A podium with presidential pedigree is positioned on a stage in front of a black canvass emblazoned with the XWF logo. A seal at the top of the podium reads 'XOTUS'. The anticipation is palpable as a gaggle of media stooges stand in front of the podium with cameras and microphones, anxiously awaiting the results of the most recent X-treme Championship controversy. 

That's when the man himself steps to the stage. 

A dozen cameras flash in quick succession as reporters rush to the podium. Dressed in a blue suede suit with a red velvet tie, our new X-treme Champion bears a rather striking resemblance to a man you'd rather not be reminded of. The highly coveted X-treme Championship belt is slung over the man's shoulder with pride as the prestigious trophy shimmers in the limelight. Charlie Nickles grinned like a wolf, his sharp eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of a predator whose cunning plan had finally come to fruition. 

That's when The Nickleman leaned into the microphone to address you: yes, YOU specifically! So listen close and pay attention. 

"I'm here tonight to address the rumors, the controversies, and the scandals surrounding the XWF's X-treme division. As many of you have heard, our most recent champion has been deposed under rather dubious circumstances. Some people are speculating that this is a complete screwjob. I'm here tonight to address those rumors.

They're absolutely true. 

Johnny Bacchus was screwed out of his X-treme Championship because I suddenly came back into the picture, and just decided I wanted it. For his part, the former champion didn't do a damn thing to stop me. I walked into his trap and took over his trap, stripping him of his hard fought championship belt with nothing but a mere demand and a mean mug. I suppose he stuck true to his ethics until the very end: even going as far as to end his own reign and depose himself. 

If you ask me, Bacchus screwed Bacchus! 

But as far as I'm concerned, the past can stay in the past. Bacchus and his reign are both dead and buried for all I care. I won't be taking any questions about this sudden transfer of power: I'm focused on the future! As your next XOTUS, I will be ushering in a new era of bloodshed and devastation. The XWF has changed since I've been gone: for the worse. Now, "BlueSky" shitbirds are flocking to the XWF roster like it's a nesting ground for pussies- and I just can't stomach it any longer. 

So as your new XOTUS, I am going to shake things up the only way I know how: by doing whatever I want, whenever I want. 

Example A: Johnny Ballsack. 

Example B: Sharkboy.

You see folks, XWF management actually approached me after my shocking coup of the X-treme Championship. They told me that I didn't need to fight the Sharkboy on Warfare anymore, since they said they don't allow double champions in this company. XWF management told me that I could just take the night off and prepare for a proper defense of my newfound gold.

I told XWF management to get stuffed! I told them that not only am I fighting Sharkboy on Warfare: I'm changing the match stipulation on his ass! This match is no longer going to be your standard fare, 15 minute Television bout. Nu uh, not anymore. Now, this match is going to be an X-TREME RULES DOUBLE CHAMPIONSHIP DEATHMATCH! And there's not a damn thing Sharkboy- or anyone else- can do about it! 

You see folks, I could've made the choice to spare Sharkboy. I could've let him continue parading around with that TV championship- because I can do anything I want to, whenever I want to- but I didn't want to let a scumbag like that hold onto precious XWF gold. 

Sharkboy is a real lowlife piece of shit, the kind of guy who should be ran out of this industry for his perverted predilections and unabashed bigotry. I mean fuck, just look at the guy's wikipedia page and you'll see exactly what I mean. You people don't want that man as your TV Champion. 

The man who's wife left him after he was arrested for a hate crime because he attacked a group of men outside of a gay bar.

The man who was arrested for sexual harassment and assault after he attacked a stripper in an exotic club.

This man is no champion. This man is nothing more than fresh meat.

Some people will call me a hypocrite for attacking the Sharkboy's personal history. Some people will call me power-hungry for ending so many championship reigns in such short order. But after I wage Warfare next Monday Night, everyone will be calling me the same thing:

DOUBLE CHAMPION!

The Nickleman stepped away from the podium, his grin wide and smug as the barrage of camera flashes lit up his face. His eyes glittered with triumph, relishing the chaos his remarks are sure to spark. With each calculated step, he reveled in the tension, his posture oozing cocky confidence. The media swarmed, but The Nickleman didn’t flinch—he had orchestrated this moment to perfection, and the uproar was all part of his grand design.