Oswald stands before the very butcher shop where he first stood years ago, the place run down, having been closed thanks to the pandemic. He closed his eyes, inhaling the stench of meat that had been here and had covered the walls with its smell. He looked as he always did, dressed to the nines in the finest clothes, which were slowly beginning to be taken off. Article of clothing after another, slowly stripping himself down until all that remaind was his black silken boxer-briefs. He handed his clothes to his servant before he walked inside, where the crunching of glass happened under foot, cutting the flesh of his feet. He'd just wince before smirking as he made his way to the back.

His hands gliding across the pre-butchered cuts of meat would be laying, to entice customers and displaying the prices for each cut and for each part of the animal. Cows, pigs, sheep and chicken. The prices knocked over in a hurry so that the butcher could save the meat. Oswald had bought some of the meat, and the rest was used in local soup kitchens across Chicago to feed the downtrodden. No one could say that Oswald wasn't a generous man. After all, being generous provided many a tax break after all.

His hands touched the walls and then he looked at the old bloodied hooks, coated because of the cows and pigs that had been hung here. The pool of dried blood underneath the hung meat enticed him. So much food once was stored in this butcher shop. One virus wiped a livelihood away. Now he was back from a time he thought was in his past, to relive his failures. His hands gently caressing the hooks, the gentle force caused them to sway and clink into one another, giving off a oddly enjoying windchime effect. A morbid one, but still a lovely sound.

His left hand went to one of the hooks, grasping it as he turn his right hand so that the back of it was facing the hook, and very slowly, as the interdimensional camera watched all of the process. His hand was being slowly dug into by the hook, until it pierced through, and the hook began to push out against the palm. The sight of his palm extending, seemingly being stretched obscenely, would make a normal person want to vomit until finally, it pushed through and blood began to pour more down onto the hook and begin dripping down onto the stone floor underneath.

Oswald was grinning wide as he, seemingly unaffected by the piercing of his own hand. He had done this before, and knew how to not damage the maneuverability of his hands too much to be inoperale, so, he performed the same task to his left hand, piercing it, and blood dripping once more down to the drain. A few servants began to seemingly hover into the room and began to lift him up off the ground, as hooks started to get sunk into his calves, his feet, his back, his arms. He was hung up like a freshly slaughtered cow, as blood began to spill to the ground, but for Oswald, this was akin to meditation for him, as he seemed at peace with his body shown off as literal meat and nothing else.

"Barney..."

He muttered

"Darren..."

He spat.

"You two keep sticking your noses into matters you don't deserve to even breathe near. I am the personifcation of X-Treme. There is nothing you two can do in order to prepare fot his match. It is a match I created and only a sick mind like mine could think of.

You two are going to be hung like this. Where you will eventually be held up to be slaughtered.

Prepare for this match if you think you're capable.. It won't help you, though. Because I am the God champion of the XWF, and you will fucking KNEEL before me, and beg to be hooked so that I end your torment!

Maybe then it'll teach you to respect those who have more power than you. More sway than you. 'Xtreme Legend' my fucking ass.

See you at Anarchy, Barney and Darren. Expect torture and a little bit of the ultra violence, a pit stop of bodily destruction, before I am on my way to War Games."

THe scene then fades to black, with Oswald bleeding from multiple wounds, dripping his life fluid into the drain.