Robbie Bourbon, stricken with the deadly Novel Coronavirus before WarGames, is going to compete for the first time in months at Leap of Faith.

James Raven and Theo Pryce will also be having a dream match.

TOKEN LEGEND IN A BATTLE ROYALE

We open to see Theo Pryce sitting at his fine cherry desk with it's ornate inlay. Suddenly, a phone starts to ring from within. Theo looks rightly surprised, opens a drawer, and pull out an archaic rotary phone, the source of the ringing. Theo picks up the reciever and in bewilderment utters the following.

Hello?

Theo listens for a moment before cutting off whomever was speaking.

Look, I don't know who put this phone in my desk, but send him in.

Through the door walks Robbie Bourbon, his phone to his ear. Theo rolls his eyes as Robbie still listens to the phone conversation they're having even though they are mere feet apart. Theo hangs up the phone and Robbie puts his phone into the pocket of his slacks. Slacks? Robbie is dressed in slacks! Slacks, a plaid button down, a jacket that is a totally different color than his slacks, and his usual traditional lucha mask. Robbie looks kind of like a teacher from a sitcom about teachers.

How did this get in here?

You needed an office phone.

No, no I didn't.

Look, Theo, there were nights when I was in the hospital that I tried calling, and got no answer. Now I know I can reliably be called upon like you're Commissioner Gordon and I'm Adam West.

Theo shakes his head slightly, ever so slightly enough that Robbie probably didn't even catch it.

About that, Robbie, are you healthy enough to compete?

Sure as shit! I am ready, willing, and able to go out there and compete, skipper!

Please don't call me 'skipper'. And if you were a carrier, why aren't you wearing a mask?

Robbie laughs heartily as Theo slightly adjusts his own gold plated, monogram etched face mask.

Of course I'm wearing a mask.

Robbie tugs at his traditional lucha mask.

Duh, don't leave home with out it.

No, Robbie, the kind that covers your mouth so you don't infect anyone.

Robbie cocks an eyebrow at Theo.

Theo, make no mistake about it, I have been infecting people here with the sheer vile that comes out of my mouth for as long as I have been here and I roast fools with enough heat to incinerate and disintegrate. Every little face mask I put on just turns to ash just as fast as a Confederate Flag on the Fourth of July.

Theo's brow furrows.

I can't dispute that, but I've never heard that saying before.

Saying?

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We cut to see a Fourth of July cook out, as evidenced by everybody wearing the tackiest American Flag print clothing in existence and hot dogs everywhere. As kids light sparklers, Robbie tosses the Confederate Flag onto a pile some seven feet high of them, and lights a Molotov cocktail...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Without seeing the cutaway, Theo puts two and two together.

Well, Robbie, the reason I wanted to see you was because at Leap of Faith I'll be facing James Raven, one on one, and since you have a history with Raven, I figured maybe...

What, you need pointers to beat him? Robbiebomb him so hard he shits his spine then pin him. So, Theo, the reason I agreed to see you is because of this malarkey with who I'm facing at Leap of Faith.

Malarkey? You're in a battle royale with some of the finest talent in all of wrestling, Robbie.

Finest talent? Pssht.

For starters, I can throw anybody in that ring out of that ring, period. You, Raven, Main, Page, Mastermind, Centurion, Warstein, anybody.

I'm well aware, Robbie, but will you?

Damn right I will! I will throw everybody out of the battle royale, and if someone else even dares to get an elimination, I will throw them out!

That...

...that seems like the standard idea in a battle royale.

Oh yeah? You get to go to Leap of Faith and have a one-on-one with Jimbo Raven, all the hype in the world of a dream match, all over Twitter and social media, and I get served up a plate of fucking leftovers. Hell, you aren't even having the showdown in a cage, Theo, that's where all the good matches happen.

Robbie, we weren't sure if you just wanted to ease back into things, considering.

Robbie looks less than pleased.

I don't need consideration, Theo, I need actual substance. I always come ready for all the meat you got, give me a whole side of beef and I'll give you the most savory grill session imaginable. Instead you gave me a box of frozen burger patties that are mostly pink slime.

Well, look at the menagerie of jokers I have to deal with in the damn thing.

For starters, there's Andrew Logan. Not only a nobody, but a future never was after I whoop the dog piss out of him. I do mean dog piss, because he's a fucking mutt. Call the god damned ASPCA, or whatever the Japanese equivalent is. Boring, cookie cutter, and what's more, a waste of every guaranteed cent you promised him since he's going to walk away from the XWF real quick when he realizes the ass whooping I gave to him is the same I'll give him on the daily.

I don't give a fuck about your history, Logan. I'm your fucking future and beyond that is handicap parking spaces.

Broken Oswald? Fucking Ghost Tank? G-I-eezus tapdancin' Christ. You gave me a fucking dog turd to work with. Imagine turning on Iron Chef and seeing the special ingredient is literal shit. That's what Ghost Tank matches are like.

Azrael Erebus? Sure, we got a little history here and there, but when's the last time Az was actually fucking relevant? Oh, that's right. The fifth of never. Must've gotten around to the mutton section of this here butcher shop, because Az is just another fucking lamb to the slaughter.

Scott Charlotte? I would ask who the fuck is this guy, but really, who the fuck cares? Scott Charlotte is a fucking Scooby Doo villain if Scooby Doo sucked. I could rip that mask off, and instead of Old Man Johnson trying to scare teens away, we'd see it's really an 8-year-old sitting on another 8-year-old's shoulders in a trench coat wearing a fake mustache. Shit, I know livestock aren't that fucking bright, but this guy sounds like Shakespeare if Shakespeare had down syndrome and a heroin problem.

Oh, hey, speaking of heroin problems, Docktor Trust!

Then there's Brian Storm, the dude people call me when they think they're witty and want to insult me until I show them wit and what an insult actually fucking sounds like. He might not be the man he once was, but really, I just see lateral fucking movement from the waste of fucking oxygen. Brian Storm's whole career has been going from shitty to just as equally shitty, then coming back to show everybody he was still shitty.

McBride? Walking smoker's cough couldn't lace my boots if he was in his prime. He's never had a prime, just the guy who rode Gilmour's coattails. Jesus, imagine how pathetic you have to be to take that trip!

Captain Acab? This guy's not even a piece of shit, he's just a fart.

Liam Roberts? You actually think that's gonna sell tickets? Robbie Bourbon facing off against Liam Roberts? Get the fuck out of here, Theo, I know it's your office, but get the fuck right out. People might pay good money to see how bad I cripple Liam Roberts, but they know they're not paying to see a fight for fuck's sake.

Mackenzie Wright? Wrong!

Then there's Dick Powers...

Hahahahahaha.

What's so funny about Dick Powers?

Robbie and Theo look at each other. Robbie starts to giggle again.

Oh, okay, you think his name is funny.

I know his name is funny, for Christ's sake. I bet his parents were fucking high when they named him, high when they concieved him, high when they birthed him, and high when they kicked him out of his house.

Look, you want to get the crowd hot, especially in Japan. You want to give the people something to get them hyped, I get it. Bombs being dropped like it was Nagasaki, Pearl Harbor, Baghdad, or Berlin will do that. The one and only kaiju of the XWF, the biggest big bad big bad of big bads, the monster that makes Godzilla piss his goofy rubber costume and King Kong think twice about touching the blonde bombshell I be, that's me, going down to the ring and whooping the everloving hell out of eleven condemned fools, will get the crowd riled up and ready to roar for more.

But I expect a little more regard in the future than just being tossed in as a token legend in your battle royale, Theo.

Theo nods.

Fair enough.

Cool. Now to the boys flying to Japan to get wrecking in MY fucking ring, my FUCKING battle royale, do yourself a fucking favor, save some cash, and don't bother buying round trip tickets, because you will not want to come back to the good ole' U.S. of A. and an XWF ring after I hoist you up and plant you into Japanese soil itself, like you're a human fucking banzai tree, with a Robbiebomb to the outside.

Theo, you done goofed, bud. You didn't put me in a cage. Collateral damage WILL happen.

Robbie turns to leave the office.

Robbie?

Robbie doesn't turn to face Theo.

Yeah?

Welcome back.

Thanks.