JETT STERLING’S OFFICE

”So!”

A man in a tight, pinstripe suit paces!

”What we’re here to prevent… Is a…”

…

The well-dressed man dabs at his cheek, brushing away midnight black hair oil dripping down his scalp, across his cheek…

”It’s… It’s extra-legal maneuvering! Obstruction of justice! Circumventing democracy! Threatening to install an unelected MEGALOMANIAC!”

”President Richard Nixon once sa-”

”*ahem*.”

Sitting behind his desk, Anarchy GM Jett Sterling raises his hand.

”Pardon my interruption, Mister…"

”MAYOR.”


”Rudolph Giuliani! Advocating for wrestling INTEGRITY! And I’m not alone!”

Giuliani claps! Behind the former Mayor, two more suited individuals stand.


”Sidney Powell, for free-and-fair Anarchy contendership, your honor!”


”Alina Habba! For… uh…”

Habba scratches her head.

”What they said, your monger!”

The lady-lawyers sit. Giuliani looks at Sterling like now everything's been clarified.

…

Sterling exhales.

”Okay. You’re here for ‘wrestling integrity’... What’s that mean to me, baby?”

Giuliani nods, stroking his finger across his upper lip. Doing so smears his face oil into a ‘dirty sanchez’ mustache.

”It means… PRESERVING our forefathers’ TRADITIONS! Upholding the SANCTITY o-”

Sterling cuts him off with a wave.

”No. SPECIFICALLY. Whaddya want ME to do?”

”W-w-well…” Giuliani rapidly blinks, before nodding, understanding Sterling’s assignment. ”We’re here to insist that no alteration be made to the Anarchy Title defense at Relentless!”

”...What?”

”STOP THE STEAL!”

Giuliani waves away his backup, insisting he’s got this. ”Micheal Graves IS the elected #1 contender! Even if he WAS robbed of his organs and is now missing… presumed dead!”

…

“HEAVILY-presumed dead.”

…

“REGARDLESS!” Giuliani’s finger raises. “To substitute him out now would BASTARDIZE our traditions! SINCE TIME IMMEMORIAL! The #1 contender to the Anarchy Tit…”

Sterling rapidly waves his hands, securing Rudy’s attention. ”Stop. You want Micheal Graves to get his title shot? That’s the punchline?”

Rudy is flummoxed, shaking his head! ”This is no joke, your honor! We’re talking about the sanctity of Anarchy!”

…Sterling raises his hands defensively. ”I getcha, May-hor. Trust me, nobody cares about Anarchy’s sank-titty more than me.”

Giuliani smiles… He nods backwards at his co-counsel, who reply with thumbs-ups.

”And I got great news! Graves WILL get that title shot!”

…

Giuliani blinks.

”...What? H-h-how?”

”Well, h-”

*shave-and-a-haircut knock*

…Sterling grins.

”Ah! Ladies-and-germs… Introducing…”

”Anarchy Title #1 contender!”


”Micheal Graves!”

…

‘Graves’ coughs into his hand, before extending it to the two single-female-lawyers.

”Sup?”

The pair recoil disgustedly!

”So… The guy you want IS the guy competing.” Sterling reclines in his chair, unfolding his Sunday funnies. "I don’t validate parking so I’d split before ya cars get towed....”

”OBJECTION!”

”FILIBUSTER!”

”Your honor!” Giuliani walks to Graves, pointing with contempt! ”This man’s an IMPOSTOR! A foreigner (to Anarchy) seeking to upend our entire culture! In fact, I intend to prove BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT… That this man! Is NOT the #1 contender! But, Anarchy Public Enemy #1, MARK FLYNN!”

‘Graves’ points at America’s Mayor’s chest. “Got a little hair oil on your tie, Rude-Dawg.”

Giuliani glances d-

WHAP! ‘Graves’ flicks Rudy square in the nose.

“Classic Graves.” Sterling chuckles, as he flips through Marmaduke.

Giuliani rubs his schnozz!

”WE DEMAND THE RIGHT TO CROSS-EXAMINE.”

Sterling sighs, folding his funnies. ”Alright… But I’m locking the card down in…”

Sterling clicks a remote control. His wall TV shifts…


”Four hours.”

---

”Now… Graves, was it?” Giuliani paces around ‘Graves’’s chair.

‘Graves’ shoots finger guns.

”That’s my name, Giulie. Don’t wear it out.”

…

”Let’s make ‘proving your identity’ easy… Show us… your birth certificate!”

Giuliani stretches confidently against Sterling’s desk…

”Surely what you provide will match the XWF’s records, yes?”

”Duh! …Dummy! Of course it will!”

…

”Just… one sec…”

‘Graves’ frantically checks his coat pocket!

His fingers scour left… right… Chest…

Giuliani spins toward Sterling.

”Your honor! This man has no proof-of-identity! I demand he be str-”

”GOT IT!” ‘Graves’ stretches elastically like a rat down a drainpipe, dumping on Sterling’s desk…


…

Giuliani squints.

Sterling scoops up the ‘birf paperz’ with tweezers… Before opening up his desk, rifling through employee folders.

”Y’know, Mark, I’d heard from my… ‘client’... you were a tricky fella! Loved hearing yourself talk… Arguing… Gotta say… Seeing you in action?” Giuliani tsks. ”Disappointing.”

…’Gravy’s’ eye twitches… In a somewhat-familiar way.

Giuliani grins ear-to-ear… As Sterling slides a folder before him.


…

”Wh… What’s this?!?”

”A photocopy of… what Graves gave me when I signed him.” Sterling eyes both, then shrugs. ”Looks like a match to me.”

…Giuliani STEWS, spinning toward ‘Graves’.

‘Graves’ smiles so wide, it’s visible through his ‘Dark Warrior’ Mask…

---

”Miss Furry…”

Miss Furry sits in the witness chair, flattening her tongue and lapping and grooming her own beard whiskers…

”What’d you observe two Thursdays ago… In the Loading Dock?”

Furry wrinkles her nose, thoughtfully.

”Well! I saw two back-alley cats drive Mister Graves away! They claimed he’d never wrestle again!”

Giuliani smiles confidently…

”Yes! Graves was quite injured, wasn’t he!”

”Yes!”

Giuliani nods at Sterling, sipping a cup of coffee.

”No more for this wit-”

”But the DARK WARRIOR RETURNED FROM DEATH!”

Giuliani does a full spit-take!

---

Miss Furry lies on the floor of a McDonald’s dining room! She’s curled in a ball, weeping into her own beard!

”M-M-MASTER GRAVES! HOW COULD YOU LEAVE US?!?”

Sitting at a table… is Mark Flynn…

Staring at the ‘Dark Warrior’ Mask he recovered from the ‘ambulance’ that took Gravy.

Peter Parkor’s facedown unconscious.

…

”Hmm… Furball?” Flynn side-eyes at Furry… ”Ya think if I wear this, people’d think I’m Gravy?”

”M-M-MASTER GRAVES… Is all anyone can think of! T-T-T-THE WORLD’S IN M-M-MOURNING!”

“Suuuuuuure… But, like… Maybe I pull a switcheroo? I once occupied his body, test-drove his stupid hands… Think I could *temporarily* replace him?”

”NO ONE COULD EVER REPLACE HIM!!!”

…

Flynn scratches his head.

He scoops the mask… Strolling to the bathroom.

…

A moment later, the bathroom swings open.

…Furry stops weeping… Opening her eyes.

Before her, a masked figure stands.

”…Whaddya think? It takes up the whole face… I’m no Brando, but mayb-”

”MASTER! YOU’VE CONQUERED THE GRAVE!”

”...No, I-”

Miss Furry latches onto Graves like a cat tree, kissing his knees!

”RISEN ON THE THIRD DAY!”

---

”A miracle! I may be a cat, but Master Graves has nine lives!”

Giuliani stews furiously…

”...Okay, secret weapon time…”

---

The crew quietly sit… ‘Graves’ twiddles his thumbs, Sterling chuckles at Garfield’s antics…

Giuliani watches time pass, praying his gambit pays off.

WHAM! THE DOOR FLIES OPEN!


“Hello! I’m Harlan Crowe!”

Crowe storms across the office!

To Jett Sterling!

”Are you… Mister judge-man? Judge-guy?”

…Sterling looks Crowe up-and-down.

”Ain’t no judge, but that hasn’t stopped those jokers from calling me ‘your honor’...”

Crowe reaches into his pocket…

And retrieves his checkbook!

”$450,000!”

…Sterling’s eyebrow wrinkles! ‘Graves’ almost chokes in shock!

”Pardon?”

”I’ll pay you $450,000! To rule that the Second Amendment makes gun ownership manda-”

Giuliani rushes up, whispering in Crowe’s ear.

”Oh, I mean… $450,000! To rule that Anthony Fauci MURDERED FREEDOM when h-”

Giuliani rapidly whispers again!

”Oh! Okay… $450,000! To say THAT guy…” Crowe points at ‘Graves’. ”Isn’t Micheal Graves!”

…

Sterling…

Gets HOT under-the-collar.

”You think you can just BUY my rulings?!?”

”Worked for Clarence Thomas!”

”OOOOOOOOOOUT!”

Crowe shrugs, scampering out.

…Giuliani breaks into a cold sweat…

‘Graves’ taps his wrist.



***

ONE MINUTE!

”Now… your honor may believe we haven’t proven that THIS MAN’s not Micheal Graves.”

”I do think that. You ain’t done shit ‘cept waste my gah-damned TIME!”

45 seconds!

”However! Consider this!”

…Giuliani points at ‘Graves’!

”MarkFlynnSaysWhat?”

‘Graves’ cups his ear. ”Pardon?”

Powell stands! ”MarkFlynnSaysPardon?”

”Scuzi?”

”MarkFlynnSaysScuzi?”

”Didn’t-Catch-That…”

”MichealGravesSaysWhat?”

”WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?”

15! 14!

…Giuliani stammers, eyes wandering the room!

His co-counsel! They’re completely spent!

”I AM MICHE-”

”MARKFLYNNSAYSIAMMICHEALGRAVES.”

…

”MICHEAL.”

”Alexander.”

”GRAVES.”

BZZZZZZZZZZZZT!




Sterling licks his Relentless card, sealed.

”Case dismissed.”

---

Darkness.

”The… typical ambience for a Gravy promo, right?”

”Dark room?”

”Disembodied voice?”

…

”Let’s change it up.”

*Click* The room fills with light.

”They say sunlight’s the best disinfectant…”

”And Jesus CHRIST, someone needs to clean the scum off Anarchy.”

“You’re telling me Thursday’s TOP TALENTS…”

“Are Madison Dyson… and Misty Waters?”

”Talk about a CAT-astrophe!”

…

”...Dyson’s worldview? Built on pillars of sand. Her ideas don’t weather even SLIGHT scrutiny!”

”Dyson jabbers over her inherent superiority…”

”Her genetic PURRfection!”

”How she’s BORN better than everyone because her ‘white’ genes…”

“Firstly, for a lady talking about white culture’s superiority, she sure appropriated dreadlocks for YEARS.”

“Second. If she’s so fucking SUPERIOR, why’d she get her A-cup titties-in-a-twist over Mark Flynn trying to add zest…”

“FLAVOR!”

“A little GODDAMNED SPICE! To ‘her’ Anarchy Title Battle Royal?”

“If she’s so superior over a ‘sperg’ like Flynn, why’s she so steamed he tried to stamp his ticket to compete?”

“That? Is the MAGAPOWERS in a nutshell… They squeal about their VICTORIES… How they’re making Anarchy great again!”

“When all they want is dominion over the kiddie pool…”

“Hiding behind the rules keeping the FUCKING SHARKS OUT…”

…

”Y’know what FLYNN did?”

“Do you think MARK FLYNN hand-picked his opponents off a menu?”

“Hid in a low-skill division, knocking over bowling-pin-opponents who can’t fight back?”

“MARK FLYNN FOUGHT ALIEN SUPERMEN!”

“WILD FUCKING GORILLAS!”

“NORTH KOREAN CYBORGS!”

“WHATEVER ALIAS WAS! HE WHO ALMOST ATE THE MULTIVERSE!”

…

“Mark Flynn didn’t always win… But, he raised his dukes! Fought whoever stood opposite him.”

“And Maddy… Wants to BITCH and MOAN. That Mark Flynn ‘tried to worm his way’ into HER Battle Royal.”

“Because Flynn almost intruded on her totally-fair fight…”

“Against…”

“MASTERMIND.”

“CAMERON PARKER.”

“BIG PREESH.”

“Let’s face it. The UBERMENSCH is mad because she almost had to face an actual opponent instead of her originally-scheduled curb-stomp.”

“She got FURIOUS because she was ENTITLED to winning with NO FUCKING OPPONENT.”

“She didn’t even have to fight DOLLY, who split faster than her goddamned moral code.”

“DOLLY.”

“(sorry to ‘deadname’, Dolls).”

“DOLLY. WATERS.”

“Once had a FUCKING SOUL.”

“A BEATING heart.”

“She used to be the XWF’s JOY. The undying, can-do spirit! Self-improvement, one-day-at-a-time.”

…

“Then having ETHICS got haaaaaaaaaaard “

“So, the freedom-fighting socialist flipped alignment and threw in with a LITERAL FUCKING EUGENICIST.”

“How would Corey feel, Dolls? If he knew you’d joined up with the DEVIL who TORTURED HIM! BODY AND SOUL! ALL FOR HER GOD OF GREED!”

…

“That’s what this is about, huh?”

“Greed.”

“Dyson wants the Thursday Night pie all to herself.”

“She whines that Flynn’s interloping was UNHEARD OF! No one’s EVER thrown their name into a match they weren’t originally booked for! EVER EVER!”

…

“Two examples… Straight off-the-dome.”

“2012. Mark Flynn’s favored to win a scramble for the European Title.”

“Who storms in? FORMER HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMP TRISTAN SLATER!”

“THE BANE OF FLYNN’S EXISTENCE!”

“Throws his name in the mix.”

“Proclaims the beginning of his Alexander-like conquest! A SUPERIOR BEING, DESTINED TO RULE THE XWF!”

…

“Flynn could’ve whiiiiiiiiined about Slater ‘worming his way’ into the match.”

“But he didn’t.”

“He shut up. Fought.”

“And defeated the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Hitler dream.”

…

“The other?”

“2023.”

“When the original closer was Raion Kido versus Dolly Waters for the Uni…”

“Who threw the gauntlet down?”

“But, Corey Smith!”

“See, Misty…”

“Corey saw what he wanted.”

“Easy pickings.”

“Kido was floundering… And we all knew Dolly’d trip on the finish line for the UMPTEENTH TIME.”

“Smith saw a road apple, lying…”

“And took his shot.”

…

“That’s what I see tonight…”

“Two freebies… Held by two whiny Millenials who think, because they PARTICIPATE, they get TROPHIES.”

“That they deserve championship gold, when they’re UNTALENTED, HYPOCRITICAL FILTH.”

…

“Just like Corey Smith?”

“I spot…”

“GOLD for the taking.”

“And I won’t wait.”

“To take what’s MIIIIIIIIIIIINE.”

…

”Sorry, MAGgots.”

“You can’t feed on Thursday Night’s corpse anymore…”

“Cuz Anarchy’s…

“Rising from its GRAVE…”

“WITH GRAVES!”

…

”Wow! Clever closer, boss!”

”...Shhhh, just… Let it resonate.”

”Sorry! It’s just… things ‘rise from graves’… But! That’s also YOUR name!”

”SHUDDU-”

BLACKNESS