We see Bobby immediately.

Jay, I’ll admit, part of me didn’t want to even bother making another promo. I’m in a weird place, man, a damned weird place. See, on the one hand, I’m a member of the Brotherhood of Bastards, the baddest crew in wrestling. On the other, the ass I want to kick is attached to a prick so disgusting to the people that swinging the name of the Bastard around won’t do me any good. You’re right, Jay, I am indeed a dick, but save cooking up new nicknames for me, look back and see how many I’ve already had. I’m a dick because for a while I ran every piece of shit that walked into the XWF right back out of it. I was the dragonslayer, making sure the show went on nice and smooth. Never the tippy top of things, nah, I wasn’t the vision some wanted being the flagship of the XWF, but one hell of a wrecker. The Weekend Wrecker these days, used to be strictly Wednesday Nights. Well, one day, Jay, one day all the monsters in the kingdom were slain, leaving only one.

Bobby shrugs, looking to the ground as his eyebrows raise in lament.

So hi, Jay, I’m the monster. I went out and won the crown, the biggest crown in this business, I won March Madness and became King of the XWF. When asked what crown I wanted, I simply handed Vinnie some cardboard knick knack made by a fan in their kindergarten class. I was the Grand High PooBOB, letting the XWF rule itself as it see fit, while I did what I did best, go fuck up whatever needed it. Then Relentless hit, and I needed to take time off. I do that from time to time. Us monsters like to be reclusive in our lairs for a bit from time to time. Thing is, my best friend heard of an opportunity. He expressed that we could do something unheard of, and by god we fucking did by becoming Double Tag Team Champions, all conquering in the name of the Bastards, spreading the fear far and wide beyond the XWF of what lurks here. I went on conquest and proactively hunted potential threats before they could even set foot in the locker room, and you know exactly what I mean. If you traverse the stars, that’s cute. I’ve wrecked Nazis and pedophiles and every other piece of garbage that’s been seen, proving myself to be the Big Bad Big Bad of Big Bads. In that time, though, well, shit has degraded. We have a jingoistic self-important dingleberry representing the company as though he’s America’s greatest hope, and a never-ending list of sycophantic fools so fueled by their own egos they can’t see what it takes to be great around here just wondering what it took for me to be great.

Bobby’s nostrils flare as his deadeye gaze settles on the camera before him.

See, I felt I didn’t need to make this promo because I thought my name would speak for itself, but then I realized I would be disrespecting you immensely by doing that. I would be resting on my own damn laurels if I did that. Most importantly, Jay, the people, all the wonderful, crazy, beautiful, tired, hopeful, and by all that is holy, the poor bored people who need fun, needed me to be here, to know I still cared about them. These people who tune in, night after night, following us on Twitter, eating up every promo dropped, every match fought, every moment of intrigue, and every goofy damn thing we do that makes them laugh, who don’t get to go to the country clubs of the world, who don’t get to be a part of someone’s inner circle, who have been watching for years and enjoying the spectacle of what we get to do for a living, who toil at everyday basic jobs, who have mouths to feed, bills to pay and a future to build but they’re not even sure what parts of the ground are stable enough to lay foundation. They live vicariously through us, see us as inspiration, and we can champion them, Jay. We can make differences in their lives they’ll hold onto; just ask a little boy who gave me a paper crown outside of an arena. I’m going to do that for them, Jay, I’m going to do that for the people, and I will shoulder the burdens they have, because I am their King, they have NEVER been my subjects

Bobby shakes his head.

Look at Jay Omega with his space trophies too many to list ‘em, just as proud of those as the first time his momma mouth kissed him! As for fighting in the XWF if you blinked my might have missed him, he was back out of sight beyond our humble Solar System. I’ve been fighting while I was away, you think that makes me out of shape? You’re talking about shit you don’t know you silly jackanape. We aren’t going to that ring to settle things with a regular ass scrape, nah, I’m going to break your body and leave you literally bent out of shape! Raise your shields, fire the photons, set the bridge to high alert, I’m going to knock you out of fucking orbit and crashing into the dirt! You might have talent in you but while you’re good, I’m the god damned expert, we’re going into hostile worlds, I’m the king, you’re just the fucking Red Shirt. You being a secret competitor took the air out of the room like it was a duct, listen hear, E.T. fucker, phone home before you self-destruct, like the three-eyed dudes from Toy Story you’re just the name that got plucked, keep calling me a dick, Torchwood, because even you know you’re fucked.

Bobby leans back away from the camera. As he does, a nurse looks at him in bafflement.

"Uh, sir, what are you doing?"

Bobby clears his throat.

Oh, uh, you know, Church of the Bastard clergy work.

The nurse rolls her eyes and goes back to looking at her computer monitor. As she does, Bouncy Brickhouse, personal friend of Bobby, arrives in the hospital.

I can’t believe you’re still here, didn’t anybody get mad you killed that super large guy?

Oh, you better believe it, but, I gotta make things right.

Oh! I thought you wanted me to help you fight off law enforcement.

No, no, not at all, I just wanted to look at you.

Bobby is smiling while he looks at Bouncy like she was Christmas morning. She bites her lip and blushes.

Besides, I didn’t kill him! He was pronounced dead moments before I splattered him all over a hospital room, so, while I’m not entirely in the clear, definitely not murder!

Oh good!

Yeah, but to keep it under wraps, I gotta do a bunch of Make-A-Wish stuff for kids here at the hospital.

Aw, that’s adorable. Well, bye!

Bouncy takes a step away from Bobby.

You’re leaving?

I hate children.

Yeah, yeah, me too, but, well, these ones are dying, and do you hate dying children?

Yes, they’re even more needy.

Valid, very valid, but, okay, I’m glad you stopped by, but I really just gotta do a big personal appearance for the kids, I figured after we could go get tacos.

Bouncy has her gaze locked at Bobby like he’s Christmas morning now. She quickly nods.

Okay, I’ll stick around. What do you need from me?

Well, think of it like a magic act, you get to be the beautiful assistant!

You know magic?

No, not at all, I have charm, wit, a beard and a huge penis, I didn’t need that goofy shit to get laid.

No, you absolutely did not! Hah!

Bobby grasps Bouncy around her waist and goes in swiftly for a kiss. The impact, however, is all technique, zero force, and the kiss is both worth every eon it took and all too brief. Bobby leans back, looking down into Bouncy’s impossible green eyes, she looking back at him with a simple smile across her lips.

Let’s go. Just follow my lead.

Bobby and Bouncy walk down the hall of the hospital ward and into a large activities room. Children are all seen playing, some hairless due to chemotherapy, some immobile and seated playing board games, none of them really looking to have a visit from Bobby Bourbon, until they look up and see him! The room explodes as the children scream in excitement.

Hey guys! Having fun!

The kids all scream and act like little hooligans.

Well, I’m here to tell you guys about something really important! Right Bouncy!

Yeah! What’s that?

Bobby shrugs, having not thought of this whatsoever and ad libbing for a children audience doesn’t work no matter what you do without props. Bouncy laughs.

You forgot, didn’t you?

No, I never came up with…

Oh hush, Bobby, you’re being silly! You wanted to show all the pretty ladies here how to be a real Queen in the XWF!

Oh no I sure as shit didn’t!

Of course you did!

Bouncy winks at Bobby as she pulls a few cosmetics from her bag.

Sit down Bobby.

Bobby sits, and he and Bouncy whisper to each other.

Dammit.

Next time have a plan.

Okay.

Bobby sits and the Children marvel at Bobby getting a dose of Bouncy’s make-up applied to his face. Foundation first, then the eyeliner, lastly the lipstick. Bobby looks like a caricature of a cheap hooker only without all the welts and sores from picking at his face while on drugs.

Isn’t Bobby pretty?

I’m gorgeous!

The children all laugh. Suddenly, into this public recreation center in a children’s ward in a hospital, a half-man, half-camel bursts in! Not like a centaur, like a minotaur, only camel. Joe Camel.

You kids should be smoking, and not listening to that half-a-fairy in women’s make-up!

The kids look alarmed at the giant camel man in their midst. Bobby gets to his feet, turns, and kisses Bouncy on the cheek, leaving a red lipstick print there.

Okay, babe, thanks, I reckon it’s time I got to work.

Is that Joe Camel? Like he was big in the supervillain scene back in the 80’s, but is this what he’s doing now?

Yeah, he blames the kids for costing him his advertising deal.

Oh shit. Also, I heard all that stuff, are you going to be leaving the supervillain society?

What? Nah, I’m shooting darts with Jerry Jones and Jamiroquai later.

Oh, okay.

Woah, princess, you through talking to the lady, don’t you think a real man aught to have a chance?

Bobby glances at Bouncy.

Don’t hurt him too bad, he’s been out of work for a while, I’m pretty sure he was trying to arch-villain the L.A. Times. I mean, print media in this day in age? It’s sad.

Yeah, you’re right.

Bobby turns and looks at Joe Camel.

Joe, hey bud, we’re kinda full booked here today, how about we get lunch tomorrow and maybe you can come and shoot darts with some of us.

I can’t smoke in bars anymore!

Joe Camel looks furious, then spits. On the floor of a hospital. What the fucking fuck? Bobby turns back to Bouncy, a bloodlust grin forming past smeared lipstick, the rage of eternity burning behind his cat eyes.

Oh, I didn’t say make it sweet, just make it quick is all!

Bobby turns back to Joe Camel and continues to plod toward him silently.

Look, you had your make-up did, how about you make me a sandwich and clean the dishes after you grab me a beer.

Bobby calmly approaches Joe and throws an overhand right, cracking him on the nose. Joe recoils, his smoker’s bod not preparing him for this kind of conflict. Bobby drags Joe Camel out of the children’s ward.