a pro as Jenny Myst does the same with another sack. The pair begin the long and arduous walk up to the rafters as they cleverly maneuver their bags through the open doorway.

So, CHAMP, what match stipulation are you picking for Centurion? I have a few suggestions if you don’t have one in mind!

Oh, I know exactly what match I’m having with Centurion at March Madness: we’re going to be choking each other out in an I quit match! With special guest referee-

Jenny drops her sack of coins halfway up the stairs to the rafters before turning back excitedly to look at Charlie.

Ruby!

Jenny’s jaw immediately slacks as her excitement turns to pure annoyance.

Ruby?

Charlie, noticing that the congo line is no longer moving, also drops his sack of coins.

Of course! It’ll be funny as shit to make Centurion bitch out in front of HIS bitch! That’s called irony, and that’s comedy fucking gold! PLUS, ol’ Ozzy boy told me to make Centurion’s family watch him quit and he will join BOB! Or at least Oz said some shit like that, I don’t exactly remember, I was pretty fucking stoned off that Burn The World.

Jenny’s shocked annoyance soon gives way to genuine bemusement. She rolls her eyes and turns around to pick up her sack of coins.

You’re unbelievable, Charlie.

The Nickleman’s hearty guffaw is the last thing we hear before the scene fades to black.