[Camera opens on a shot of Old Nick Morningstar casually strolling through a beach boardwalk. Enjoying an ice cream cone, he passes multiple games and food vendors.]
“Ah.. it’s the simple pleasures in life. Finding the small things to enjoy..”
[Passing a shooting range, he slows his pace and his eyebrows raise.]
“My, now that looks _fun_..”
[He walks up to the booth and lays a hundred dollar bill on the counter. Picking up the pellet rifle, he takes aim.]
“You know, I take great pleasure in punishing those who truly believe they are my peers, destroying false idols who put on a metaphorical mask just to exist. Mighty Mighty, I think you may fall into this category.”
[He squeezes the trigger letting off a round, a loud ping can be heard as he nails the target.]
“You dance like a clown for the amusement of others. You pretend to be something that you are not. You’ve been so wrapped up for so long in this wicked web that you’ve actually come to believe your own lies.”
[He fires another round, striking the target center mass.]
“But I truly know your heart. I know what you really crave, your honest desires. I know that the only reason you play the role you do is to stoke your own ego. You hunger for acceptance and attention and will seek it out wherever you can, telling the first person who will listen that you’re just all about a good time, that you’re the life of the party.”
[He smirks, then squeezes the trigger once more.]
“But we know the truth, don’t we, Mighty? You’re nothing but a fraud preying on the ones who love you. You feed off them like a vampire, slowly draining their life force. What you may consider _fun_, others consider reckless. You’ve no issue eating the meat right from the bone.”
[With the precision of a surgeon he releases the magazine on the weapon, quickly loading another. He takes aim once again.]
“Look at yourself in the mirror, Mighty. Do you value what you see? Your body getting in the way of itself, making menial tasks monumental. Labored breathing after a flight of steps, yet you’ve the gall to call yourself an athlete. It’s despicable.”
[He fires three rapid shots in a row, each of them hitting the target dead center.]
“But where’s the _fun_ in taking care of yourself? Much better to just lean into an early grave.”
[He scoffs and shakes his head.]
“You’ve clearly _bitten_ off more than you can _chew_ and come Bad Blood, I’m planning to have a little bit of _fun_ myself. Although I’m certain our definitions of _fun_ are polar opposites. Your fate is sealed, Mighty. Because when you speak of the Devil?”
[A faint smirk.]
“He most definitely appears.”
[And with that the camera slowly fades black, the sound of pinging still ringing out in the background.]