DotCom Exclusive: Footage from Reboot 10

[ProtoWolf 2.0]

The Camera's were still rolling well after King had disappeared off screen with Shanahan in chase. The gumballs had done only slight to stop him from moving, and King only had a couple more "home alone" type escapes in him before he felt like his head, possibly his testicles, would be served up as a pitch to Shanahan's baseball bat, the Woman-Beating Louisville Whackamasmack. King headed around the far side of the arena, camera men in tow, as he ran into the backstage area, towards catering.  

[Punkology]

Let the record show that Matt Shanahan has never hit a woman that he didn't have to face during in-ring competition. The gumballs had indeed grounded the massive Hall of Famer, but he was far from giving up on his chase. With the cameraman behind him, The God of Punks continued after The One True Koward with his baseball bat remaining tight in his right hand. No shouts of anger came from Matt this time; his focus was strictly on King as he managed to catch sight of the man in catering.

 

[ProtoWolf 2.0]

King dropped down and, rather slickly, slid under one of the catering tables, quickly finding his footing in an agile way on the other side of the table. He smiled and took a pepperoni stick from the snacks, snapping into it with a chomp, before remembering the massive c**k in persuit. He slid a large side of bird off a metal serving plate and then, like a discus, whirled it through the air at Matt's face.  

[Punkology]

CLAAANG!

Matt's tunnel vision proved to be his downfall, as it typically was. The metal plate cracked against his forehead, causing his feet to fly out from under him and send him back down to the concrete! <********> He roared on impact, a resonating thud echoing through the hall. Even then, Shanahan began to scurry back to his feet; he refused to give up this chase!

 

[ProtoWolf 2.0]

King pumped his fist, since his last attempt at clubbing Shanahan in the head had been a failure. He quietly apologized to some of the workers at his side, before suddenly kicking the table of food over, creating a shitty barrier between him and Shanahan, before bolting once again down towards the lockerrooms, but not actually into the lockerroom.  

[Punkology]

The God of Punks was up to his size 14 boots once again, his face going red from the amount of rage he was managing to channel. He stormed over the table and mess of food without a glance, making his warpath towards the locker room area just as Kelly King had. "Stop running, little b***h!" Shanahan shouted as he began to run in the direction King had disappeared to.

 

[ProtoWolf 2.0]

King bolted past the lockerroom, before he was suddenly stopped by one of the local wrestlers, contacted by WWFG to be a jobber that night.

"Oh my god, you're Kelly King! You're the reason I got into wrestling!"

"Hey that's great I got a thin--" King tried to reply as he looked over his shoulder, worried, but the indy wrestler stopped him.

"Hey man, I need some advice. I've been trying to get a unique finisher and I just don't think I'm doing enough spots."

"Listen man I'm really busy, can I give you my numb--"

"I was thinking of doing a Springboard 720 Somersaulting Plancha Corkscrew Overcastle Figure-Four Moonsault Splash Senton. What do you think?"

"...You're what's wrong with wrestling." King said simply and then grabbed the mans arm and Irish Whipped him right into Matt Shanahan's warpath, not stopping to see what happened to the wrestler as he ran away, to the stairwell.  

[Punkology]

[ProtoWolf 2.0]

"The children are our future," King muttered to himself as he heard the telling sound of a newbie receiving a concussion as he hit the concrete floor, and he started to run up the stairs. He was in a panic. Stairs were, and always would be, his weakness. They weren't simple like ladder rungs, nor were they gradual like hills. Stairs were endless and unforgiving, and King had done everything he could all his life to avoid them when possible. But now the stairs were his salvation. As he clambered, he thought about unzipping his pants and peeing on the raging bull that was surely following him several stories down. But. He'd already used the restroom recently, and so his entire effort was devoted to the bailing, climbing the stairs all the way to the roof.  

[Punkology]

Without missing a step, Shanahan was hot on The King's trail. Two steps at a time, Matt began to practically leap up the metal inclines, even beginning to shorten the distance between himself and his prey. "I gotcha now..." The God of Punks mumbled while quickly following after his target onto the roof...

 

[ProtoWolf 2.0]

King stumbled across the roof and stood there. King looked at his watch and then he looked around the barren top of the arena and, seeing nothing and no escape, as he ran to the edge, said one simple word. "s**t."

He stepped up to the very edge of the roof, looking down, and whistled. "Long way down."  

[Punkology]

A grunt sounded from the staircase as Matt finally made it onto the room, his eyes locking onto King at the edge; he didn't charge, he knew better than to do something like that. The baseball bat spun around in his right hand as he began to pace slowly towards the man that cost him The Rumble. "Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide; nothing to protect you, no savior in sight. You truly are King Nothing, b***h," Matt snarled as he stopped advancing, "So, what's it going to be, Kelly? Gonna jump? Or shall we sign your contract in your own blood?"

 

[ProtoWolf 2.0]

"God damnit, people have been calling me that for years. It's a ******** THEME SONG. Get over it!" King shouted to the sky as he turned around and realized it was Shanahan standing there behind him. He looked at the baseball bat and sucked in a breath. "Oh man I shoulda taken more time at catering." He said as he looked down over his shoulder. "CAREFUL NOW. If I'm dead, who are you gonna wrestle at Mania?"

2.0 tried to stall for time as he looked past Shanahan. "Hey, what's that behind you?"  

[Punkology]

"I'll drag your wife to the ring and pin her, how about that? 3-0, and I'll still have beaten a King." Matt shot back, his nostrils flaring out in anger over King's attempt to get him to turn around. "I'm not falling for that stale s**t; plus, it's a cameraman, you dumb ********>  

[ProtoWolf 2.0]

King snorted and laughed as he winked at Matt Shanahan. "That's the most expensive cameraman I've ever seen." King said as a low rumble in the clouds started to overtake the sound of the cameras and the wind started to whip all around them. King stood his ground as a FREAKING HELICOPTER came whirling around the arena, parallel to the rooftop behind King. 2.0 put his hands in his pockets and looked at Shanahan.

"Sorry to jet. But I'm in a hurry."

He then turned and ungracefully leapt through the air onto the helicopter which wasted no time in backing off from the building so that Shanahan couldn't make a repeat performance. 2.0 stood up in the helicopter and put his hand on the roof as he saluted Matt. Leaving him on the roof in style. "Wonderful joke by the way! I'll tell it to your girl when she's choking on my D tonight!"