(Butch): Going somewhere are we son?
The barman, momentarily startled tries to regain his composure.
(Barman): You know who's bar this is don't you?
(Butch): Eddie Phoenix's.
(Barman): He's gonna f*** you up, you know that?!
A wider grin stretches across Butch's face.
(Butch): Apparently so...
Butch proceeds to rip the shirt from the man's body, leaving him naked from the waist up, a gasp rising from the man's throat. Butch brings the bat up and rubs the tip of it down the man's temple. He turns to the camera and speaks.
(Butch): Really Eddie, you should have seen this coming. After all, if I'm so predictable and cliché, I guess I'm just keeping up appearances and seeing as you're not going to be replying to this, I guess I'll see you at Havoc.
Butch turns away and proceeds to slam the bat onto the bar, sending shards of broken glass everywhere. The frightened cries of the very few patrons who are currently sitting in the bar echo throughout the room as they run for the exits. Butch rampages through the bar, smashing the bat through the tables, the booths, the television sets before he heads behind the bar itself and shatters all of the bottled spirits lined up along the walls. Butch continues to run amok through Eddie's bar for another five minutes before he stops, chest heaving, sweat decanting from his brow. He throws the bat down on the ground as he walks across the room, broken glass and wood crunching beneath his shoes.
He walks back to the bar, picking up the remnants of the barman's ripped FBP t-shirt and just stares at it for a moment, pokerfaced. Suddenly, in the distance, the faint sound of police sirens can be heard. Another smile appears on Butch's face as he wipes the sweat from his forehead as he tosses the t-shirt aside and proceeds to finish of his pint of cider before casually walking out of the premises. The camera pans back around to view the carnage as the scene fades to black.
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