Anarchy rewind Said:"The Butcher of Chi-town ain't welcome in this fucking buildin'. He ain't getting nobody's bodies, and he ain't going to keep gettin' away with this shit! So. You are going to tell him that message."

She tossed him a smart phone, some burner, and on it the only program is Uber. The name on the account Jane van Doe. After a few seconds she'd look at the phone pressuring the revolver against his skull so as to keep dominance over the situation. 

The camera changes to outside the apartment, as two shots are heard muffled from outside it, and flashes of light with each shot. Next thing to be seen, is him being thrown out onto the street with two fresh wounds where his kneecaps are. Some screams that start, but then shushed immediately, as a black SUV rolls up to the Irishman and a couple of fully covered people picking him up and tossing him inside before the car starts zooming through the streets as the scene slowly fades to black.

After Bad Medicine, Oswald is shown in a pristine looking hospital, with the location undisclosed. Any signs of a city, a state, all wiped clear from each floor of the hospital. It existed, looked like it was a fresh new hospital before the lived in wear and tear of its patients and employees. Outside the room Oswald stands before, is Thias dressed like as if he's some secret service, and with a nod from Oz, he opens the door and Oz walks inside to see the Irishman, unfortunately between operations as he had to be amputated from the severe damage done to his kneecaps. The Irishman looked at Oswald, grimacing and the sound of his tongue clicking as if he's trying to deal with his anger.

"Ya got the feckin' message. Now all I can do is fawkin' dress up as a damned leipreachán if I want to go out an' have fun at costume parties."

Oswald pulled out from his left breast pocket, he'd produce a silver flask, unscrewing the top and giving it to the Irishman, who instantly began to drink the contents before leaving it on his own chest.

"Christ. Ain't had a drink since that day. Good shit too. Needed daht."

"The Butcher of Chi-town."

Oz chuckled

"Good ring to it, don't you think?"

The Irishman squinted at him, and slowly began to get a bit tense as well as angry

"Yehhhh... sounds fuhkin' fantastic, mate. So wot're we doin' to get these gobshites back for what dey did to MAH FAWKIN' LEGS?!"

He threw the flask towards Oswald's head, who simply took the blow. The sound of the metal smashing into bone and meat sounding more sickening than the normal sound the metal would've made against either other metal or even wood. While a small knot immediately began to grow from the damage it cost, Oz would pull out one of his weed cigars while the flask fell to the ground with the normal clattering sound. He took a step back to light the cigar, taking a drag before giving it to the Irishman while sitting on the side of his bed, avoiding the wires connected to him.

The very second he took the cigar from Oz, the two shared a smile, before a massive hand struck him in the throat and then squeezed tightly, cutting off blood flow and airflow as he began to squeeze important arteries and windpipe.

He grabbed the cigar before it had a chance to light the man's hospital blanket on fire. The Irishman's vitals beeping and as this went on, a nurse rushed over to the room, only to be denied for a few seconds before let in.

Oswald smiled wide as the Irishman's last movements were to grasp at the air towards the nurse and the last of his attempts at speech were gurgled cries for help until finally, there was nothing.

"Tell them it was a small machine error that was easily fixed."

Thias soon walked inside, handing a couple things out to the nurse: a business card and a cheque that was to be filled out by them, including a $100,000 amount. The nurse, having the internal conflict within themselves, was soon outweighed by the soul crushing debt of the American education system post-High School and chose to stay quiet about what was seen in this room.

Oswald, Cheshire grin and all, soon fixed his suit up, picked up the flask and walked right out, taking deep drags from the blunt as he moved, practically leaving the hospital like a human coal-fed train with clouds of weed smoke filling the once pristine hospital.

---

"The amount of losses and wins doesn't matter to me as much as it does to you people. I list my accolades so people know what kind of hell they're in for. The kind of war they will be involved in, until it is over.

I don't give a solid, solitary fuck if people have beaten me once, twice or fifteen times. Each match is different, even if the end result is the same. Because when we're done, your body is going to suffer the trauma I give it, until you say you're done facing me out of the fear of making pissing blood a regular occurrence in the bathroom.

To some, I am the Butcher of Chicago. Which is fitting for our X-Treme Rulez match.

However, to others, the Savior.

To you, I am going to be your torturer, your judge, your inquisitor...

Unfortunately for you, I find you guilty of being a nuisance to every card's entertainment value when you are put on it.

So, I tell you one last thing...

Prepare for the execution of your sentencing at Anarchy."

The sound of metal being sharpened by stone, slowly faded into the background of the darkening video package.