As Jim Caedus Bam Miller finds a seat on the plane flying him away from Bad Medicine, he sighs with relief.

It just took one brick to the face to secure the X-Treme title from the new Universal Champ, Jim Caedus.

Bam leans back in his seat with one of those full-circumference neck pillows around his throat. And he tries to regain his energy with a nap... Something he deserves so profoundly, a well-earned bit of rest.

I mean, even though he didn’t have to work at all for this achievement.

Suddenly, the first class drink cart rolls beside his aisle.

And who is pushing the cart? What diabolical dictator-delighting demon would dance with the devil if it deemed him X-Treme Champion?

Who else but that fuckin’ ASSHOLE? The North Korean War Criminal.

Didn’t he just get walloped with Mark Flynn by APEX? Shouldn’t he lick his wounds and call it quits?

“Not a chance, you dim-witted narrator!”

NKWC gently rests a small napkin on Bam Miller's sleeping chest and places a bag of complimentary animal crackers onto his body, pressing him gently into the back of his seat. He leaves his hand there...

The XWF official in the aisle seat across from Bam silently mouths the count...

1....

2....