Robbie Bourbon has narrowed down the location of the mysterious 'Marco' to a shopping mall in Charlottesville shortly after mowing down a brigade of SS troops in historic downtown Charlottesville. The nazi threat seemingly under control at the hands of himself and his fellow Motherfuckers, Robbie can now focus on his main objectives.

The second being indeed using Chris Chaos as a punching bag. Isn't like Robbie's hitting anybody or anything else for a full hour at King of the Ring.

THE CONFRONTATION WITH A MIND CONTROL SPECIALIST IN A SHOPPING MALL.

War-torn Charlottesville. We see a police officer speaking with Robbie Bourbon and Blue, Robbie's girlfriend and handler, near the scene of a downed messerschmidt as flack flies through the skies, trying to deter Allied bombers. Robbie is looking intently at the officer.

Look, I can't give you my cruiser.

I have this ID though...

I need it. There's all sorts of shit happening.

Well, I need a car.

The cop rubs his chin. Robbie snaps his fingers as his eyes go wide.

Don't you have a silver Dodge Challenger in impound?

The cop looks at Robbie.

...yeah.

I'll buy it for seven thousand dollars.

I can't...

Call someone who can.

The officer walks back to his cruiser and sits inside, getting on his radio.

How did you know a silver Challenger was in impound?

The news. Look, that parade float was a piece of garbage. Fun, but really uneccessary for this manner of crime fighting hyjinx. I need something a little faster, something that'd get me to Charlottesville before the blitzkrieg swept through.

Robbie pulls a device from his pocket and walks up to a panzer sitting in a field, it's crew inside taking a nap in the air conditioned war machine. Robbie sticks the device to it, which beeps and shows a red light blinking, looking just like a timed mine from Goldeneye007 for the N64. As Robbie walks away, a massive explosion is seen behind him, destroying the enemy tank and the SS rabble inside. The officer walks back up to him, giving him a high five for taking out the tank for him.

Okay, look, we'll sell it for ten thou. Take it or leave it.

Blue looks up from her phone, watching a video from the past week in Charlottesville.

You mean this guy isn't getting his car back?

Nope. We just totalled it. No insurance company will cover it without repairs.

I got it.

Robbie reaches in his pocket and pulls out a multitool. He's wearing cargo pants, lots of pockets, and a black tank top along with his mask. Very action figury looking.

A montage starts to show Robbie arriving at the impound lot, then seeing a silver Dodge Challenger with a destroyed front bumper, then finding a huge toolshed with the aide of a friendly looking impound lot worker pointing in the right direction and smiling, being all fatherly or like a swell uncle that never molested you, even though you were cute enough for it. There's a shot of Robbie lighting a butane torch. There's a shot of Robbie under the car on a dolly, his legs sticking out as he pulls pieces of someone's hip bone out of the radiator. The montage finishes as we see the vehicle now looks like the Challenger from Mad Max. The clock shows this took mere moments as Robbie is in a hurry to confront a mind control specialist and all.

Robbie hops into the vehicle and tears off for the mall.

Hehehehe.

A video display opens in the center console of the car, just like Batman or Austin Powers or James Bond would have. We see the the computer animated face of Einstein as drawn and animated by students in the mid nineties.

Vhy are you laughing?

The thick Austrian accent imposed on the poorly animated, brightly colored thing on the screen is spot on.

Well, Chris is going to piss and moan forever about how I didn't mention him in this part of the promo.

Vhat promo?

Well, I just got a new car, and you're a bad ass. I even went Knight Rider with that shit because I thought it was a good idea. Things are getting crazy around here and that just means the cameras are starting to roll. You'll figure it out, bud.

Ah. I shee.

Cool. Did you actually used to go to the bathroom in your pants as an adult on the regular?

Vhat? I vas created a few minutes ago in zat garage! I don't even undershtand mine purpose here!

Oh, right, you're not that Einstein. So, you're here to be my fucking awesome vehicle. I needed a new whip. One that won't get stolen.

I'm an antitheft device?

Well, sorta, yeah. You can defend yourself independently of me.

Vhat?

You're an artificial intelligence, yeah?

Ya.

So you can learn to drive this car. I'll give you lessons later, right now just watch what we do.

You're going to fast! Zat sign said you need to go fourty-five miles an hour.

The car starts to slow. Robbie rolls his eyes and presses a blue button by the monitor. The vehicle picks up more speed.

Okay, so you don't get control of the car yet.

Ach, you've put in an override!

That's right. Now, just monitor behaviors, prepare to record happenings at the mall.

Okie dokie!

Robbie peels into the empty Charlottesville Mall parking lot and stops the car in a cool spin out 180, right in front of the main door. Robbie hops from the car and runs in.

Vhat do you vant me to do?

Stay in park.

Robbie runs into the mall and sees corpses strewn about the floor. Somewhere inside the mall, deeper, we can tell Technotronic is playing as Pump Up The Jam echoes from somewhere, the rest of the mall still, and lifeless. Robbie's face goes grim as he sees the death, and hears the early nineties dance hit that he kind of likes but doesn't want to look like it's making the mood any better. Robbie glances towards a Sears, and sees inside a large grouping of people, hiding, one waving towards Robbie. Robbie waves back, and motions his hand downward.

"Good to see not everybody died. What happened here?" Robbie crouches and duckwalks his way towards Sears. He approaches the person who waved at him, and counts around fifteen others hiding here. "Several more pockets may be throughout the mall. I should speak with them if I see them." Robbie nods as the person jaws at him, inaudible since we're stuck in Robbie's head. "So, five men in their underwear started to run around with shotguns? There was a sixth, not in his underwear, but in a black cloak, his head covered?" We exit the mind of Robbie Bourbon.

Wait, this person was completely unidentifiable?

"Yes sir, completely shrouded."

That bastard! Staying mysterious still!

"I know! So, you gotta go deal with him or something so we can get out of here."

Where is he?

"He's in the middle of the mall. Check the map over there."

Robbie stands up, thanks the person, and turns. "The map? Weird." Robbie walks over to the map and checks it. There's actually a marker with his monicker on it, and his eyes go wide. "Someone is calling me out. About time, too. Chris Chaos has done a piss poor job of it so far. That dehydrated and spent sack of shit needs some kind of refresher. Maybe he could be the chicken man or something, I don't know. Chicken Suckin' Chris Chaos. Every match, you could slurp down a bucket of Bojangles, Popeyes, AND Kentucky Fried Chicken straight off the bone, appeal to some fetish demographic." Robbie starts to walk towards the center of the mall. "I mean, this mind control guy is way more complicated than you are. I have no idea how to fight a mind control guy. Never done it before. You, Chris, you I could do this with forever. I've fought you twice so far. I obviously cheated you of a victory before, just like you've been cheated out of everything ever since, boo fucking hoo. Cry, piss, and moan about it, do nothing really though. Piss and moan about what I said, what I could have said, blah blah blah. Actions speak louder than words, and Chris Chaos gets as much action as Chris Christie's treadmill. How do you let a urethra collect dust like that? Hey, that's a great gimmick shift, a way to get some headway, avoid that lame name of yours once and for all, be Chris Christie. It's bound to be more interesting than another round of 'holy crap I was cheated' followed by the awkward silence of an insecure man who backpeddles over his own words and can deliver defense mechanism after defense mechanism after defense mechanism, until he's cycled through and shown all of them." Robbie glances at a turn in the mall and listens for whatever muffled music was being played, walking in that direction. "I've read you like a book, Chris. There's no surprising anybody since you've shown us all your tricks already. I don't have to wonder what's going to happen in the ring. It's Chaos, getting repetitive in the ring over sixty minutes, telegraphing the same crappy three moves you get by in your matches, getting peppered with so many different Robbiebomb variations you'll lose count after two. Possibly due to dislodgement of a vertebrae. See, I have a very founded notion of what I'm saying when I say your body will go through hell. Can you count the Robbiebombs, Chris? How many there are? Nope. You're busy with a thumb up your ass wiping a tear from your eye about how Christmas came and went without it's Universal choo-choo and you felt all alone. You won't rewatch what happened to your body, the trauma of a spinal column hitting the floor at the constant of gravity plus whatever oomph I get behind it. Fuck me, whatever oomph I get behind it is the chaotic variable, because lots of different Robbiebombs carry lots of different oomph!" Robbie stops as we leave his head, hearing Move This by Technotronic. Someone is a fan. The camera pivots to show a cloaked figure sitting in the middle of the mall in a comfy looking lounger. Beside them are five men in their underwear and wearing local sherrif hats, dancing with shotguns.

Enough! This twisted mind control game you're playing ends now, 'Marco'.

Marco stands and looks at Robbie. The five men charge him, swinging their shotguns like clubs at him, muttering the words 'spill the beans' a lot. Robbie kicks the first in the gut with such force the other four guys stop and stare, then hoists the man with the shotgun up for a Crucifix Robbiebomb! He levels two other men with the first as all four crash to the ground, knocked silly! Robbie turns an bashes both the remaining underwear clad shotgunner heads together, then grabs one and lifts him into a reverse fireman's carry! He spins out and delivers a Heliolux Sitout Robbiebomb! The last guy hits Robbie over the crown of his mask with his shot gun. Robbie stands up from the sit out while getting peppered with shots from the shotgun club. Robbie blocks one of the shotgun blows and grabs the attacker by the throat! He scoops under the guy's leg! ELEVATED CHOKE ROBBIEBOMB! There's one for the connoisseurs. The bad guys thoroughly Robbiebombed, Robbie turns back to 'Marco'. Marco raises his hand at Robbie, then points at a platter of donuts. Robbie is immediately enthralled by them.

"Holy shit, I'm fucking famished!" Robbie marches gleefully towards the donuts. "Welp, time to munch." Robbie downs a donut. "Mmmmm. Fucking greatness. Fried bread with sugar." Robbie picks up a second donut and pats his belly. "Mmm, mmm, mmm, this chocolate frosted with whipped cream one is delightful." Robbie's eyes go wide as he stares at the donut. "Wait, I get bavarian cream!" Robbie throws the donut to the ground and stares down the cloaked figure.

That won't work on me, I hate whipped cream filled donuts! Fucking nasty.

The cloaked figure turns and tries to run from the couch they stood on, but trips over their dramatic cloak and falls to the ground. Robbie runs up and pounces on the downed figure like an offensive lineman trying to recover a fumble. He throws back the cloak and we see a girl, youthful and bright eyed, her hair a matted mess of bright fiery red. She looks at Bourbon with disgust.

Who are you?

Hah, hehehehehehe.

She laughs in the face of Robbie who looks quizzically at her.

Oh, shit, sorry. You can call me Strawberry Fields.

Cute.

I know.

What the fuck is going on?

Well, it looks like I got your attention, hehe.

Is that what you wanted?

I wanted to let Charlottesville get good and hot before you could do anything to stop it.

You what?

See, I wanted a LOT of nazis to get wrecked, so I got the best wrecker in the world to come to Charlottesville to wreck them. If you came earlier you would have brought the peace, maybe settled the problems before they occured.

I could have saved someone's life.

What are a few lives anyway in the bigger picture? You would have stopped one nazi, tops, if I hadn't intervened.

But all those people in DC, those men you warped the minds of and abused, you tortured those veterans into doing horrible things...

They were needed parts for the cause. To catch a big fish, one must use big bait.

Strawberry Fields, the deranged mentalist and mind manipulator, reaches up and hugs Robbie.

Now I get to be a Bourbon Man! Or Person! I wanted to get you a way to wreck something.

Robbie rocks back onto his knees and away from the embrace of Strawberry Fields. He immediately flips her over and uses the sleeves of her overbig cloak to tie her arms behind her back as she screams at the top of her lungs.

"Scream all you want. Cry all you want. You need help, and you need to be locked up to get it." Robbie looks extremely pissed. "Can't fucking wreck you, no sir, no little girls blood is coming at my hands." Robbie starts to drag Strawberry Fields, kicking and screaming, through the mall towards the exit as we exit Robbie's mind.

The sounds of a screaming child bring a sense of normalcy back to the mall as people step out of shops here and there, now that the coast was clear. Robbie drags Strawberry Fields to the back of his souped up Challenger.

Open.

Inside is a harnessed seat instead of a regular trunk, and Robbie places Strawberry Fields into the seat, locking down her wrists and ankles.

Close.

The trunk closes and finally the screams are muffled. Robbie walks back to the front of the car and sits. The screen comes to life.

Zat bitch is hurting mine ears!

Let's get her to the police.