Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

JackCain · (05-02-2017)

**Jack Cain is standing in an abandoned warehouse, stripped to the waist with his fists taped. In front of him is a large white linen sack hanging from the ceiling. He repeatedly punches the bag, with uppercuts, roundhouses and fierce strikes. He pauses and looks at the camera, sweat accumulated on his brow**

I dunno Mario, maybe I'm not making myself clear.

**He smashes his fist into the bag again**

This ain't about being great.

**He drives a forearm into the bag, swinging it backwards with the strength of the impact**

This ain't about your rep.

**Another uppercut, followed by a palm strike. A groan comes from the bag, and the slightest movement which is halted by another roundhouse punch. Cain stops the bag and steadies it until it's still.**

This ain't even about winning and losing. This is about opening your eyes. You've been stuck in that sewer so long, you've lost track of what's really important, you've lost that understanding that people like you start out with.

You have the clarity, y'know? You set out on your mission to cleanse the world of whatever shit it is that bugs you - mushrooms, dragons, God knows what's flyin' in and out of that doped up head - and for a while, everything is clear. You know your purpose, the ends justify the means, and you can sleep at night.

But people like you, they always lose sight of that. They get drunk on the power. They start to think that no matter what they do, they aren't accountable.

You don't think you have to pay the tab.

**Cain smiles, then thumps the bag again.**

Everyone has to pay the tab Mario - it's just a matter of when your credit runs out.

You talk about guys trying to take you down and failin'? You say I'm tryna' make a name for myself? You think this is all about you don't ya? It ain't about you, I keep tellin' ya. The world don't revolve around you Mario, you're one tiny l'il cog in a bigger machine, you're nothin'. Insignificant.

I see you makin' lots of threats - anyone comes near you, you leap into action and shout from the rooftops about how great you are, and put that record on again - y'know the one - Goombas, 1985, 31 years, stompin' asses. It's so old people can still find the cassette copy.

You want me to back off? Sorry, I don't do backin' off. You're givin' me warnings? Sorry, I don't really listen to them. It's funny that you won a title belt by blindsidin' a guy and then you brag about it - cowards do that. Never been a fan of cowards.

Cowards always think their ends justify their means, and that brings me back to where we started...

**Gain unties the bag. A man, beaten, bruised, and bleeding falls out in a crumpled heap on the floor. He looks like Mario, only with a purple outfit and an large "W" printed on his cap. Cain picks him up, one handed, by the throat, and lifts him off his feet.**

This guy was tradin' on your name - when I found him actually claimed he was you - but I knew he wasn't. Didn't have the same stink on him.

**Cain drives his fist into the man's face with a knockout blow. The man slumps to the floor.**

Oh don't worry, he'll be ok. More than can be said for you come Wednesday.

All good things come to an end Mario. No matter how much good you think you've done, it's time to pay your debts - and I'm comin' to collect.

**Cain walks away unstrapping his fists as the man lies unconscious on the floor.**

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode All Good Things..
Author	Message