The van speeds down the freeway. Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, drives and Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, sits shotgun. Nestled comfortably in the back, the interior having been very much customized to feature couches, a television, and a refrigerator, we see Bobby Bourbon, along with Genevieve Tote, and perhaps Bobby’s guest, “Notorious” Ned Kaye
.

Everyone is bedecked in drab flight suits that look peculiar, for flight suits at least.

“Bobby, I have to admit, I have a pretty busy schedule. I do appreciate you inviting me along for the ride, though."

Ned looks positively exhausted. Always there for others, when does he sleep?

No problem, Ned. I figure, well, I’ve been a shit to you, and if I’m going to turn away from being a scumbag, it would only make sense to invite you along to the Space Camp Softball Tournament.

Miss Tote takes note.

Mr. Bourbon, did you say “Space Camp Softball”? Could you elaborate?

Yes.

Bobby nods. Ned glances around awkwardly as Bobby says absolutely nothing afterward.

“Are you going to elaborate?”

Oh, you meant now? Sure. See, there’s a celebrity softball game in a giant plane where we go up then simulate zero gravity via freefall as the plane dives. It’s a blast, also why we have the velcro flight suits. Zippers, belts, and the like are metal and we might get hurt, so to be like real NASA heroes, we’re going full velcro!

“Huh. And the giant black orb you have in the back?”

Ned gestures towards a black orb, some three feet in diameter.

Oh, that’s for after the game!

Mr. Bourbon, is it a bomb?

Ned cocks an eyebrow. Miss Tote takes note.

Not at all! Geeze, I’m not some cartoon villain for crying out loud! It’s basic fourth grade science, at worst! I don’t want to spoil the surprise for you, though!

“Bobby, your surprises have always sucked. For me, at least.”

I know, Ned, I know, and I’m going to make it up to you!

With space camp celebrity softball!

Mr. Bourbon, what celebrities are supposed to be there?

Bobby purses his lips, rolling his eyes.

Oh, you know, the best ones! There’s Ed Sheeran..

“I thought Ed Sheeran hated you.”

Naw, we’re cool now, he knows I’m turning things around.

Then there’s Taylor Swift.

“Taylor Swift? Wow.”

I know! She’s a huge space camp softball fanatic.

Then, um, there’s Will Arnett.

And then like fifteen or sixteen other names.

“Like who?”

Well, name one!

“Chrstian Bale?”

Absolutely, Christian Bale is definitely going to be there.

Miss Tote takes note. Ned grins.

“I think Christian Bale is a very talented actor. I’m interested to see how he plays.”

Intensely. Very intensely, but without chewing up the scenery.

“Cool.”

Ned’s eyelids flutter. The guy stays busy.

Mr. Bourbon, this celebrity space camp softball game doesn’t appear in my planner…

Bobby puts a finger up to his mouth, signaling for Miss Tote to be quiet. Ned dozes off in the seat, slumping down while seated.

Miss Tote, our guest is all tuckered out. Try not to wake him.

Bobby scooches off the couch he was sharing with Ned. Kneeling on the floor of the van, Bobby scoops Ned gently and lays him on the couch. Ned shifts immediately, making himself more comfortable and getting some much needed sleep. Bobby then shifts himself, sitting cross legged on the carpeted floor of the van, propping an arm up on the curious and menacing black orb beside him. Genevieve looks inquisitively at Bobby, a slight smile on her face.

Why didn’t you tell him the truth, Mr. Bourbon?

Because he’d object, Miss Tote. Ned’s like that, probably more backbone than anyone in the business today. Shit, he kicked out of a Bobbybomb. People who tout themselves as ten times the competitor he is haven’t done that. The thing is, maybe if Ned can help me out, maybe I can help Ned. It’s high time Ned realized he’s better than most of the people I’ve crumpled up.

So feeding him some nonsense that he’s going to space camp to play softball with Christian Bale is how you intend to do that?

Oh, no, Miss Tote, not at all!

Bobby grins.

I feel if I told Ned where we’re actually headed, and why I have this..

Bobby points downward with his right arm at the black orb.

..He’d be all about it, but then he might do something half-cocked and put himself in harm's way unnecessarily.

Ned’s a hell of a competitor, Miss Tote.

I’ll show him how to be a predator.

How to dominate.

I will show him the way of the Tyrannosaur.



Miss Tote takes note.

The way of the Tyrannosaur, Mr. Bourbon? Is this some new mantra I haven’t heard of?

Of course you have, Miss Tote, you’ve seen it firsthand ever since you were assigned to me by Theo Pryce.

Genevieve genuinely smiles.

Mr. Bourbon, I feel I’m seeing a side of you I haven’t before. I do have to ask, what do the rest of B.O.B. think of what you’re doing here?

Oh, well, TK is cool with it. He’s a total bro, through and through. Plus he’s preoccupied with Corey at the moment. When I told him I was taking Ned on a road trip, he just said to make sure he pays for his own lap dances.

Okay, but..

Dolly said it was in the cards for me to be a natural leader and show Ned how to be better.

I see, but..

Crash thinks it’s cool, since Ned is an XWF mainstay anyway, maybe he’ll come riding with us when we need to conquer someplace.

Mr. Bourbon, what about B.O.B. D?

Oh, he’s thrilled! He thinks I’m getting Ned to join us.

What happens when he finds out you aren’t, though?

He can take a lap.

Miss Tote takes note.

You haven’t thought this all the way through, have you, Mr. Bourbon?

I never do.

The Tyrannosaur doesn’t plot nor scheme, Miss Tote, it runs and hunts on instinct.

The Brotherhood of Bros. trust my instinct, Miss Tote, and I theirs.

What did they say about you stepping up and challenging King B.O.B., though?

Heh.

Bobby rolls his eyes.

They know they saw Godzilla versus King Kong, they saw Freddy versus Jason, but this is some shit they’ve been waiting for.

Well, Mr. Bourbon, it was very noble of you to stand up for Ned, but I don’t think you should take Doctor Louis D’Ville lightly.

Lightly?

I’m going to treat him like a heavy bag, Miss Tote.

Miss Tote takes note. Bobby turns and sees Ned is out like a light. Bobby pulls a blanket down from a compartment and tucks Ned in on the couch. Ned doesn’t budge, sleeping like he hadn’t slept in over a decade.

Mr. Bourbon, what about this upcoming Warfare? Things didn’t go very well the last time you faced off against, uh, what is his name?

Y’all Know Who.

Right. I forgot, he has a very XWF name.

Nah, not at all.

Louis D’Ville is a very XWF name.

Ned Kaye is a very XWF name.

Mark Flynn is a very XWF name.

John Black is a very XWF name.

Y’all Know Who is about to get wrecked and pulverized like he was a junker at the scrapyard and I’m the machine to tear him apart.

Y’all know who is getting his ass kicked at Warfare?

Miss Tote glances around.

Was, um, that a question?

Yes.

Who?

Y’all Know Who.

I thought that’s what you were going to say.

Warfare I correct the mishap that went down on my birthday.

No cake.

No candy.

No fellow members of B.O.B. to help me out in peculiar ways that wound up biting me in the ass.

No shit.

Bobby shakes his head ‘no’.

No nonsense, no excuses, and no hope.

Y’all Know Who is stepping into the ring with a man who has a destiny to fulfill at Relentless, and while I by no means consider Y’all Know Who a stepping stone, he’s about to get walked all over anyway on my way to Hell to confront the devil himself.

Ned starts to snore.

Aw, poor guy! He’s super tuckered out!

Mr. Bourbon, again, do you think he’ll be pleased that you actively lied to him?

Pssht, no way!

He’s going to be absolutely thrilled with what I have in store, I have no doubt in my mind.

He’s the top good guy, and we’re going to go do top good guy shit, after all. Celebrity space camp softball seems kind of pointless once he sees where we’re actually headed!

Mr. Bourbon, he may take it as a bait and switch. It’s like offering a child ice cream but driving them to get new shoes.

Ned isn’t a child, Miss Tote.

Miss Tote takes note.

Okay, it’s like offering a grown man ice cream and taking them to get shoes.

No, it’s like offering a grown man a chance to play softball with his favorite actors and singers but taking them to do superhero level shit!

Hey Bro, I gotta get gas.

Okay.

Do you want us to get gas?

No, I want you to run out of gas so me and Ned here spend time on the side of the road instead of on an awesome adventure.

Really?

No, I was being sarcastic.

So do you…

Go get some damn gas!

Bobby’s whisper shouting doesn’t stir the exhausted Ned. The van pulls into a nearby gas station and up to a pump. Nearby, in front of the gas station, a pair of motorcycles are seen. From within the gas station itself two men with shaved heads walk out, one proudly wearing a swastika on his leather vest. They laugh, mounting their bikes, and peel off, flipping off the building as the proprietor rushes out yelling.

Hey, hey! You need to pay for that!

The two rogue bikers, giving a bad name to all those who ride, take off into the sunset. Cyberjaw begins to gas up, shaking his head ‘no’.

Goddamn Nazis.

Bobby steps out of the side of the van gently, holding the door open for Genevieve.

Mr. Bourbon, were those skinheads?

I’m afraid so, Miss Tote. There’s a white power rally happening up the road.

Genevieve holds her tablet at her side and looks up at Bobby.

Mr. Bourbon, how do you know that?

Bobby shrugs, looking off with disdain at the men on their motorcycles as they disappear into the horizon. He turns and walks towards the gas station as Cyberjaw and Diamondback, for some reason, pump the gas together. Bobby addresses the proprietor of the convenience store.

What did they do?

Those animals! They took a bottle of whiskey each, called me a , then left!

Bobby looks hurt by the actions of the skinheads.

Well, they’ll get what’s coming to them. Can you do me a favor?

What do you need? I need to call the police!

Bobby reaches into the pocket of jumpsuit. He pulls out a wad of cash.

Don’t. And you didn’t see us here.

Me and my friends are going to deal with those jackals.

Miss Tote takes note.

Mr. Bourbon, not to grammar police but it’s “My friends and I”, and there’s going to be hundreds of rabid white supremacists there, this sounds dangerous.

The business owner pockets the wad of cash, nodding in understanding. Bobby turns to Genevieve.

Miss Tote, I laugh in the face of danger.

Danger is my middle name.

It makes it hard to brush my teeth while looking in the mirror, because I’m laughing at my own reflection.

They might have an army, it's true.

I have a Ned Kaye!