What's the matter Billy? Cat got your tongue? Where's your mouthpiece at?

Did he kick your ass to the curb once you got your ass beat by the same dude you pinned for this belt in the first place? Because that's some weaksauce shit right there and that's a #fact. I know you're probably signing frantically, all like "but Zane you aren't even a wrestler what are you doing" and you're right. I'm not a wrestler. You know what I am, though? The best manager the XWF has ever seen. Just look at my clients, Luca Arzegotti and Austin Fernando. Since being taken under my tutelage, Luca Arzegotti is in possession of gold for the first time since his rookie year. And Austin? He's not only tag champ, he's the X-Treme Champion too, motherfucker.

The second highest belt in this bitch.

The big belt. The opportunity of a lifetime.

Where you at Percy?

Hiding because the best you could do for ol' #mutefuccboi here is get him this title that ain't ever been relevant? Way to go man, you're a manager extraordinaire. Extraordinarily shit.

Me? I'm just gonna take this belt from you and your boy if he even is still your boy that is, and along with the #FernLucaPowerTrip, I'm gonna make it relevant. People are gonna care about this when #KingZane has it on lock.

I'm a saint.

You're welcome, XWF.

"But wait Zane you ain't gonna let these #fuccbois off that easy are ya?"

Great question me. No, I'm not. Let's look at this Billy Paladin dude closely. Examine him from the head down to the dick because, you see, it's so totally in vogue to call my clients gay so of course I'm sure the Paladin camp's gonna throw me under the pride parade float too. Might as well play to it.

Who'd Billy Paladin ever beat?

Tush? For this belt? That'd be impressive if he didn't turn around and get #bodiedbytheloungelizard during an actual sanctioned match.

"Meme Machine" Mike Green? Didn't really win, more just kinda kicked out and ran off.

Masked Man? Italian Vampire? Shit man are these even real people or did they just get scrubs off the street to fill up the gauntlet?

In conclusion, when you look for the answer to the all important question of who'd Billy Paladin ever beat, the answer is nobody. Not one. And he ain't gonna beat the #FernLucaZane hypetrain right now.

Look at everyone who's fallen to it already.

Alexis Riot. Former X-Treme Champ.

Justice Drake. Stronger prospect than Billy Paladin.

Pest. Tag champ that one time. We all try to forget that one time but it happened.

Robbie Bourbon. Fought Game Girl that one time.

Peter Gilmour. Certified legend.

Dim. Former tag champ, trios champ, and X champ.

Cyren. Certified legend.

Paladin's just another body.

And we got bodybags on deck.

You're welcome again, XWF.

Zane Kingsley III walks up to Billy Paladin and blasts him with the jaw with the Oakland Special! He takes his chain and puts it back on before placing one foot on Billy's pin, tweeting while the ref goes for the count.

Percy throws a switch and the hum of electricity is heard. A giant electromagnet turns on and pulls Kingsley off by his chain.

"Hello, sir, nice to make your acquaintance, sir, not sure who the fuck you are, sir, but it looks like you're used to having to explain who the hell you are to people, sir. You're acting all big time when you just shop lifting from Target for minimum wage, acting like busting fuckboys up is the latest rage, that shit's been going on since the stone age, small time motherfucker don't even got a roster page. Shit, you aren't even a contender, pretender, you best shut your mouth, leave and surrender, because you've come 'round to a Federweight defender leaving a stamp on your face that reads return to sender."

Billy gets to his feet, pulls out a rubber stamp, and applies it to Kingsley's forehead. It reads "return to sender". Percy turns the crank, and debris flies past Billy and crashes into the electromagnet to his and Kingsley's sides.

"You're coming around here, spewing more bullshit than the bull, sir, and that can't stand on legs. Have you ever seen shit walk, I think it usually just goes down the pipes, sir, unless you're carrying it around with you, sir, which would explain the stink coming off you, sir. You came to the place looking for a mouth, where's your fighter? Damn, you predicted I'd say that, didn't you? Guess that means you knew you'd get your ass beat too, didn't you? Shit, it's a shame you can't use your powers to win the lottery. You're not in shape to deal with Billy, never was, never will be, you coming around is just fucking silly. Get gone, never was, wannabe Chris Tucker, low rate, dollar store, no hustle, just a sucker, on your knees, eyes up, give your lips a little pucker, lick my shoe, kiss my ass, suck my dick, motherfucker."

We see Kingsley's phone slide out of his pocket and clack against the electromagnet, thoroughly bricked. Billy takes the Federweight Title off of his waist and dangles it in front of Kingsley.

"Oh shit, what's this, looks like you lost signal, sir, you don't have any bars, sir, your reception is failing you, sir. How the fuck will you watch for what to say next? You got your hand on twitter and your head up your sphincter, recycling your own shit like German porn. This here #mutefuccboi, sir, you couldn't fuck with, sir, until you could generate some bullshit kind of wiki about him, sir, and you like to dwell on the past. You come off as a fuckboy with no class. You're just spewing nonsense with no chance to take the title from Paladin, maybe if you had some balls you could but you left Luca and Austin at home."

Billy lets go of the Federweight Championship belt and it smacks Kingsley in the face. Percy turns the electromagnet off as Billy catches his belt before it hits the ground with Zane.

"When you get home, remember #billybeatmyass."

Hey look Percy is here! For a second there I thought you just left your boy to die after he got embarrassed in the gauntlet by the dude he beat for this title but you got some conviction. Though in reality you would've been better off just telling Billy to #lookattheflowers and then putting him out of his misery but you aren't the brightest bulb in the box so it's no surprise you didn't. I figure you doubt you could even pull in another client.

Enough about that though, since Percy's trying to play every fuccboi's favorite game.

"I can't really come back to anything you said so I'm going to act like I've never heard of you."

So fine, I'll bite. I'm everything you want to be you walking blaxploitation caricature. I'm the man with the successful clients, unlike you. I'm the man who people recognize on the street, unlike you. I'm the man who actually gets people to listen, unlike you.

In short, I'm the opposite of you.

But please, keep on spitting weak rhymes about shit that doesn't matter, like me not having a roster page on the XWF website despite me being a fucking manager but wait shit, didn't that fuccboi from Detroit beat the other mute around these parts? Last I checked, he didn't have one either so I guess that little myth you half-assedly tried to get going about needing a roster page on the site beat mofos is #busted.

Just like everything out of your fuccboi mouth though ain't it? You can't make a decent point to save your life so you're just floundering throwing everything you got at the wall. Too bad all of it's bouncing right off and socking you in the mouth.

Also, stop rapping. You're shit at it. You sound like a fourteen year old trying to be clever, just throwing in a bunch of rhyming words with no sense of coherence.

Rat. Bat. Cat. Hat.

Badaboom bitch boy, I just ended your whole career and I'm not even a rapper. And I'm going to take your boy's title and I'm not even a rapper. I'm just a manager/agent/social media GOD man, and I'm laying you and your finest to rest.

Every time I inhale, you ought to brace yourself because unlike you, I'm spitting that hot fire all day, every day.

Once again, I ask, who the fuck did Billy Paladin ever beat?

That's right, the answer is absolutely #nobody.

Better manager right here.

Better fighter right here and I don't even get paid for that.

#BodiedbyZane and you best believe that fuccboi.

Zane gets up, dusts himself off, wraps his Jesus piece around his fist and decks Billy once more with that #OaklandSpecial before hitting up that pinfall again.

Billy kicks out of the pin caused by Kingsley's limp wristed punch.

"What the hell is this, some mosquito still buzzing around? I heard of the Pest in the XWF, but this ain't what was advertised. A whiny motherfucker who blows himself out of proportion, you would have done the world better as a wire hangar abortion, but step up with your tray kid, I will cook you up a portion. You're outmatched, outclassed, outdone, and out maneuvered, going from suck to blow like a switch on a Hoover, still insisting your belong like a pesky younger brother, little child in a diaper, why don't you go and call your mother."

Billy takes a stroller that the magnet pulled and hits Kingsley with it.

"What's the matter, nobody brought your ba-ba? You miss your pacifier and your crib, dude, and the consternation of your bullshit dissertation can't beat my adlib, dude. Your words are weak and it's turning into gibberish, go give the goo-goo ga-ga to some stanky skanky chlamydia giver bitch. Your style is so shit that it can only impress yourself, so chin up, have your pride, not everybody can win, sir, and you tell yourself you're a winner, sir, but that shit's as empty as the tit you suck for dinner."

Billy slams Zane into the stroller and puts a bonnet on him as he cries.

"If you're butt hurt now, you better grab some tissues, it's high time we explored your little mommy issues. Was she too busy with a pipe, a dick, a bottle to give your attention? You strut yourself out to get your ass kicked in some Federweight contention, maybe that'll make your mommy step forth and give you a mention, but she's locked up for being a crack whore, call your lawyer on retention. Your mom, sir, is a filthy piece of shit, sir, who gave herpes to syphilis, sir, gave syphilis to AIDS, sir, and she ain't give AIDS the time of day since he didn't call her back after that exciting blowjob out behind the dumpster, sir. I would have that bitch turning tricks for hard candy if it wouldn't hurt my pimp game. Why'm I talking 'bout your momma? Garbage in, garbage out, you're the same."

Billy lets kicks off of the magnet and does a springboard moonsault onto Zane.

"Little bitch boy running errands for two, I'll have you running for one. Handjobs $50 a piece, Zane, I get $25, don't lick your hands clean.

Thomas walks around with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, when he notices Zane pinning Billy. He's about to count, but he notices Billy kicking out. He shrugs, and moves along with his day.

Winner and STILL Federweight Champion: Billy Paladin!