Bobby Bourbon, now a two-time former XWF Universal Champion, looks reserved. It seems the highpoint of his career was struck by yet another low point. All champions eventually stop being champion, but after a record six minutes and twenty-six seconds at March Madness V, Bobby was no longer Universal Champion again. Having biffed it in terrific fashion, Bobby sits at a steakhouse in solitude, seated in a corner booth, not even touching the menu in front of him. The reservations he set two weeks ago, for he and his friends to either celebrate or to lament, seemed irrational and surreal now. Thunder Knuckles and Harmon Egan arrive and quietly slide in on the other side. Charlie Nickles and Crash Rodriguez walk into the scene, and this booth is huge, because they slide right in. Nobody speaks. The silence could be cut with a philips screwdriver. A server arrives.

Hello, gentlemen, my name is Riley and I will be your server this evening, thank you for making it to Ronnie’s this evening. May I interest you gentlemen in something to drink.

Nobody looks up. The silence continues. Riley stands, patiently, for five entire seconds.

Anybody, feel free? Do you need a moment?

Harmon looks up and around at the table, and his palm audibly slaps the table. Charlie looks up at the waitress.

We’re sulking right now, could you give us a moment?

Yes sir, sulk at your leisure.

BOB sits there silently for a few more moments before Charlie speaks up.

What the fuck were you thinking?

Charlie has a smile on his face, less enraged, or frustrated, than absolutely bemused. TK chortles.

He fucking wasn’t.

Dude, I’ve heard of fighting champions before, but right away after winning one? That’s bold.

Bold.

Bold Bobby Bourbon at it again.

Most of the table laughs, save Bobby.

I mean, I didn’t…

You did. We’re all disappointed.

Crash shakes his head, rolling his eyes, not taking a word he says seriously.

You should be Universal Champion.

Instead you’re buying steak for no fucking reason.

Oh? You pick up the tab, you have the company card, nice work with the special effects for your big return.

Okay.

TK pulls his wallet, then some stooge’s corporate credit card. Charlie grins. He and Crash hold up big sacks woth dollar signs on them.

Is that cartoon style money?

Oh, we bet on you to win the Uni, bro. Strong work, we bet the fucking house!

Yeah we did! We’re richer than like five wrestling companies combined after we rode your moneyline!

Bobby rolls his eyes.

Well, I did my part, no problem helping a bro. Wait, you mean…

Nah, we never bet against you.

Like, even if I wanted to bet on Sidney, I couldn’t have. Total shocker, pool ruining event.

Well, uh, nice to know people in Vegas are losing money.

The guys are served their meals. It's a lot of flash cuts of them carrying on, engorged on beef. After a meal shared, good times spent, and relatively little of note, the Brotherhood of Bros leave. They embrace the night air and stroll down the street.

Well, I reckon this upcoming weekend will be rocking, all three of us on one show and all.

Hey, Charlie has to be relevant, he’s having a match on Warfare too!

We’re on Savage and Warfare? Fuck!

I know, man, the office is always against us because we’re the meanest…

Bobby hands a hundred dollar bill to a homeless man.

Nastiest…

TK rushes to grab an old lady’s wheelchair and hustle her across the street as a car approached! Jesus, what a tight call! Bobby rushes over as TK and the old lady laugh.

Jesus, I thought you were…

Were what? I’m a bad ass bastard, I help old ladies and fuck people up. Most of these bitches in the XWF can’t do either for some fucked up reason, so, I guess I’m a…

No. You’re not. None of us are.

Bobby, we’re Boy Scouts now.

Fuck no we aren’t! We smoke things! We enjoy unprotected sex!

TK looks shocked.

What? No way, I always wear a jimmy.

That sounds adorable.

Bobby and Charlie blink in unison as they glance toward TK, then to Jimmy, TK’s assistant, then back to TK.

Nah, not my IT department, I mean condoms. You know what I mean.

You corrected yourself! Seems like you’re on, I don’t know, some kind of kick to develop your personal character!

Your poker face was built for roulette my friend.

TK puffs his chest out, proudly. This, after all, being a mentor, guiding someone, well, Centurion groomed young people, TK once again had an opportunity to do better than that perverted little weirdo.

Maybe I fuckin’ am. I’m getting a kid, you even said so in my promo.

Rock on! Don't groom it like Centurion.

I was just thinking that.

So, uh…

What’s up?

Harmon gestures towards the camera.

Oh, alright. Well, fellas, give me a moment.

Bobby walks away from the rest of BOB and the camera follows. We find Bobby now standing in a well lit alley. He smiles and waves.

Hey, Universe, how’s it going? Bobby here, and wow, that was a wild ride I took at March Madness, heh, I tell you what. My bros even asked what I was thinking, and hey, I went out and defended by title, like a champion, although, uh, I guess my strategy for being champion wasn’t super fleshed out in my brain. To be truthful, I don’t feel like shit, although I have heard what some people have had to say about me and I was able to use that in the gym, kind of hard to stay pissed when you’re busy sweating, and what do you all want me to do, throw myself a pity party, go off on some deranged rant about how I should be champion?

If you want that kind of garbage go check out a Mark Flynn promo. Mark, you know, I never really believed in ghosts, but seeing you, I know goblins are real.

Am I angry with Sidney Grey? Hell no. That woman accepted my challenge and put me on my ass for it in her fourth match of the night! I mean, hell, two-time former Universal Champ isn’t a bad place to be in this business, some guys never even win it one time in their entire god damned careers, and I was blessed by the Bastardly father to have held it twice, and for that, I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve been given, and what I’ve made of them. Thing of it is, I reckon with the proper hype, Sidney Grey defending in a rematch would sell a lot of tickets. Where do I gotta be, Sid?

Bobby raises his palm skyward at about shoulder level, gesturing towards the camera as though it were Sidney Grey herself.

I gotta say, if anything, the way I feel right now is humble. To main event in front of a crowd that big, twice no less? Sending the people home with something to say and mull over, that impact, that performance, is what I strive for, every damn time I go out into that ring, and I will not stop bringing that intensity, that heat, that vile, and that violence every time I go. I can not cease bringing myself to the people, to those crowds, to hearing about how I made the biggest mistake of my career from thousands of people I have never even met because I can throw folks around in an squares, hexagons, occasionally cages, and one time off a 90’s game show setpiece. Well, uppercutted off of a big mountain thing, fucking Mortal Kombat style. So, Universe, what you gotta ask yourself is simple, and it’s certainly not trying to guage where I’m at in my head. I’m, well, humbled.

Bobby points to the camera.

All you gotta consider is what will Bobby Bourbon do next? I’m the bastard that’s done it all, to the moon and back, all around the multiverse, and the place I dwell is Weekend Warfare. Who do I see lined up against me? Raion Kido, a year past since the last time we fought, sure, time has passed, but I sure haven’t forgot, do you recall the beating that I brought and you caught? All due respects, I like you Kido, but we’re continuing that same plot. What a year it has been for us each becoming champ, coming forward in this industry and leaving our stamp, leaving fans screaming when they see us walking down a ramp and we outshine the spotlights on us like an atomic lamp. Two names you don’t want against you on any given night, a beast from the far east looking like a golden knight, yours truly, the Big Bad Big Bad of Big Bads stalking a foe and filling them with fright, well the two of us are here and facing off and we’re gonna have us a little fight. A man bent on burning the cosmos to ash, still too timid to say anything of note lest he come off too brash, you bite your tongue and shy yourself like you enjoy being tied to the lash, it’s been a year, Raion, and you wouldn’t be anywhere today if it weren’t for Jason Cashe.

Bobby cocks his head and cracks his neck.

Not going to lie, you guys in SAGA aren’t all that bad, but not being bad ain’t being great. The headline reads BOB returns to Warfare, nothing about SAGA competing in singles competition. Fellas, I’m not sure if you know this, but, well, I’m something of a tag team aficionado, and I’ve defended tag team titles in several companies, sometimes consecutively. Cashe knows what I mean, he can carry a duffel bag full of cabbages to a tag team title, add in someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing in that ring, and Raion, I know you know what you’re doing in that ring, your style and precision are almost peerless, but you have a legitimate tandem holding the tag team championships!

Aaaaand those guys aren’t even defending the titles? Gentlemen, take it from me, I would absolutely know having defended my title some thirty seconds after winning it, but taking a night off but not sends odd signals, here’s hoping it was a clerical error, otherwise I’d have to ask if you guys had to give up your balls to earn your SAGA membership cards. Tell me about the ways of your people, they mystify me. I just know you’re the better of the bunch as opposed to CCPE. Unfortunately, I don’t think any of them will nut up and challenge you for the titles. Me? I mean, well, anything’s possible, but after I show the Universe I’m not to be fucked with in that ring, even by a man like Raion Kido, I go do what I gotta do to get back my Universal Championship, and next time I won’t just defend it the same night.