LQJT86C
Where's my money, Chad?
(FADEIN: Night time – ALEX AUSTIN and LUCKY SEVEN are loitering outside a subway entrance in DUMBO, Brooklyn. Seven is in a cutoff vintage ‘Belly of the Beast Training Center, Fort Greene, NY est. 2011’ t-shirt, and stockings with flats beneath a short jean skirt. Austin is rocking his usual ATAMA black rashguard, fresh off a training session)
AUSTIN: (clapping enthusiastically) “OOOOOHHHH GOOD FOR YOU ROOKIE POO, GOOD FOR FUCKING YOU! (stops clapping) You found some friends in the Hellfire Club who will tell you what an AWESOME champion you’ve been. Shock of the century.”
“And just like Paul Revere, I saw it coming from a mile away.”
(Pops out a Dentyne Ice, offers it first to Seven who refuses, then chews on it himself)
AUSTIN: (through side of mouth) “Congratulations, dickhead, you just slit your own throat. I was only going to take your title away, but now that you count yourself among the Hellfire walking dead, I’m loading up the proverbial shotgun and putting your name on the NO FLY list. The Guild under my temporary leadership, under the purview of the infallible Castor V. Strife, will not permit any friend or ally of JJ’s to remain on THIS frontier. (points down) It’s just not gonna happen.”
“Rook Black, newly minted member of the Hellfire Club. Same shit-eating happy meal, different toy. The finest collection of overachievers since Cameron Cruise and his merry fucking men.”
“Dorchester Stratton: 13 years in the business and all he’s got to show for it is a best-of-seven series between the #4 and #5 seeds of NFW. You’re a Cleveland sports franchise, Dorch, and you gunning hard at what amounts to a division title doesn’t change the fact that you’re a born loser. That’s why Veronica is on AshleyMadison.com prostituting herself to every one-percenter willing to spring for a designer handbag and Columbia core-credits while you continue down a failed path.”
“Blaine Hollywood: Future perfect. Can I ask you something Blaine? WHAT FUTURE! You came out in fucking what, 2004? You think maybe the boat’s sailed? The future is now, my man, and Castor Strife has the sports almanac. Spoiler alert: you never cross the finish line.”
(Scratches beard)
AUSTIN: “That leaves my personal favorite, JJ Deville. You know Rook, you and JJ have A LOT in common. For starters, you both spent the last two years running from Castor Strife, content with secondary trophies and filling up precious television air time with nonsensical crap. The fact that Eddie continues to employ both of you is more proof why my master and teacher said FUCK THIS and decided to run his own event.”
“Let that be a lesson to you, Bright Young Things of NFW. You’re climbing a ladder that leads directly to the bottom of JJ Deville’s boot-heel.”
“There is a way to overcome, though. You can join with us, and follow the example and the teachings of Castor Strife. Through him and ONLY through him can you make it through the glass ceiling. He broke it, and he is willing to take you with him. But...you’ve got to want it. You’ve got to BELIEVE. Can you? I hope so.”
“For there are those among us who will never be saved. CAN’T be saved. Won’t...be saved. You should know their names and keep your distance, because if you’re not careful, NFW...you might wind up like them.”
(Counts off on fingers)
“Dorechester.”
“Blaine.”
“Rook.”
“JJ.”
(Nods, stares)
AUSTIN: “One day he will return. And with him...the DELUGE, to wash the spiders down the fucking drain.”
(Walks off camera; focus on LUCKY SEVEN)
SEVEN: “Do you know Aesop’s fables, Rook? How about the one where the woodcutter walks into the forest and asks the trees for a wooden handle? Sure enough they gave it to him, and he fitted the handle to his axe and used it to chop them down. Served them right, didn’t it? You should think twice before offering anything to your enemies. Remember this, and have a good day Rook. Have a great day. Take care. Wish you luck.”
(Smiles; CLOSEUP)
“Fortune’s smiling.”
(FADEOUT)
AUSTIN: (clapping enthusiastically) “OOOOOHHHH GOOD FOR YOU ROOKIE POO, GOOD FOR FUCKING YOU! (stops clapping) You found some friends in the Hellfire Club who will tell you what an AWESOME champion you’ve been. Shock of the century.”
“And just like Paul Revere, I saw it coming from a mile away.”
(Pops out a Dentyne Ice, offers it first to Seven who refuses, then chews on it himself)
AUSTIN: (through side of mouth) “Congratulations, dickhead, you just slit your own throat. I was only going to take your title away, but now that you count yourself among the Hellfire walking dead, I’m loading up the proverbial shotgun and putting your name on the NO FLY list. The Guild under my temporary leadership, under the purview of the infallible Castor V. Strife, will not permit any friend or ally of JJ’s to remain on THIS frontier. (points down) It’s just not gonna happen.”
“Rook Black, newly minted member of the Hellfire Club. Same shit-eating happy meal, different toy. The finest collection of overachievers since Cameron Cruise and his merry fucking men.”
“Dorchester Stratton: 13 years in the business and all he’s got to show for it is a best-of-seven series between the #4 and #5 seeds of NFW. You’re a Cleveland sports franchise, Dorch, and you gunning hard at what amounts to a division title doesn’t change the fact that you’re a born loser. That’s why Veronica is on AshleyMadison.com prostituting herself to every one-percenter willing to spring for a designer handbag and Columbia core-credits while you continue down a failed path.”
“Blaine Hollywood: Future perfect. Can I ask you something Blaine? WHAT FUTURE! You came out in fucking what, 2004? You think maybe the boat’s sailed? The future is now, my man, and Castor Strife has the sports almanac. Spoiler alert: you never cross the finish line.”
(Scratches beard)
AUSTIN: “That leaves my personal favorite, JJ Deville. You know Rook, you and JJ have A LOT in common. For starters, you both spent the last two years running from Castor Strife, content with secondary trophies and filling up precious television air time with nonsensical crap. The fact that Eddie continues to employ both of you is more proof why my master and teacher said FUCK THIS and decided to run his own event.”
“Let that be a lesson to you, Bright Young Things of NFW. You’re climbing a ladder that leads directly to the bottom of JJ Deville’s boot-heel.”
“There is a way to overcome, though. You can join with us, and follow the example and the teachings of Castor Strife. Through him and ONLY through him can you make it through the glass ceiling. He broke it, and he is willing to take you with him. But...you’ve got to want it. You’ve got to BELIEVE. Can you? I hope so.”
“For there are those among us who will never be saved. CAN’T be saved. Won’t...be saved. You should know their names and keep your distance, because if you’re not careful, NFW...you might wind up like them.”
(Counts off on fingers)
“Dorechester.”
“Blaine.”
“Rook.”
“JJ.”
(Nods, stares)
AUSTIN: “One day he will return. And with him...the DELUGE, to wash the spiders down the fucking drain.”
(Walks off camera; focus on LUCKY SEVEN)
SEVEN: “Do you know Aesop’s fables, Rook? How about the one where the woodcutter walks into the forest and asks the trees for a wooden handle? Sure enough they gave it to him, and he fitted the handle to his axe and used it to chop them down. Served them right, didn’t it? You should think twice before offering anything to your enemies. Remember this, and have a good day Rook. Have a great day. Take care. Wish you luck.”
(Smiles; CLOSEUP)
“Fortune’s smiling.”
(FADEOUT)