Madison Dyson's BMW screeches to a halt in front of what looks to be a convention center. Leaving it idling, she exits the car and walks around the front of it with a purpose. The valet approaches her, and she throws the keys at his face without so much as sparing him a glance.

Scratches....death and dismemberment...blah...blah..blah....

Pushing her way through the front door, she removes her designer sunglasses and takes a look around before overhearing a voice in the distance and settling on a direction. The camera follows just over her shoulder as she winds her way through the convention center, soon finding herself in a backstage area. Folding up her sunglasses and placing them in her purse, Madison looks about again with her face buried in a deep frown. Where the fuck are you?

Right here!

GAH!

It is I....KELLYANNE CONWAY!



Madison reels back from the shambling corpse that just popped in from seemingly out of nowhere. Holy hell, you look worse than ever!

I know! Aren't I magnificent! She claps her hands together, but as she does so her palms adhere together. With a grunt, she forces them back apart, but the flesh from her left palm peels right off, revealing exposed bleached bone beneath. Madison looks like she's gonna hurl. Whoopsie daisy!

Covering her mouth, Madison chokes back some bile. Jesus, what the hell do you want? Why am I here?

Oh Madison! Thank you ever so much for coming on such short notice! I would not have summoned you if it weren't a true emergency. You see, Donald was supposed to give a speech to some very important constituents here today, but he...erm....had to complete part 7 of his physical!

Another heart attack?!

Oh heavens no! Just a mild stroke! Very mild! Almost insignificant really!

Madison looks suspicious. Is he dying?

No, of course not! Of course not! But, he was unable to be here today, so I called on someone whose gift of oratory is almost on the level of his to pinch hit. I'd do it myself but I look like Norman Bates' mother. Follow me!

Kellyanne summons Madison over to a backstage staging area just behind a large curtain. She picks up a notebook off a nearby table and hands it to Madison. I'm sure you'll do great! Here's Donald's notes! Off you go!

Wait! Right now? I don't get any prep time? Who the hell am I even talking to?!

Kellyanne puts the palm of her good hand on Madison's back and pushes her through the curtain. Knock 'em me!

Suddenly thrust through the curtain, Madison finds herself under the hot lights in front of an expectant crowd of onlookers. Off to stage left, she sees Lindsey Graham beating a hasty retreat. Muttering a curse, she walks up to the podium, but as she does so can't help but be overcome by a pungent odor. It smells like unwashed virgin in here! She cranes her head around to look at the banner hanging above her.

INCEL CON 2019!

She covers the microphone. OH FUCK ME! I should have guessed when I saw that guy hawking all those Thaddeus Duke Funko Pops in the lobby. Well at least I have some notes to go by....



FUCK ME DOUBLE TIME! She tosses the useless notes down atop the podium and looks out at the sea of greasy unwashed neckbeards and paunchy white bodies. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and goes to her peaceful place in her mind.



You got this girl, you got this. Opening her eyes, she pulls her hand away from the mic and sets in. Mediocre white men, lend me your ears! She announces triumphantly. I'm very sorry that our lord and savior Donald J. Trump couldn't be here tonight. He was caught up donating penile stem cells to science so that they could unlock the mystery of big dick energy. This draws some whoops from the meekly endowed in the audience. But it is my pleasure to be the conduit of his message here tonight.

2020 will be turning point for this nation. Marxist Socialist pederasts are threatening to undo all of the progress we've made since Barrack Hussein Obama was impeached and thrown out of office. Under our president, legal immigration is at an all time low, illegal immigration is a memory, there is a mighty wall surrounded by crocodiles at our southern border, taxes are at -2%, and the constitution was just amended to acknowledge Q-anon's contribution to our democratic process.

The crowd hoots and hollers, eating up all this without question.

But, there is still MUCH work left to be done! Namely, for all of you in this room. You see, there used to be a time in this country when being an average (or below average) white man afforded you certain benefits. You were hired for any job unconditionally. Automatically granted access to the best schools. And you could be pulled over by a cop without being subjected to an invasive rectal exam. Actually, that last one's still true. Anyway! Things just aren't quite the same for boring, nondescript white men anymore though are they? And I haven't even mentioned the biggest area white men have gotten shafted in! Madison eyes the crowd coyly as their anticipation mounts. She milks it for all it's worth, letting it build and build until sweet sweet release!

But I am here to GUARANTEE that if you vote for Donald J. Trump in 2020.....ALL OF YOU WILL GET SEX!

The incels blow the roof off the place. A cacophony of reedy, high pitched soy boy cheers of triumph sound throughout the room.

Madison hops out from behind the podium, drawing on the pathetic energy of the crowd like a charging battery. Walking all up and down the stage, she points out random cucks in the crowd and chants. YOU GET A SEX! YOU GET A SEX! AND YOU GET A SEX!



EVERYBODY GETS A SEX!

By now, the crowd is eating out of the palm of Madison's hand like the ineffectual, puppy like limp dicks that they are. Pumping her fist in the air as the crowd starts to chant “TRUMP! TRUMP! TRUMP!” Madison returns to the podium and gestures for them to quiet down, which they do immediately because they are very accustomed to taking orders and not having a spine. Yes that's right! A THOT for every basement! A JUMPOFF for every sex dungeon! A BINT for every man cave! No longer will a woman get to reject your advances! Sex will be MANDATED and ON DEMAND!

Madison pounds the podium triumphantly as the incels leap awkwardly and try to high five each other but mostly miss and smack each other in the faces.

Hey, uhhhh, IT dorks? Let's get a monitor going and bring up some images of Atara Themis and Geri Miller. Mama's gonna kill two birds.

Almost immediately, a large monitor drops down from the ceiling behind Madison, and still images of Atara and Geri appear on it. The tenor of the audience changes immediately, becoming instantly vitriolic with boos and hisses and shouts of “fucking slut” and “whores!” and “4 inches is average!”

I know, I know! You know I hate 'em too! These are exactly the kind of bitches who turn you poor guys down every single day. And where the fuck do they get off? Not with you, right?! More booing and hissing. Take Geri here, this one doesn't seem too outside your par right? She might even seem like a good idea, marginally not ugly alt rock skater grrrl that she is. Until you have to put up with her BULLSHIT, that is!

Yeah, you might think she's the total package, but in reality she's “all that and a mental health diagnosis”. Just wait until she refuses to bathe for two weeks because she “had a feeling” and ends up smelling like vagina sweat and kush. Only good thing is that these chicks are pretty easy to neg. They like to act all hard and like shopping at a thrift store constitutes a personality, but in truth they're all insecure as fuck. Ever notice how much Geri here loves to wear baggy clothing? Yeah, that's because she's the kind of broad who spirals into a month long binge and purge bender because you looked at her when she asked for seconds at Thanksgiving. If you straight up call her fat she'll probably hang herself with a studded leather belt in the dressing room at Torrid. Heh! And she has the gall to think she's better than you?!

The crowd boos raucously again.

Weak man, totally weak! She jerks a thumb back at Atara's image. And then there's this bitch right here. Madison waits a bit for things to die down. Here's what always blows my mind. We got these bitches coming into the XWF, knowing what an absolute gibbering lunatic of a company it is. Knowing just how insane and over the top its legacy is. And they get to thinking about how they're gonna stand out from the pack, ya know, really form a connection with the fans. And what do they come up with?

I'm a hot chick.

The simmering resentment of these forever virgins is palpable.

I'm a hot chick. That's what they got. And then they walk up in here thinking like that's some truly bleeding edge shit, like...holy fuck....why didn't I think of just being hot?! Mind blown. And yeah, that might garner them a few weeks of erections and an arenas worth of seats with damp spots, but then what? Huh? I mean, yeah sure, I bet Atara has people she cares about and hopes and dreams and aspirations blah, blah, blah....but check out those cans! She smirks. That's it. And by the looks of things, she's already run out of shit that makes her interesting considering how she's suckling at the teat of two bit comedy acts like Thunder Knuckles and Drezdin.

Atara, you notice how the XWF doesn't have a whole lot of women in it? Honey, that's because bajeesus billions of creatively bankrupt, empty headed twits like you have come in to shake their tits for the camera and promptly been shown the door when the novelty wore off before the ink on the contract was dry. You think your special? You're dime a dozen.

And you know what Pumpkin Spice Latte, Craisins in the Macaroni Salad, Basic Bitch Atara is gonna say about this? She's gonna say Madison's jealous and Madison's old. She might even crib #Boomer and make it a glomming on to XWF court jesters trifecta. Atara, what the fuck do I care about what you look like when I'm about to hit the top of the food chain here once more? You're swimming in the kiddie pool while I play water polo in the deep end.

People here are often tempted to not take me seriously, and honestly, I get it. I'm pretty outrageous. I say a lot of fucked up things. But I'm also the most dangerous woman in the XWF. And it's not because of my impeccable wrestling (although I've won 11 championships across multiple promotions), but it's because I'm not the best wrestler....and I STILL come out on top. Or did you not check how I laid claim to our new Universal champion at Lethal Lottery simply because I could? Here's another one for you. That chick that you were pissing yourself over a few weeks back, Mercy? She worked for me. I was her fucking BOSS. I CONTROLLED that and I cut HER lose when she stopped being useful.

Are you picking up what I'm putting down? The deadliest thing you have yet faced in the XWF is somebody who would jump when I told her to jump.

Yeah bitch, have a laugh about how jelly I am. I leash monsters, Barbie. What you got?

Nothin'. Say it with me. Nothin.'

Madison looks up from the podium and becomes aware that the momentum of her audience is starting to die down as she went labia deep into a promo. Tapping her fingers on the podium, she leans right into the mic and makes a proclamation. I also have it on good authority that Atara called Elliot Rodger SMELLIOT Rodger!

And they...lose...their...minds! With a roar of impotent rage, the incels start flipping over tables, breaking chairs, and running for the doors to enact their revenge on females everywhere!

Yes....fly my pets! FLY! Bring me the head of Atara Themis! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Madison cackles.

Kellyanne shambles out onto the stage, looking pensive. Maybe we should leave before they remember that we're female?

Heeehhhhhhhh, yeah maybe. I mean, I am. Jury's still out on you. Madison reaches for her phone and pulls it out, quickly dialing a number. Hey, yeah, its me. I caused another violent upheaval. Yeah....yeah....gonna need an extraction. Thanks bubee. She ends the call and watches as a fire is lit down below, looking oddly unconcerned.

Madison, we need to leave! My dry, scabby flesh will go up like kindling!

Relax Mumm-Ra, my people got this.

Madison considers her finger nails, looking completely at peace with what's going on. Kellyanne tries to look poised, and an odd silence opens up between them before Kellyanne breaks it. Hey, so what did happen to Lux anyway?

Top secret. Can't discuss it. Sorry.

Ah. Understandable.

Madison starts whistling as the fire draws ever closer to the stage, devouring broken tables and chairs in its wake. Kellyanne fidgets uncomfortably.

Uhhhhh....

Suddenly, the roof is blown off the convention center by a controlled explosion! A DRW helicopter hovers over the empty hole and some intimidating looking mercenary grunts in high tech looking battle armor rappel down. Madison hops into one of their arms like it ain't no thang and Kellyanne eventually does the same.

Later, assholes! Madison flips the camera the bird as she and Kellyanne are airlifted to safety.