Metallic clunking and thunking. Like a raccoon caught in an aluminum trashcan.

Tbe United Korean Peace Officer, desperately sniffing, trying to use all five senses (and perhaps grow two or three new ones) to find a way… any way… to reach what is making the pleasure center of his brain feel such rapturous delight.

His hands fiendishly flurry, scouring sourly, metal echoing as he pats… like a rat contorting itself to fit through a quarter-sized hole in a drainpipe…

“C’monc’monc’monwhereareyou…. WHEREAREYOU?!?”

UK paws to the end of a junction in the vent… It bends off at two points. One to the left. One to the right.

But instead, UK presses his face against the corner, trying to jam himself directly through solid metal. Trying to force himself so completely through that his body just passes through the metal. He grunts, exerting his every atom to the task of becoming a gaseous being.

…A sniff.

A second confirmatory sniff.

Followed by a lengthy inhalation, consuming the aroma of his target like a sommelier sampling the finest wine.

UK’s head naturally tilts… Like a bloodhound, he re-finds the scent. To the right.

UK resumes crawling like a madman.

“HE’S ON THE MOVE, NK! KAYE IS ON THE MOVE!”

***

Meanwhile, outside the ventilation shaft that UK is most assuredly damaging… the North Korean War Criminal walks along the outside of the vent, following the various bumps and scamperings of his interdimensional counterpart.

“Yes, yes, excellent work, Comrade UK… Stay on the trail.” He calls out inattentively. He is not focused on the sounds coming from the ventilation system above, but instead, is preoccupied by the blue folder, open in his hands.

Project RoBoy.

NK’s eyes rapidly scan the internal documents…

INTERNAL DOCUMENT TASK NUMBER 007681 DAY 1104 - MARCH 9TH, 2022 It has been… years since we have heard from Project Overseer… But the project funding continues to flow. She must be pleased. But, how long will she be pleased with the same results? Especially given how many of her flock have deviated so far from her dream? Expectations cannot simply be met. They must be exceeded. The visions of the overseer cannot merely be realized. They must be expanded upon.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, COMRADE NK! DO YOU SEE KAYE?!?”

NK does not look up, but does raise his voice.

“No, Comrade UK! I have discovered a document! It may be of interest to us!”

“...DID KAYE TOUCH IT? DOES IT HAVE HIS RESIDUE?!? HIS SCENT?!?”

“Well, no. But, it is remarkable! It seems the laborers here were tasked with something… Then, largely left to their own devices. The dream of the collective realizing their vision with no oversight! The purity of the group coming together and achieving beyond the imagination of the individual!”

NK squeezes his fist, invigorated. But, then realizes he’s squeezing the hand he’s using to hold the folder, so he sheepishly lets it go.

“Isn’t that inspiring, Comrade… UK?”

The sounds of scraping have grown louder.

UK has doubled his efforts tearing through the metal above. It’s apparent he has little current interest in the propagation of the collective dream.

NK sighs, and uncrumples the document in his hand to continue reading…

The off-shoots. The heathens. If only they’d see that their missions are distractions. Deviations from the true will of the Project Overseer. The battles only get worse, day by day. And our tribe is the smallest by number. But, our mission is the purest. Our vision is the truest. We shall prevail. And actualize Dolly Waters’ vision of the Future!

“Comrade Dolly Waters?!?!”

“Who’s there?!?”

NK’s hands jitter in shock as the blue folder flops out of his hands and down to the floor. He dives to the ground to retrieve the folder, but its slick exterior slides a few feet further away.

Suddenly, from the side hallway, a figure steps cautiously before the North Koran.

“Um. Excuse me, sir. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Before the War Criminal stands an Indian man in a tattered blue polo, and tan slacks torn at the cuffs near his feet. Scraggly-Bearded like a castaway on a desert island.

“I mean you no harm…”

“Haha! You first mistake was meaning me no harm! Now!” In a flash, NK flips onto his back and kips-up onto his feet! The Indian’s face contorts to casually impressed and genuinely curious.

“UK! Pincer strike!” NK points at this interloper, dropping low, preparing to complement his companion’s attack-from-above.

…

As NK’s ears adjust to non-attack mode, he can hear the sounds in the ventilation shaft, travelling further and further away.

…

“Hmm. Perhaps… he is building a… running start for his attack.”

…

Before NK can assess his next move, now that UK has abandoned him, he sees the Indian man bend down and snatch the blue folder from the ground, peering curiously at it.

“Ah, butterfingers!” NK says.

…

Then, he remembers when he says that, he’s supposed to fall forward.

He stumbles from the floor face-forward, flopping like an Eastern European basketball player, arms stretched, trying to clip the folder out of this stranger’s grip.

“Ah, butterfingers!” He repeats, well after he’s finished this tripping performance.

…

Unfortunately, this unknown man has spun 180 degrees, ignoring the North Korean’s feeble efforts to take back the folder. The North Korean flops forwards, touching nothing except his face to the floor. The Indian flips through the pages, muttering.

“Pardon my eavesdropping, sir. But… Did I overhear you say Dolly Waters was a ‘comrade’ of yours?”

NK’s ears perk curiously.

“Er…. Yes, I did. I do consider her a comrade, in fact.”

Immediately, the stranger spins, in a submissive bow.

“Ah! I beg a thousand pardons!”

In a flash, NK finds himself thrust to his feet. The slender, deceptively-strong Indian has wrapped his arm around the totalitarian’s neck and plucked him upright.

NK looks around perplexed, wondering where the floor went, before his eyes catch this stranger, bowing apologetically at the neck.

“Please, sir. As Project Leader, I must beseech that you keep what you have read from the Overseer. If she were to hear of this heresy…” The Indian covers his heart, terrified. “I fear her pure heart would shatter into a thousand pieces if she discovered how far her flock has deviated from the original glorious purpose she bestowed upon them.”

NK strokes his chin.

“Oooooooooof coooourse?” The Korean says, trying to surmise the intent of this man. “I am eager to learn more of this… work from the… Project Leader himself?”

“Ganesh, sir.” The man bows again humbly. “I would like to assure you, sir… That despite the efforts of certain deviant teams, the one true project proceeds forward on its schedule.”

NK nods. “Ah, excellent. Excellent news!”

Ganesh grins widely, nodding, exceedingly pleased to have pleased a colleague of Dolly Waters.

…

NK coughs. A thing he’s seen Mark Flynn do during lengthy gaps in conversation.

…

Perhaps he didn’t do it correctly, because Ganesh continues to stare expectantly.

…

“Well, with such positive news, I shall be off. And perhaps, I should take my document with me…” NK says, bowing… Though, only to reach slightly closer for Ganesh’s hands…

Ganesh recoils in disgust at the thought of Dolly hearing about the blue folder. NK’s mangy mitts pinch air, before he rotates his arms, trying to turn it into a yawn motion.

“Sir! I must insist that if you came for positive news to report to Miss Waters, I’m afraid the project listed in this document is a complete waste of time. A complete failure to interpret her will. To show this to the Project Overseer would make her believe falsely that her investment funds has been squandered! Squandered, I say!”

Ganesh folds the blue folder in half and stuffs the whole thing into his pocket. NK squints, puzzling over a way to retrieve the folder on Project RoBoy.

“Nay, sir! Instead, you must see a demonstration… of the ONE TRUE PROJECT!”

Ganesh claps twice…

Shadowy figures, with pocket protectors and ironic t-shirts that say things like “Measure twice, code once” and “Don’t talk to me until I’ve run my Java” emerge from the walls.

Before NK can even take a defensive fighting stance, his knees are cut off from under him!

He lands backwards into a rolling chair.

The group of developers surround him, all shoving him towards a dark room at the end of the hall.

NK’s body tenses with fear, but the herd is too strong, forcing him forward…

Until the darkness overtakes him.

…

……

Flick.

A light fills the room.

Ganesh stands at the front.

A projector flickers on.

And a PowerPoint begins…

“Everyone! Welcome to Project Demo #1: Dolly Waters’ March Madness Prediction Generator!”

***

The War Room.

At the chalkboard, Flynn is scrawling routes in a flowchart. There are decision points in the flowchart like “Charlie grabs a Steel Chair”, “Charlie grabs a barbed wire 2x4” and “Charlie sets the ring on fire”…

Occasionally, Flynn will take a step back from the board, parse through a route of possibilities… Then draw another line off a decision tree.

“I finally thought a true challenger had risen.”

Stepping forward into frame.

A mischievous smile across his face.

The North Korean War Criminal.

“I have waited for SIX LONG YEARS. Since 2016, my debut as a competitor in the XWF! For a true test of my abilities.”

“I have beaten MULTIPLE former Universal Champions! I have made my name known as the powerhouse behind the greatest WarGames team in XWF History! And I have assured my legacy is known the world over as the dynamite force that LED his team to FOUR CONSECUTIVE WINS OVER THEM NO GOOD BASTARDS!!!”

In a flash, a piece of chalk smacks NK in the back of the head.

“OWWWWWWWWW!” NK rubs the back of his head agonized by the minor attack. “I WAS GOING TO SAY… And I accomplished that with SOME HELP from Mark Flynn.”

Flynn scoffs, before pulling a fresh piece of chalk out of the pack and resuming his strategizing.

NK scoffs back, lifting a finger in the air.

“My point being! That I have faced every challenge that the XWF has sent my way! I have managed to, since my debut six long years ago… NEVER LOSE IN SINGLES COMPETITION!”

“Even Comrade Alias has acknowledged I am his only remaining challenge…”

Quote:But the reason I’m bringing this up is because I’VE FUCKING BEATEN EVERYBODY HERE. Or at least, through the transitive property I have. The North Korean War Criminal excepted.

”American Style shout-out to Comrade Alias! Team F.U.C.K.T.H.A.D. for life!”

NK shifts his hands into an F and a T respectively. Flynn looks down at his own hands, trying to contort them, still at a loss as to how NK does that at all, let alone so effortlessly.

“And finally, I thought the stars had aligned… That the Glorious Leader had smiled down upon me. That my vision of glory, of triumph, of basking in victory before an audience of millions of undeserved, fat, slothful Americans was at hand!”

“For I would be given the opportunity to face a former Universal Title #1 contender! A man who had two NEAR record-setting reigns with the Television Title! A man whose place in the upper echelons of the company went undisputed for most of my time in this company.”

NK tilts his head respectfully, while he smiles maliciously.

“I, of course, refer to Charlie Nickles! The Man of Many Nickles!”

“The Nickleman.” Flynn corrects.

“I thought to myself… Finally. An opportunity to battle the BEST that the XWF has to offer…”

…

NK snickers. Flynn cackles behind him.

“Then again, we all know better, don’t we, Charlie Nickles?”

“Chuck, you haven’t been the best IN YOUR LIFE.”

“The only time people that have argued on whether Charlie Nickles belongs in the GOAT conversation?”

“Is when Charlie talks to himself in the mirror.”

“And even then, Demos would argue that Charlie isn’t in the top 100.”

Flynn and NK laugh and point across the room at each other.

NK spins back toward the camera.

“Let us face facts, Charlie Nickles.”

“It is true that you fought your way up to the status of Number One Contender for the Universal Title a second time!”

“With… what? An 18 month gap in between?”

“And, we have already said many times that you FAILED to win on your second try.”

NK stomps his foot.

“Now! I would not deride one who failed to defeat Comrade Alias. A man who TRULY belongs in the GOAT conversation.”

Flynn shrugs in the back. “Hey, you lost to Alias. So does everybody else. I’ma fix that someday. But, No foul on you.”

“But since then, Charlie Nickles? You have been a god-damned embarrassment.”

“A fucking fish-out-of-water, floundering on the beach, drowning in a sea of air.”’

“Out of your natural habitat.”

“Doomed to serve as a meal for those who will survive beyond you.”

“Let’s talk about what’s changed, Chuckie.”

“Last year, IF we acknowledge that you were the force that sent Jim Caedus off the deep end.”

“An accomplishment that you really should share with Dock, TK and Gravy.”

“But… IF you did it.”

“You did it with precision, Chuckster.”

“You accomplished this feat with laser-sighted focus. WIth your eyes never leaving the prize.”

“You knew what you wanted. You wanted free real estate in the Uni champ’s head.”

“And you spent every second of every minute of every day trying to make it happen.”

“THAT… was 2021 Charlie Nickles. Was he the best?”

…Flynn and NK both extend their hand out to make an ‘ehhhhhhhhhh’ gesture.

“BUT!” NK lifts an index finger to the sky. “Was he effective?”

“At making Jim Caedus have a mental breakdown? No question.”

“That was 2021 Charlie Nickles. The Charlie Nickles… that arguably… ARGUABLY… COULD… have been the Universal champion.”

…

“However.”

“Let’s fast-foward to 2022 Char Char.”

“This Charlie Nickles… is most IM-Precise.”

“2022 Charlie Nickles believes in quantity over quality.”

“2022 Charlie Nickles has been harassing Alias, us, Jason Cashe…”

“Big Money Oswald, Raion Kido…”

“And this spray-and-pray tactic of challenging the world has been wholly ineffective.”

“And has been honestly heartbreaking to watch.”

“Like watching the old head lion get his balls bit by the lionesses on his way to move out of cave, down to the elephant graveyard.”

“2022 Charlie Nickles would rather challenge five guys than one guy five times.”

“2022 Charlie Nickles’ doesn’t pursue the same big-game prey, closing the gap with each spoken word. 2022 Charlie Nickles is no apex predator.”

“2022 Charlie Nickles is a hound with a broken leg. Leaping into the herd of deer with no aptitude, looking lost as they all befuddle him, escaping to safety.”

“Recently, Charlie is the type sends out five challenges to five different guys.”

“Two of those challenges get no reply.”

“In one of them, Bourbsy pops on to tell you to shut up and run laps.”


Seen Above: Charlie getting pulled back by the leash around his cock

“Talk about getting your balls bit.”

“Chuck, when Bourbsy is telling you to squeeze in some cardio? That’s how you know you’re out of shape.”

“And in the other two challenges? The ones that get acknowledged?”

“You lose.”

“Embarrassingly.”

“Charlie, you had one-half of the 2021 XWF Tag-Team of the Year in your corner against us.”

“And you lost.”

“You had the other half of that award-winning tandem to take on Corey Smith and RL Edgar.”

“And you failed to win.”

“Then, you had your best buddy in the world, Fuckin’ MARF to take us on for time #3.”

“And. You. LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOST.”

“How many times do we have to dance this dance before it becomes obvious that YOU are the failing component? You are the bum leg causing the racehorse to finish last every time.”

“You are the WEAK LINK.”

“Let’s face it. Since the start of May? Since you gave up your TV title?”

“Your highest profile win? Was against Tommy FUCKING Wish.”

“You’re completely over-the-hill, Charlie Nickles. Like America, your greatest years are far behind you. All that’s left is to watch your slow, complete collapse into obscurity, followed by death.”

…

“Our point being, Charlie Nickles…”

“YOU are NOT the glorious challenge I asked the Glorious Leader to will into being. You are not the true will complete me to my glorious ascension to the top of the wrestling universe.”

“I don’t believe in any of that shit, but if the stars aligned to send NK a big fish to look good against?”

Flynn grins acidicly.

“They MIGHT have sent you… three months and one title reign ago.”

“Now? You’re a fucking nobody, Charlie.”

“Your children hate you, your ex-wife loathes you, and your Goldie left you.”

“You’ve got the worst odds at Page’s big Fatal 4-Way match… And your opponents are Dolly Waters and Raion Kido…Two HISTORIC underachievers.”

“What the fuck does that tell ya, Char-Char?”

NK and Flynn shake their heads dismissively.

“However! As a True Korean, I am used to being surrounded by the mediocre. To shine brightly when juxtaposed with the dim and un-spectacular.”

“This shall be my greatest achievement yet! To make a Charlie Nickles match watchable!”

“And just as when the Glorious Leader set out to defeat America by destablizing its faith in its electoral system, hacking voting machines to manipulate outcomes, and installing a despotic television star friendly to our cause as your commander-in-chief…”

“Whoa, NK… are you saying…?”

“Yes! I am saying once-and-for-all… that North Korea is PERSONALLY responsible and takes 100% CREDIT… For the Presidential Reign of…”



“BOBBY BOURBON!”

Flynn gasps.

Millions of North Koreans watching the promo from their luxurious homes gasp.

The BOB-Anon, in whatever trailer park he calls home, kicks a fucking hole in his TV screen. He’s so god-damn mad, he almost tears his 'Let's Go, Bobby' t-shirt off his barrel chest.

“Just as we destroyed the America that was once-great.”

“So will I finish the job of ending the career…”

“Of the ONCE-great…”

…

“Well. Once-GOOD.”

…

“Okay. Once-FINE.”

“Charlie…. NIckles.”

***

“And that is why…” Yvgeny, the 5 foot nothing developer in a gray hoodie two sizes two large, concludes as he circles his laser pointer around the center of the screen.“We decided to make the home button black text on a white background.”

Yvgeny returns to his seat and the room applauds again for the 34th time this presentation.

The brief applause has allowed NK to micronap, a skill he has perfected after Mark Flynn began waking him up at 5 AM to exercise. NK had mastered the art of sleeping 17 hours a day, in nine second increments.

“And so!” Ganesh calls out. The applause immediately stops and NK obviously snaps awake.

“This brings us to the vision of the project. What the Project Overseer imagined 3 long years ago… that has come to fruition.”

As Ganesh speaks, two developers in anime t-shirts and cargo shorts wheel out a cart. At the center of the cart, something is covered in a red sheet…

NK’s right eyebrow peaks inquisitively, as the team murmurs with anticipation.

“Years ago, our Project Overseer dreamt of using technology to predict with 100% accuracy the results of March Madness. And…” Ganesh smiles, clicking his pointer, which closes the powerpoint. He shifts over to the cart and grabs hold of the sheet.

“We are pleased to report… That we have predicted XWF March Madness results as far forward as 2155!”

The team applauds as Ganesh wiggles the sheet, building anticipation.

“I present to you! The One TRUE PROJECT!”

Ganesh lifts the sheet… And under it, is a computer!

Before NK can understand what he’s being shown, several developers get behind him and shove the chair until its directly before the computer.

“Go ahead, sir. Ask the machine anything.”

NK swats the hands away behind him. They recoil, but still watch with great anticipation.

The totalitarian turns back to the computer. He scratches his head.

“Um… What IS this?” He says, poking the computer’s screen.

I AM THE KNOWER

NK almost falls out of his chair in shock at the computer answering his question.

I HAVE SEEN ALL THAT WILL BE…

NK gasps. “ASTOUNDING.”

IF ALL THAT WILL BE REFERS TO UPCOMING ITERATIONS OF XWF’S MARCH MADNESS…

“...Oh.”

ASK YOUR QUESTIONS AND KNOW WHAT WILL BE…

NK looks around… The developers quiver with anticipation.

The Korean shrugs and leans into the computer.

“Well… All right. Who will win the next March Madness tournament?”

CALCULATING…

…

……

CALCULATIONS COMPLETE. THE ANSWER IS… FUTURE LEGEND JORDI

The team bursts into elation, shaking each other’s hands and congratulating each other.

NK scratches his head.

“That CANNOT be correct. Future Legend Jordi has not been seen in yeeeeeeeears."

Suddenly, the team is silent.

…NK, who is usually terrible at social cues, immediately feels tension in the room.

Ganesh raises his laser pointer again, clearing his throat, maintaining a smile… “I assure you, sir. We have spent three years on this project. I ASSURE YOU. The output IS correct.” While Ganesh grins… In the light of the projector, it’s apparent that a bead of sweat drips down his forehead.

NK shrugs, clearing his throat.

“Well… Who will win the March Madness after that?”

THE ANSWER IS… FUTURE LEGEND JORDI

Ganesh coughs, awkwardly. “Perhaps… An off-by-one index error?”

The team suddenly begins murmuring suspiciously… Some of the developers enter into small discussion circles… then begin looking accusingly at other circles… As if they are to blame…

NK leans in again.

“Machine, who will win March Madness in 2042?”

THE ANSWER IS… FUTURE LEGEND JORDI

“What about 2082?”

THE ANSWER IS… FUTURE LEGEND JORDI… THE SECOND!

Suddenly, a stapler goes flying across the room. A Croatian developer catches it in the nose, his face suddenly smeared with blood.

Within seconds, the conference room is an all-out bloodbath. Nerds joust in rolling chairs… Ergonomic keyboards slap at each other like clubs on an ancient battlefield.

Ganesh remains standing at the front of the room, raising his arms to call attention.

“It’s a simple bug! This is a prototype! It will be fixed by release!”

As he does, NK’s eyes see, in his pocket… A scrap of blue.

NK’s sneaky fingers dart forward as he snatches the folder.

Ganesh feels his pocket picked… He spins… And sees the North Korean dashing across the battlefield of nerd warfare.

“Sir!” Ganesh calls out, fear palpable in his briefly-commanding voice. “Please! Give us 15 minutes and we’ll have the bugs combed out! PLEASE DON’T REPORT THIS TO MISS WATERS!”

NK forward-rolls over a beanbag chair, currently bleeding a trail of beans onto the floor, punctured by an errant USB cord wielded like a whip. He dives back into the hallway.

He cartwheels between a five-way Mexican standoff of nerf guns, as five simultaneously plush headshots knock the combatants to the ground…

The True Korean slams the door behind himself, the sounds of battle barely muffled by the thick wooden door.

NK takes a deep breath, as his hands clear the layer of Warfare and Cheetoh Dust off his chest.

“This place is a madhouse…What could have taken place here…?”

“Now!”

In a flash, from behind him, a handkerchief clasps against the totalitarian’s nose.

“Chloroform!” He guffaws, through the handkerchief. ”Haha! You fools! Fortunately, I have rendered my body immune to eight of the nine brands of Chlooooooooooooooooroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo….”

Oh no. NK thinks as his consciousness fades.

They’re using Brand NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiiineeeeeee….