“We came to KEFVGAAIR as rivals. We fought as enemies in this weird secret warehouse that didn’t even have super-piranhas. And, surprising zero people here, I dominated every one of you. Like, it wasn’t even close. I am actually embarrassed for you, your families, and the nations that you caricature—”

“Doc!” Just Plain Usman shouted. “You’re losing the crowd!”

“But enough about that! Now I have a cause to bring us all together. Something so horrific, so evil, so diabolical, that no one can possibly stand for it. These BASTARDS, the motherfucking Brotherhood, are gonna sell cheap action figures of ME all over the WORLD without giving me one thin DIME! And they’re calling it a DOLL!”

Crickets.

Seriously, never has an arena full of thousands of heavily armed criminals and champion gamers ever been so silent.

“And they also do all this illegal gambling and extortion and murder and arms dealing, and if I’m being fair probably some drug dealing on the side…”

Boom!

Mass chaos broke out. Kangaroo Jack pulled out a knife that looked just like Crocodile Dundee’s. Killer Commie Ivan smashed a few vodka bottles to use as shivs. And Mr. Miyagi Min-Zhong assumed the deadly pose of the kicking crane.

“YAYAYAYA!”

From the top of Hannn’s broken throne I flung my amazing body straight into the heart of the melee. With Just Plain Usman covering my back, I cut a bloody swath through Carl the Hunchback’s gang of thousands.

Roundhouse kicks! Jujitsu guillotine chokeholds! Devastating headbutts without ever messing up my hair! And the speed of my blades—oh, the speed of my blades!

I whipped out new knives from every secret sheath on my body. And let me tell you—I have a lot of secret sheaths. They whirled through the air in a cloud of death, slicing throats, gouging eyeballs, never missing their marks.

Hundreds fell before me, but I had eyes for only one foe. The man who had betrayed me. The man who had turned out really to be a hunchback, which was awkward after I made such a scene about it, though I still have my suspicions. The man in charge of the entire Brotherhood.

“CARL THE HUNCHBACK! YOU’RE MINE!”

He sprinted through the arena—really more like a lurching shuffle. Gotta give him credit—if he was faking it, he was totally committed to the bit. And in the midst of all the death and destruction and piles of bloody bodies, he managed to make it to the roof. You knew there had to be a dramatic rooftop climax, didn’t you?

I got there just as he was stepping onto his Apache chopper.

“You could’ve been a glorious commander in the Brotherhood, Doc!” he shouted as they lifted off. “But instead you’ve made a mortal enemy! Until we meet again!”