NO WAS NEVER AN OPTION
Buster Gloves is seen backstage, wearing a black “Wrestling Is For Ever” shirt, and walking down a dimly lit hallway. He nods at the backstage crew as they move an equipment case down past him. He’s looking down at a cell phone in his hands, typing messages, most likely about the outcome of his match earlier in the night. Without even noticing them, he runs into three cloaked men who block the way. They range in size from small, big, and really really big. The smaller man snarls a nasal comment towards Buster.
Little Cloak: You should watch where you’re going. It’s dangerous to be wandering around aimlessly.
Buster is a bit startled and stops in his tracks. He reacts as if he’s interrupted an important interaction between his new co-workers.
Buster Gloves: Oh, yeah. That’s my bad. I’ll… uhhh.. I’ll keep that in mind.
Little Cloak: You should find some people to watch your back.
The comment seems curious to Buster.
Buster Gloves: Nah… I’m good. I think I can handle my own. You guys take it easy. I gotta run.
Buster gives the men a nod of acknowledgement and takes a few steps beyond them, leaving his back exposed. Suddenly Buster is blasted by a steel chair to the back of his head. He hits the floor in a crumpled heap, cell phone sent sliding across the floor. All three cloaked men rain down kicks and punches to the prone Buster. To his stomach, to his ribs, to the back of his head. Buster turtles up, defending himself from the blows, but a big boot catches him right in the face and he goes limp. A fourth man intervenes and peels away the other three men.
The cloaked figure, presumably the leader of the group, stands over The Bull of the North. The henchmen stand sentry behind him, daring not to make a move. The camera zooms in on the shot as he squats down next to Buster’s face, which is dripping blood on the floor. The cloaked man bounces on the balls of his feet and tilts his head quizzically. His voice is deep and bold, but it sounds oddly familiar.
Lead Cloak: Aww, poor, dumb, naïve Buster. ‘No’ was never an option.
The Cloaked Man toys with his prey, flicking him on the cheek before chuckling to himself in amusement.
Lead Cloak: We will be seeing you again, very, very soon. Until then…. Rest up.
The camera zooms out to a shot of the Cloaked Man with the three henchmen behind him. The Lead Cloak snaps his finger and the other three turn their backs to walk away. The Lead Cloak takes a final look at his handiwork before turning and following them. The camera pans back to Buster, who is bloodied and wincing in pain on the concrete floor.