“And I’m feelin’…good.”
From the commercial break, we come back to the tone-deaf words being sung by Paxton Ray as we move into space backstage. Where is it? We don’t actually know, but it doesn’t appear to be a locker room. It’s more of a dead end of a hallway, with an office door that is blocked by a shelf full of boxes.
The other sounds we hear are thuds as Paxton Ray punches the boxes. Foster Nackedy sits in an office chair a few feet away.
Foster Nackedy: Man the amenities here are…something.
Paxton Ray: Prob’ly my fault. The boss don’t want me minglin’ with the other talent.
Foster Nackedy: I wonder why.
Paxton looks over at his manager and sneers.
Paxton Ray: Ya didn’t hafta come. I’m sure Quinn Fleetwood is burnin’ the place down without ya there.
Paxton delivers a few more punches.
Paxton Ray: ‘Less, a’course, ya were asked to be here by Troy t’make sure I don’t do anythin’ dumb.
Foster Nackedy: Broken glass is apparently a bitch to clean up.
Paxton doesn’t answer, but he smiles as he continues to punch the boxes.
Foster Nackedy: You don’t seem too upset, though, especially for someone who said he hates this place.
Paxton Ray: You’re right. I’m ecstatic.
He stops punching the boxes and turns to Foster, grinning.
Paxton Ray: Tonight I get t’send somebody inta barbed wire. And yeah, I hate it here. PRIME is full of stupid idiots, but if I can win tonight, I get to face those idiots and fight ‘em anyway I want.
He turns back around and starts to punch the boxes again, but at this point the boxes have taken as much damage as they can, and the parts of the boxes flop onto the floor. Paxton looks down and snarls at the boxes.
Paxton Ray: I need better targets.
Foster Nackedy: You’ll get one in less than an hour.
Paxton Ray: Not soon enough.
With that, Paxton walks past Foster, who twirls quickly in his office chair with the momentum.
Foster Nackedy: Where are you…
He stands up and starts running after Paxton.
Foster Nackedy: Here we go.