Jack Cain and Robbie Bourbon are sitting in a bar near to Universal Studios in Hollywood, where Savage will take place this forthcoming Saturday. The two Motherfuckers are next to a 50's style jukebox which is playing some ancient hits. Bourbon has a club soda in one hand, his phone in the other, scrolling through XWF.com. Cain, with a Diet Coke sitting to one side of him, is getting increasingly irritated by the Jukebox.

What the Hell are you doing to that thing?

No damned Johnny Cash.

What?

This thing, no Johnny Cash. What kind of a dump has a jukebox with no Johnny Cash?

The kind of dump you wanted us to drink in, because you said that nice place down the road was for "privileged jerks".

Well, it was.

Those people were tourists. Six of them were in wheelchairs! How do you think they're privileged??

Wasn't the wheelchairs, they were flashin' cash around there like they owned the place.

A coke was a buck twenty! Jack that's cheap for Hollywood. I worry about you sometimes.

(Under his breath) I worry about my fuckin' wallet..

What was that?

Nothin'... ah dammit, they don't have any damned Elvis either.

Why did you put this on anyway?

It's offa one of my favourite movies.

What movie had THIS on it?

48 hours with Eddie Murphy and Nick Nolte.

You like that movie?

It's awesome - it's just like us, you're Nick Nolte..

Wait, you think you're Eddie Murphy?

I got the sense of humour, I got the style, I got the comic timing.

Sense of humour? Comic timing? Jack, I think we have to have a talk after Savage.

What about?

Why you're such a cheapskate and why you think you're Eddie Murphy. (Under his breath) Jesus I can't believe I'm having this conversation.

What?

Nothing... look, we came here to talk strategy for Saturday.

I thought the strategy was to just batter 'em?

Think we're gonna need something a bit more inventive than that.

Like what?

Like a bit of psychology.

I can do psychology.

Do you even know what that means?

Yeah... sort of. It's when you go nuts and start hittin' people.

No Jack, it's not.

Oh.

It's when you get into the head of someone.

With a screwdriver?

No.

Oh.

Listen, this is important. You came recommended to join the Motherfuckers - Raven filled up his end of the bargain, now it's your turn. This is our chance. Our chance to put down all the pretenders and get our shot at The Kings. I want you on top of your game.

Alright, alright, whattya got planned?

See here's how I see it - Chris Chaos and Jenny Myst, "The XWF's Resident Power Couple"..

The Pussy and the Pissant?

If you want to put it like that, yes. Now their strength, lies in unity. They're dangerous when they're together. When they're apart, seperated - they're vulnerable. You nearly broke Jenny Myst's back and you've beaten her plenty of times. Use that. Make her afraid, make her scared, remind her when you're in that ring that you've got her number. Let me worry about Chaos.

Well I might have some insurance on that front.

Yeah?

Yeah, I gotta go through the record, but I know a few telecoms guys. They can get hold of phone records from everyone. Chaos included. You'd be surprised who he talks to. Jenny would be surprised who he talks to. And when.

What?

Let's just say I'm bettin' his first speed dial ain't his big titted girlfriend. Chris calls lotsa' "colourful ladies who charge for company" - or at least that's what my guy says. Maybe Jenny would feel a little upset if she knew that?

Just make sure you tell her.

Oh I will.

Now the other thing you have to remember with these two is overconfidence. They think they're untouchable, got a pre-ordained right to be in that ring with The Kings. Confidence breeds complacency. Now you know as well as I do that they'll be talking up their glamorous lifestyle, and sticking it to us we're just a pair of mooks who cant find Johnny Cash on the jukebox, but the truth is it's all a front. That confidence is there to disguise the fact they know you and I can dismantle them. Fracture their dream, ruin their perfect little world and bring reality flooding in over those walls they build to keep nasty people like us out.

Amen. But what about the other two? Fatman and Slobbin?

Do you have nicknames like that for everyone?

I might do.

Do you have one for me?

Yeah.

What is it?

Biscuit.

Biscuit?

Yeah. After Bourbon biscuits.

What?

Google 'em.

Right... ok.. forget it. now Fatman and.... no, Guppy and Scully. Complete opposite of the other two. Couple of nutjobs who's misplaced belief in their alter-egos is their undoing. One of them openly says they're , so psychology isn't gonna do a lot of good here.

So it's just a matter of batterin' 'em?

Pretty much, but there's another weakness you can exploit: Wish fulfilment. These two obviously want to be someone else other than they are, so they pretend to be these characters who are superpowered or dress in black and think they can save the world. So y'know what? Let them. Let them think that they can jump off that top rope, fly through the air like Superman and not get hurt when they land. It's your job to make them hurt when they land. Can you handle that?

I think so.

Now, you're no stranger to comic book characters are you?

What?

Jesus, man - do you not have Netflix?

Net-what?

Never mind - but get someone to download you Daredevil Season Two, you'll know what I mean - anyway, Guppy thinks he's Batman. The Goddamned Batman! So be The Joker. Be Bane, Be Killer Croc, be someone who he will concentrate on, so he starts missing the details. Get him so distracted I can isolate the other one, and we can take them apart, and finish them both.

Now I'm likin' the sound of this, so what we need to do now is...

The conversation is broken up by a three large men who enter the bar.

What's this shit?

The man walks over to the jukebox and hammers the button on the front, abruptly ending the record.

What a load of crap that is - c'mon guys, let's change the tune.

The bartender reaches under the bar. One of the men opens his jacket to reveal a wicked looking knife.

Don't even think about it grandpa.

Cain is up in a flash, and whips the knife from his waistband, spinning him around and pinning his hand to the bar with the blade. One of the other new arrivals grabs him, and hits him with a roundhouse, staggering him.

What's your problem ?

I LIKE the Busboys, fuckface.

And so do I.

Bourbon picks up the ringleader over his head and propels him over the bar, clattering into the bottles behind the bartender. The last intruder grabs Bourbon, but Cain assists, wrestling him away. The Motherfuckers then lift him up off the floor before Bourbon turns to the cowering manager...

We'll pay for the damage next Saturday

And with that, the two giants throw him through the window of the bar, leaving him in a heap on the street. They grab their drinks and down them in one. Bourbon slaps Cain on the back as they leave.

This never would'a happened if they'd had Johnny Cash...