XWF LOADING BAY…

Flashing red and blue sirens…

Medical personnel load what may appear to be a scarecrow sold at Hot Topic leaking cherry juice into the back of an ambulance…

Of course, that’s just what Micheal Graves looks like when you do what Mister Oz did to him post-match…

‘Miss Furry’, still adorned in her cat costume is alternating between weeping… And self-grooming her ‘paws’...

Peter Parkor is… lying on the ground… Still unconscious.

Mark Flynn crosses his arms, tapping his foot

A nurse, in pink scrubs, covered in blood, walks up to the weeping trio…

“I’m sorry, are you… friends of… Mister Graves?”

‘Miss Furry’ just keeps weeping, as Flynn glances at the nurse… he closes one eye, thinking about how to answer that question.

“‘Friend’ is a strong word.”

“We were *sniff* his disciples! His st-students!” Furry stammers, between weeping sessions. “I can’t b-b-believe he’s gone!”

…Flynn exhales, checking his wristwatch. “Please… I’ve seen Gravy’s head EXPLODE off of his body… If he got better from that? He’ll recover from this in a heartbeat.”

The nurse tsk-tsks. “Ach-shoe-ally… and I hate to be the bearer of bad news… But this *could* mean the end of his career… And life!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO *hrrrrrrrrrgh*” Miss Furry curls up into a ball on the ground, before hacking up a hairball on the ground.

The nurse nods solemnly, glancing between the cat woman and Flynn still staring at the back of the ambulance. “I’m wicked sorry to tell ya… I know this must be devastating to hear…”

…Flynn checks his six o’clock, like she must be talking to someone else.

…Flynn turns out and points back to himself, like me?

“Me? Oh, I mean… Not personally. Devastating to my plans and schemes? Perhaps… I WAS gonna use Graves as a proxy to wrest control of the Anarchy Title…” Flynn pfffs with his lips dejectedly. “Can’t imagine that’s in the cards now.”

“Yeah, Mister Graves had just got booked for an Anarchy Title match, right? Unfortunately, that will be impossible. His body is totes PHUCKT.”

“...Fucked?” …Flynn double-takes, finally paying attention. “...Is that a.. Technical term?”

…The nurse looks at Flynn with wide eyes, as she scratches her right arm… “Oh yeah, we say it all the time at the… y’know… medicine place.”

“Hospital?”

“...Oh, Fer sure. Yeah.”

…

Flynn eyes this woman up-and-down, briefly… It dawns on him that the blood on her scrubs is… too dried to be recent.

“Hey, quick question: Are you a real nur-?”

“Hey, Ginger!” An EMT… in clown makeup?... calls out from the ambulance… Which… wait, actually… is that an ice cream van painted red-and-white to look like an ambulance? “Shake a tailfeather! This guy’s organs ain’t gonna sell themselves!”

…The nurse side-eyes Flynn.

”Sorry, ‘Organs ain’t gonna sell themselves’ is another… technical term.”

…Flynn exhales, impatiently.

“Okay, I’m technically still ‘good-aligned’...” Flynn finger-quotes. “So I’ma have to put y’all under citizen’s arr-*HRK*”

The nurse punches Flynn square in the larynx! Surprised, he drops onto his back!

…The ‘nurse’ scampers up the back of the “ambulance”, “GO GO GO!”, she screeches, as she wipes white powder from her nostrils.

The ambulance starts to pull away…

The ‘EMT’ grabs the mask off the Dark Warrior’s face.

“You think we could get something for this?”

“I COULD!” The nurse screeches, latching onto it! “GIMME!”

The ambulance suddenly turns! The mask flies out of their grip and out the back of the ambulance…

Flynn leaps to his feet, jogging after the ambulance…

As it speeds off down to the highway…

…

Flynn catches his breath, rubbing his larynx… He doubles over, catching his breath…

As he spots at his feet…

The Dark Warrior’s mask.