CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
The sound of something hitting metal reverberates throughout the entire backstage area of the arena. A camera crew is sent to track down the source of the noise.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
Moving down a hallway, they check the catering area but it all seems calm, the poor staffers looking around wondering what the hell is going on.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
Turning down another hallway, the crew peeks through open doors but most rooms are empty, the few with people in them are looking around wondering about the noise as well.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
Taking the left hand turn at the end of the hall, the noise is getting louder, in this hall people have half stepped out of their rooms, looking down at the door at the end and wondering who would be brave enough to go check it out.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
The crew presses forward, hesitating a moment at the door that’s cracked open before pushing inside and turning to see none other than Cactus Jack dressed as usual, slamming his head into the already dented door of a large standing locker.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
Cactus stops as he notices he suddenly has company, turning towards the camera with wide and wild eyes.
“Is this a fu…. Is this some kind of joke?! Do you people know who the hell I am?! You know what… obviously you’ve got no damn idea about who I am, otherwise I wouldn’t be wasting my time on people like Matt Sydal. I mean holy sh… Am I being Punked?”
He shakes his head furiously, hands balling up into fists.
“Ok… alright… you want to put me up against Matt, then fine. Matt…Mathew… You, sir, are not only a waste of time but a waste of talent and a waste of space! Do you honestly think that I could give a flying rats ass about what you did as a kid? I can’t even summon up enough interest to pay attention to what you’re doing in the here and now!”
Cactus grits his teeth, throwing his arms up as he looks around, unclear on if he wants to smash something, scream until his lungs burst or both.
“THIS…IS…NOT…A…FIGHT! Mini Matt, you and I are squaring off in that ring and having ourselves a wrestling match. I do not care if it’s a street fight, death match, or barbwire and explosives let alone a regular old standard wrestling match, you will NEVER be on my level. I’m a God Damned LEGEND! I don’t care if they called you a Hardcore Lunchbox or any other damn thing, the simple fact is that I am going to kick your ass, not just because I can, not just because I want to, not just because it’s what they’re paying me for, but because people like you and all of those idiotic fans out there need to be taught a lesson. None of you… NONE…OF…YOU are EVER going to be… me.”
He turns and slams his head into the locker again.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
Looking back at the camera, his forehead is busted open, a sick and twisted grin on his face.
“Bang, bang mother f-“
The feed suddenly cuts before he finishes.
Am I Being Punked?
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